visitor.”
“We shall work side-by-side,
mon ami
.”
I smiled to myself, remembering my early morning optimism. Today was shaping up to be a very good day, indeed.
While Bucky took over the kitchen, Kilian and I decided to work with Marcel to sketch out yet another updated schedule for the rest of the week. We made our way to the library, where things were a little more quiet.
“You say these rooms are open for tours?” Kilian asked when we first entered. He ran a hand along the bookshelves and wandered the room’s perimeter.
“Most of the time, yes,” I said, “as are the state rooms upstairs. During this sequester, however, nonessential government services have been scaled back. Unfortunately, allowing visitors to tour the White House is one of those nonessentials.”
I took a moment to try to see the library as Kilian might be viewing it. I’d been working here for years now, and although I always appreciated the beauty around me, I’d probably begun to take the opulence in the White House for granted.
“And
anyone
can come in here?”
“Well,” I said, “there are rules. Tour participants have to arrange for their visits ahead of time. They need to submit information about themselves so that they can be vetted by security. And there are a whole bunch of personal items that aren’t allowed inside the building.”
Kilian nodded absentmindedly as though restrictions didn’t surprise him. “Do very many people come through the doors?” he asked. “When there is no sequester, I mean?”
Marcel guffawed. “Hundreds,” he said. “Thousands.”
“Every year?” Kilian asked.
“Every day the house is open,” I said.
Kilian stood near the center of the room. His expression was a mixture of disbelief and satisfaction. “I am overwhelmed.”
I took a seat in one of the chairs and gestured for the two men to do the same. “Time to get started.”
“We will explore the White House chocolate shop today,” Marcel said with unrestrained glee. “I believe you will find what we do there truly amazing.”
Kilian clapped his chubby hands together. “Excellent.”
“Marcel, why don’t you take our guests to the chocolate shop around two o’clock? Would that work for you?”
“Absolument.”
The three of us decided on a few other plans for the rest of the week, including having Marcel accompany the group to the florist shop. Another day, Bucky would take the visitors to the calligraphers’ office in the East Wing to observe how thematic elements were carried through from invitations to dinner.
I planned to take the Saardiscans into our storage area to show them the china collections we had at our disposal. The butlers and waitstaff had also agreed to share their knowledge with our visitors.
Marcel, Kilian, and I finished up and returned to the kitchen to find Bucky and the other men huddled over the center countertop, leaning forward, elbows perched on the stainless steel, studying a flurry of paperwork before them.
“And right there,” Bucky was saying, “is our seating chart from when the queen of England last visited the White House.”
Hector looked up and smiled at me as we entered. “We have never seen so much preparation,” he said to Kilian. “We are learning very, very quickly.”
Tibor’s head wagged back and forth. Not as though he didn’t understand, but as though he didn’t approve. “I do not believe any of this.” He shoved at the papers—not hard enough to send them flying—but enough to punctuate his words. “I believe that you have fabricated much to convince us that you are superior. But Saardisca is not unworthy or less capable.”
“No one is saying anything about your country.” Bucky looked to me for support.
“The fact that we do things differently doesn’t make us better,” I said as I made my way over to the group. “We happen to have had a great many guests here over the years. We’ve organized so many dinners that we’ve learned what
“We shall work side-by-side,
mon ami
.”
I smiled to myself, remembering my early morning optimism. Today was shaping up to be a very good day, indeed.
While Bucky took over the kitchen, Kilian and I decided to work with Marcel to sketch out yet another updated schedule for the rest of the week. We made our way to the library, where things were a little more quiet.
“You say these rooms are open for tours?” Kilian asked when we first entered. He ran a hand along the bookshelves and wandered the room’s perimeter.
“Most of the time, yes,” I said, “as are the state rooms upstairs. During this sequester, however, nonessential government services have been scaled back. Unfortunately, allowing visitors to tour the White House is one of those nonessentials.”
I took a moment to try to see the library as Kilian might be viewing it. I’d been working here for years now, and although I always appreciated the beauty around me, I’d probably begun to take the opulence in the White House for granted.
“And
anyone
can come in here?”
“Well,” I said, “there are rules. Tour participants have to arrange for their visits ahead of time. They need to submit information about themselves so that they can be vetted by security. And there are a whole bunch of personal items that aren’t allowed inside the building.”
Kilian nodded absentmindedly as though restrictions didn’t surprise him. “Do very many people come through the doors?” he asked. “When there is no sequester, I mean?”
Marcel guffawed. “Hundreds,” he said. “Thousands.”
“Every year?” Kilian asked.
“Every day the house is open,” I said.
Kilian stood near the center of the room. His expression was a mixture of disbelief and satisfaction. “I am overwhelmed.”
I took a seat in one of the chairs and gestured for the two men to do the same. “Time to get started.”
“We will explore the White House chocolate shop today,” Marcel said with unrestrained glee. “I believe you will find what we do there truly amazing.”
Kilian clapped his chubby hands together. “Excellent.”
“Marcel, why don’t you take our guests to the chocolate shop around two o’clock? Would that work for you?”
“Absolument.”
The three of us decided on a few other plans for the rest of the week, including having Marcel accompany the group to the florist shop. Another day, Bucky would take the visitors to the calligraphers’ office in the East Wing to observe how thematic elements were carried through from invitations to dinner.
I planned to take the Saardiscans into our storage area to show them the china collections we had at our disposal. The butlers and waitstaff had also agreed to share their knowledge with our visitors.
Marcel, Kilian, and I finished up and returned to the kitchen to find Bucky and the other men huddled over the center countertop, leaning forward, elbows perched on the stainless steel, studying a flurry of paperwork before them.
“And right there,” Bucky was saying, “is our seating chart from when the queen of England last visited the White House.”
Hector looked up and smiled at me as we entered. “We have never seen so much preparation,” he said to Kilian. “We are learning very, very quickly.”
Tibor’s head wagged back and forth. Not as though he didn’t understand, but as though he didn’t approve. “I do not believe any of this.” He shoved at the papers—not hard enough to send them flying—but enough to punctuate his words. “I believe that you have fabricated much to convince us that you are superior. But Saardisca is not unworthy or less capable.”
“No one is saying anything about your country.” Bucky looked to me for support.
“The fact that we do things differently doesn’t make us better,” I said as I made my way over to the group. “We happen to have had a great many guests here over the years. We’ve organized so many dinners that we’ve learned what
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