by Gini Koch
“Who are you and what have you done to Pheebs and Ev?”
They both grinned. “We’ve learned that if you can’t beat ’em,” Evalyne said, “then you join ’em. Now, let’s go sell some baked goods and get out of here.”
We found the bake sale set up near to the upper school buildings, closer to the Wisconsin Avenue side. We were on and near lots of grass, a couple of concrete paths, and a circular driveway. Tables were set up and laden with foodstuffs. There were men and women both manning sections, and everyone had cashboxes as well as swipes on their cell phones. We looked like a small county fair. So far, so very prepped. Maybe this wouldn’t be bad after all.
Adam and the Kristie-Bot were here now with several Field teams. Press was additionally represented as promised, with Oliver, Jennings, and Dion all there, and Oliver and Dion both had cameras. Oliver was alone, presumably because the Good Day USA! team was already set up and filming.
Well, alone if you didn’t count the African grey parrot on his shoulder. Good old Bellie—my avian nemesis and true competition for Jeff’s love—was here. My luck cup was running over. She looked at me, I looked at her, and we both looked away. Yeah, she hated me, too.
Last but not least, my personal section of the K-9 squad was in attendance as promised. Gave Prince, Duke, and Riley pets, which earned me several horrified looks from the parent helpers, presumably because they didn’t want me to contaminate the food. Received a wipe from Mrs. Maurer, cleaned my paws in a very obvious manner, tossed the wipe into a garbage can, saw the parent helpers relax. So far, so very good.
Met everyone helping. Stopped trying to remember who was who by the second person because this was the biggest bake sale I’d ever seen and there were at least thirty parents here if there were two. Instead, thanked them profusely for their help. Everyone seemed happy to be there, though I saw many of their eyes dart toward Charmaine, who was hovering in the background. Clearly Vance hadn’t exaggerated this woman’s power in any way.
Marcia Kramer was here, too, looking stressed out of her mind. Decided to go all in on the Washington Wife Experience and gave her a hug. Noted that this was noted by everyone. “Why are you here?” I asked her quietly. “Don’t you have to prep for the party tonight?”
“I do, but I wanted to support you in this.” She gave me a weak smile. “Friends need to stick together.”
“True enough.” Friends? Vance had possibly not overstated how grateful Marcia was that I’d confirmed our attendance at tonight’s fundraiser. Meaning she’d hate me forever if I didn’t show, not that I planned to miss it. Not with Dr. Rattoppare on the guest list.
Charmaine came over once I was done meeting everyone. “Now, the bake sale will run all day or until we’re out of food.”
“That’s great, but I have an engagement, so I won’t be able to stay here all day.” She was getting me until noon. After that, I was heading to the Intergalactic School and the Evil Kangaroo would just have to sniff at herself.
Charmaine drew in breath for a mighty sniff, but she didn’t get to release it because Abigail interjected. “That’s why we’re here,” she indicated herself and Mahin. “We’re the Cultural Attachés for the American Centaurion Diplomatic Mission and we’ll take over when the First Lady has to go on to her next appointment of state.”
Charmaine released the sniff slowly. “It’s highly irregular.”
“So is making the First Lady run a bake sale on the first day of school,” Abigail replied. “And yet, we’re managing.” With that she took my arm, turned us around and headed us over to the American Centaurion Food Fest section.
“What are you getting?” I asked her softly.
“She’s a supercilious bitch, that’s what I’m getting. So I’ll give that right back to her. I think it’s the only thing she respects.”
Mahin looked around. “I’m confused. Who will be buying the baked goods?”
“Kids at the school, teachers, administrators. I assume, at least.” Had no idea, really. Vance and Mrs. Maurer were in conversation with the women who’d been behind Charmaine when we’d arrived, and they were too intent and too far away to bother.
“So, we’re raising funds by selling things to the people who already pay to go here and to those who earn their livings here?”
“Um, yes?”
She shook her head. “That seems so . . . circular and insulated.”
“Well, it’s not like you want strangers wandering onto the campus of an extremely private school,” I pointed out.
Abigail jerked. “Or, you do.” She nodded toward the circular drive where a couple of tour busses were pulling in. A city bus stopped in front of us and let out a lot of people, most of whom headed for us. Cars pulled into the circular drive and dropped people off.
Mahin nudged me. “They’re coming in from other directions.”
Sure enough, people who were not schoolchildren and didn’t look like teachers or administrators were heading for us. Vance saw this, broke off, and came over. “The good news is, this is standard. They advise everyone they know and advertise the bake sale. The bad news is that they’ve been advertising that everyone can meet the First Lady and buy something baked by her and her children.”
“Oh my God.” Did it get worse than this? Refused to ask aloud, since the chances were that it could and would.
“Game faces, people,” Charmaine barked. Everyone jerked to attention, my people included. “Let’s get that money and give these people something to remember!”
The first people came over to our tables, from one of the busses. A tour group that was up from Florida and had added on the bake sale as a stop. Most of them were retired, all of them were nice. Shook a lot of paws, but we sold a lot of food, too. Good Day USA! used this as their first major interview opportunity, and everyone was pleasant and, per Adam, we got good footage.
Was far too busy to take a lot of stock of the situation, but on the rare occasions I got to look around things were going amazingly well. We were even more like a little county fair or farmers market now that we had a ton of people. Our security teams and the K-9 officers and dogs were patrolling, so no one was able to sneak onto the campus to perpetrate evil, and no one seemed to be trying to create issues. Our media representatives were entertaining themselves by interviewing a ton of people who seemed more than happy to be on camera. Even Bellie was behaving herself. Thanked the various Powers That Be and went back to work.
Within the first hour I’d relaxed and started to enjoy this. Sure, it had been sprung upon me in a ridiculous way, but maybe that was how Charmaine got everyone into the swing of things. After all, we had a ton of help, money was flowing in, baked goods were flowing out, people were leaving happy, and this was probably going to be my best media outing ever. I had a long line of those who wanted to meet me, but I remained behind my table—if you wanted to meet the FLOTUS, then you bought a cookie, that was my current motto.
Not everyone wanted to meet me, which was more than fine. Some people hung around, but most didn’t. They got their delicious baked goods, saw the FLOTUS or didn’t bother, gave an interview or didn’t, and headed off.
School had started at eight-thirty and the bake sale at nine. By ten we’d run out of a few things, so tables were consolidated, but that went smoothly and we still had plenty. Running like clockwork. The first tour busses were long gone and new ones were in.
Eleven rolled around quickly. There had been no time to be bored, which was nice. I’d have preferred to have been doing all of this in a t-shirt, jeans, and my Converse, but I was in my Casual FLOTUS Warmer Weather Uniform of a sleeveless dress that was iced blue with black blocking along the sides and low-heeled black pumps.
As with the dress I’d been in the day before, Akiko had ensured this one was from her First Lady Activewear Collection, though I felt its color pattern did more to enhance my curves than yesterday�
�s dress. That was me, paying attention to the superficial things so many seemed to care about so much. My feet kind of hurt, but otherwise I was comfortable and this was going better than I could have imagined in my wildest dreams.
More table consolidation and the upper school kids came out to get goodies as a tour bus left and two more took its place. Lizzie and Wasim were still together, which was good. They were also with kids I recognized—Anthony, Claire, and Sidney Valentino. The five of them didn’t look adversarial, so that was one for the win column.
They wandered the tables, presumably to not look like they needed to race over to us like babies. Which was fine, because the other kids seemed to be doing the same thing. Every table was busy but, based on adult reactions, no one’s kids had headed to them first. Figured this was both normal teenaged behavior and would be in stark contrast to when the littler kids arrived. At least, I hoped so.
Tried to spot which one was Marcia’s stepson and which belonged to Charmaine, but couldn’t do it. Considering Charmaine’s were supposed to be twins and in Lizzie’s class, I should have been able to pick them out, but I didn’t see any obvious candidates.
The kids were on a bake sale break. Per what Vance and Mrs. Maurer had gleaned, the high school kids got first dibs. The middle school would get their chance at noon, and then the lower school kids would get their turn. This was to prevent the littlest ones from making themselves sick and so that the older kids could help with the next level of consolidation. Per those whom my team had spoken to, the schedule worked.
A whistle blew, three quick bursts, and the teenagers began wandering over to what I assumed were their family members. I figured the kid who looked nothing like Marcia but who was helping her and seemed comfortable with her was her stepson. Still couldn’t spot Charmaine’s twins. Or Charmaine. Figured things were going well and she was either off somewhere sulking or congratulating herself. Worked for me.
The tour busses had been served and were driving off and the kids were starting their assigned “move these things to that table and put this other table away” duties when Lizzie, Wasim, and the Valentino kids finally graced us with their presences. Wasn’t sure if they were just being slow or hadn’t realized what the three-whistle signal indicated. Actively chose to believe they hadn’t been clear.
“Well,” Lizzie said as they joined us, “this all just stinks.”
CHAPTER 44
STEELED MYSELF FOR whatever was coming. “What happened?”
“We still have a lot left,” Lizzie replied, sounding disappointed. “I thought ours would sell out first.”
Managed not to share that she’d practically given me a heart attack. She was a teenaged girl and, for the first time since I’d known her, truly in a teenaged environment. And, therefore, she was acting like a teenager—overly dramatic. Go figure. Had a feeling Mom was suddenly snickering for no reason, karma being a bitch and all that.
“It’s alright,” Wasim said reassuringly. “For what we brought over, I believe more than half is gone.”
“Most of ours are gone,” Sidney said rather smugly. At seventeen he was the eldest of “our” kids. “We brought Grandmother Lucinda’s brownies.”
Now I managed not to share that I hadn’t realized they’d brought Lucinda’s brownies. We had six tables assigned to us, so my missing something was understandable. But still, I could have used a snack. If I grabbed a brownie now, it would be too obvious. And I’d probably have to pay extra for it, too.
“We helped her make them, Aunt Kitty,” Claire, the sixteen-year-old, said quickly, possibly interpreting my silence for disapproval. “We didn’t break the rules.”
“And we had the younger cousins help, too,” Anthony said. “So everyone was involved.” He was Lizzie’s age, fifteen, and so in her class here.
“I’m sure you guys were as obedient to the rules as we were, and I’m frankly amazed that any of Lucinda’s brownies were left after the first five minutes of the sale.” I was. They were the best brownies in, at minimum, two solar systems. And now these kids had the recipe. And I didn’t. Actively had to choose not to be bitter.
“Yeah, me too,” Anthony said as he shot a little glance toward Lizzie. “Though I think it would have been cool to have gotten to bake with P-Chef.”
“It was,” Lizzie replied. “You guys will have to come over and hang out. Chef and P-Chef are totes cool with it.” She sounded sincere. Hoped this meant that things were going well. They’d only been together a few hours, after all, and presumably at least some of that had been spent learning.
“That would be great!” Anthony sounded as if his career goal was to win Master Chef. Didn’t buy it. Claire didn’t either, if I took her rolling her eyes and wandering over to Abigail to be a clue, which I did. Apparently a few hours was all it took for some. Then again, Lizzie was a pretty awesome girl.
Wasim gave Anthony a look I’d seen a lot when I was younger. I’d never registered it for what it was, but I’d sure seen it. Took all of my self-control to not take a picture and send it to Chuckie, but I refrained. “As Lizzie said, it was very cool. It’s an honor to have gotten to work with Queen Katharine’s chefs.”
“Our grandmother is a great cook and baker,” Anthony said, returning fire.
“She is,” Sidney said, as if his word on the subject was final. “Liz, which ones did you make? I want to be sure we buy yours.”
This earned Sidney the same look from Wasim that Anthony had received and a matching one from Anthony himself. Sidney merely gave them both the smug smile of an older boy who’s confident that he’s got the edge in terms of a younger girl’s interest.
Lizzie, however, seemed utterly oblivious to all of this, even though only the day before we’d been discussing that Raheem had sent Wasim out to make a love connection with her. Then again, at her age, I’d been oblivious to a lot of this, too, even with clear hints. Frankly, I’d been oblivious to a lot of this when I was already a great big grown-up girl with even clearer hints. Some of us focused on different things.
Lizzie didn’t react either positively or negatively to Sidney’s shortening of her nickname, she just cheerfully pointed out which treats she’d made that she was most proud of while Sidney and Anthony started to stack their individual purchases of far more baked goods than either one of them was likely to eat in a year.
Wasim, meanwhile, seemed forgotten and more than a little frustrated and forlorn. Yeah, I’d missed this look a lot growing up, but others confirmed that it had been present. I had no idea if any of these boys were good enough to date Lizzie, or if she had any interest in any of them beyond being friends. However, I liked Wasim and he deserved a fighting chance.
Pulled my purse out from under the table where I’d stored it and looked inside. Had a ton of Poofs On Board. Not an issue. Also not what I needed at this precise time. “Some special treat only available in the Middle East and definitely not for sale here that Lizzie will really enjoy, please and thank you,” I whispered to my purse. Reached in and came out with a neatly wrapped napkin containing a pastry that looked like a small, weird Twinkie. But it didn’t smell or feel like a Twinkie. It smelled amazing and felt like a kind of cookie.
Nudged Wasim and handed it to him. “Just found this,” I said quietly. “I think P-Chef sent it along specially for you.”
He brightened up as he saw it. “Lizzie, try this!”
She turned and took the offered treat. “What is it?”
“Ma’amoul. It’s a specialty from my part of the world.”
She took a nibble, then a bigger bite. “That’s totes delish. What is it and what’s in it?”
Wasim was suddenly standing tall. “My grandmother says it’s a kind of shortbread cookie and they come with different fillings.”
“This tastes like the filling is fig. It’s awesome.”
“The fig-filled ones are my favorites,” Wasim s
aid, sounding happy and relieved. “I’m pleased you enjoy them, too.”
Lizzie finished the ma’amoul. “That was great. What was inside yours?”
“I gave the only one we had to you. I hoped you’d like it like . . . I do.”
Lizzie stared at him for a moment, then she blushed, just a little, and smiled. “You’re the best, Wasim, thank you. But that means we totes need to get P-Chef to make more of those. Do you have the recipe?”
“I do,” Wasim said confidently. I doubted he did, but was quite certain that Algar had used the recipe Wasim had grown up eating and that Raheem’s family had made for generations, meaning we could get the recipe without issue or delay.
“Good plan,” I said before Wasim could add that P-Chef had made this. Lizzie would follow that up and it would be a lot easier if she didn’t. “While I’d love to let you guys eat everything, why don’t you figure out what we need you to do to help? I’m pretty sure Mahin has that knowledge.”
Congratulated myself on my for once deft handling of a teenaged romantic situation as Mahin shared what we’d sold and told the kids what to do to help her and Abigail rearrange our stuff for the next waves. Was about to ask what I should be doing when I finally spotted Charmaine.
She was near the circular drive, surrounded by a group of people I hadn’t seen before. They all looked like they were parents, though some of them could have been staff and faculty. I could barely remember who I’d met already, of course, so I might have met all of them already. But I didn’t think so.
Wondered if these were parents who were coming in for the next shift. But looking around at the expressions of those parental helpers who were also looking Charmaine’s way gave the impression that these others weren’t around to help out.
And apparently I wasn’t either, because it was once again time for me to give Good Day USA! some of my uninterrupted attention. At least if I took the Kristie-Bot’s waving at me to get my attention to be a clue, and since she and Adam were heading toward me in a determined manner, with their crew in tow, I did.