Free Foreign Éclairs by Julie Hyzy

step from the main level, tucked into the front window. Not only did it provide a wonderful street panorama, allowing us to people watch as we dined, its solitary setting made it the perfect spot for private conversation.
    “We would love that, Jason,” I said. “If that’s at all possible . . .”
    “I will make sure your favorite table is ready when you are. What time will you be joining us?”
    In my haste to call, I’d neglected to nail down the details. I turned to Gav. “I have another interview scheduled late in the day tomorrow. But I could be out by six-thirty.”
    “Let’s make it for seven then,” he said.
    Into the phone, I said, “Would seven o’clock work, Jason?”
    “You’re in the book as of right now. I can’t wait to see you both.”
    “Same here. We’ve missed Suzette’s.”
    “Music to my ears,” Jason said. “See you tomorrow.”
    I hung up and turned to Gav. “How about tomorrow night we pretend we’re a normal couple on a normal date? No worries about murderers or purse-snatchers. What do you say?”
    Gav stood and wrapped an arm around my waist. He smiled, but his eyes weren’t in it. “I wish we could.”

CHAPTER 9

    “You’re in a cheery mood,” Bucky said late Wednesday afternoon as we prepared the First Family’s dinner entrée: pork chops with apple, walnut, and Gorgonzola salsa. With as much assembled ahead of time as possible, we were waiting until just before serving time to cook the chops.
    “I am,” I said. “Everything went right today. Perfectly right. Do you know how seldom that happens? No timing issues. No missing ingredients. I’ve got a date with my handsome husband a few hours from now, and I plan to enjoy every minute.”
    “That man is good for you,” Bucky said. “I’ve never seen you as happy as you’ve been since the two of you got together.”
    “I never expected this sort of completeness in my life. Sounds pretty sappy, doesn’t it?”
    “Not at all. You deserve this. You both do.”
    “You know . . .” I tapped a finger against my lips. “I’m feeling so lighthearted I could practically burst into song.”
    “What are you? Alto? Soprano? Are you consideringhiring that chef to harmonize?” Bucky asked as laughter grabbed hold of him. “Dinner and a show in the White House kitchen every night. I love it!”
    “I’m feeling a little guilty about rejecting that woman,” I said. “Well, I haven’t actually turned her down yet, but I intend to.” Glancing around the quiet space, I asked, “How bad could it be?”
    “She hasn’t been able to hold onto a position for longer than six months, remember,” he said, still grinning. “Wanna bet she doesn’t limit herself to low-level humming?”
    “You’re probably right; poor thing. If she wants a career in a high-pressure environment she’d have to learn to control that habit.”
    Bucky looked up at the clock. “Speaking of interviews, you have another one coming up in about a half hour. Let’s hope the third time is the charm.”
    “That’s exactly—”
    The kitchen phone rang. As I reached for the receiver, I groaned. “It’s Sargeant. Let’s hope candidate number three hasn’t canceled.”
    “Olivia,” Sargeant said when I answered, “would it be possible for you to come to my office a little early?”
    “Has the candidate arrived already?”
    “No. I have another matter to discuss with you before the interview begins.” He didn’t provide any further information but the tone of his voice led me to believe this “other matter” had nothing to do with hiring a new chef.
    “I’ll be up there shortly.”
    “Very good,” he said.
    “What’s up now?” Bucky asked when I replaced the receiver.
    “No idea.” I rubbed my forehead. “I suppose I’ll find out soon enough, though. Will you be okay handling the rest of dinner on your own?”
    “Piece of cake.”
    “Thanks.” Pulling off my apron and checking my smock, as I had so many times this