Free All the President’s Menus by Julie Hyzy

stable,” he said, but something in the way he hesitated made me wonder.
    “But you’re staying out there tonight?”
    Again the hesitation. “I am. That okay with you?”
    “Of course. You need to be with them right now.”
    “It seems I do.”
    “There’s something you’re not telling me.”
    He expelled a quick breath. “Nothing that can’t wait. I’ll be home as soon as I can. You know I love you, right?”
    “Yeah, I do. And I love you back.”
    As much as I wanted to bring him up to speed about Cyan and Marcel, and get his read on both matters, I could tell from the sound of his voice that he needed rest. And probably a clearer mind than he had at the moment.
    “I’ll see you tomorrow, Ollie. I promise.”
    “I’ll hold you to it. Take care of yourself, okay?”
    I could almost see him smile. “You, too.”
    *   *   *
    “Ms. Paras? Mr. Reed?”
    Bucky and I glanced up—as did our four guests—to see our chief usher and his assistant in the doorway.
    We’d been in the middle of learning how to put together a Saardiscan dish involving cabbage, ground chicken, and rice. I wiped my hands on my apron and made my way over to him. “Peter, Margaret,” I began, “I’m surprised to see you down here.”
    Margaret nodded acknowledgment, but remained mum.
    Keeping his hands folded in front of his waist—a Peter Everett Sargeant move if there ever was one—he raced his gaze over everyone in the room. It took only a second or two, but he settled on Kilian. Lifting the edges of his lips in what should have been a smile, he continued, “Good morning, everyone. I trust you are enjoying your experience here in our kitchen?”
    All four men nodded, but didn’t reply.
    “Ms. Paras and Mr. Reed approached me about the difficulties we’re facing here with Marcel’s absence.” Again, the non-smile. “It is unfortunate that due to circumstances beyond my control, and despite multiple impassioned requests, I am unable to reinstate Marcel’s assistant, even temporarily.”
    “Peter,” I said, “isn’t this a topic we ought to discuss in your office?”
    Or
anywhere
more private than this? Such an announcement should not be made to the visitors without informing staff first.
    His eyes flashed at the interruption. “What you are unaware of, Ms. Paras, is that your colleague here, Kilian”—he rolled his hand toward the Saardiscan chef—“is a man of many talents.”
    “Don’t you think we should—”
    Sargeant talked right over me. “Not only is he considered the top chef in his country”—at this, Tibor made a disagreeable noise, then tried to cover it with a cough—“he is an undisputed master with regard to pastries and desserts.”
    “That’s good to know—” I worked to get a word in edgewise.
    Sargeant nodded to Margaret. “We can thank my assistant for her diligence in discovering this information.”
    Margaret beamed at Sargeant, then cast her eyes around the room expectantly, her smile fading ever so slightly at the lack of reaction. Did she assume we’d all burst into applause?
    Hector and Nate stared at us with uneasy expressions. Tibor shifted his weight, sending hard glances at Kilian, whose red cheeks grew ever brighter.
    Sargeant turned to me. “We’re very fortunate to have Kilian with us, aren’t we, Ms. Paras?”
    In a wordless demand to know where this was going, I glared at Sargeant. “Yes, very.”
    Facing the group, he continued, “Of course, our fervent hope is that Marcel rejoins the kitchen soon, but until he is given the all-clear, we’re hoping that you, Kilian, will take over the pastry kitchen in his stead.”
    Whether these men knew what “in his stead” meant or not, didn’t matter. I did. Unable to stop myself, I gasped. “Peter.”
    He turned to me again, speaking quietly through clenched teeth. “I know what I’m doing.”
    I pulled my lips in tightly. I really would have preferred to shout.
    “A word, Peter?” I asked.
    He ignored me,