Eggsecutive Orders

“Yes, I did,” Mom said in a tone that dared me to object. She placed three bowls of tortilla soup on the table. They steamed with freshness and a hint of spice. I started in on mine and was immediately rewarded with a taste of home. “Do you have a problem with that?”

Nana kicked me under the table. I took another sip of soup and pretended not to hear.

Mom waited. Nana kicked me again.

“Nope,” I lied. “Not at all.”

“Good, because he and I are going out Friday.”

I opened my mouth in protest, but a third swift kick to my shin shut me up. Bending my head, I concentrated again on my soup.

“That’s wonderful, Cori

“I don’t know yet.”

“Mom,” I said, putting my spoon down, “we don’t even know this man. How do you know it’s safe to go out with him? He could be a masher.”

“A masher!” She laughed. “I used to use that line on you when you were a teenager.”

“Mom, I’m serious. You know nothing about him.”

“He was good friends with Carl Minkus,” she said. “A very famous NSA agent.”

“Yeah, and that famous agent is dead.”

She shook her head, but kept smiling. “You sound like an overprotective parent.”

“But you just met him.”

“In fact,” she added mischievously, “I think you’d make a great parent.” She fixed me with a glare. “Exactly when do you plan to give me grandchildren? I’m not getting any younger, you know.”

She always knew what buttons to push to circumvent an argument. I’d only finished about half my soup, but I stood up. “I’m sorry, this is great, but I’ll have it later. I promised to stop by Bucky’s house, and then I have di

Excusing myself, I blew out a breath. My mother knew we were on dangerous ground here. Marriage and babies were not something I cared to discuss. Not now at least. Maybe not ever. I didn’t see myself toting around tots anytime soon. My chosen career was in a male-dominated field and while all the rhetoric claimed that women could have families and maintain careers, too, I knew that in this extremely competitive arena I needed to hold tight to every edge I could wrap my enthusiastic fingers around. I’d been top chef here for a relatively short time. And as soon as the next administration took over, I could be out of a job. Kids were not on my horizon. The topic wasn’t open for discussion, and Mom knew it.

Her bringing it up when I pressed her about this Kap fellow was her attempt to strongarm me into silence. For now, it worked. But I’d figure out a way to talk with her about him. There was something about the guy I just didn’t trust.

I thought about my upcoming visit with Bucky. He and I would have to discuss the situation. If the Easter Egg Roll were to be permanently canceled, the press would have a field day. There would be no way to recover from such a public-relations nightmare. I thought about calling our contact at the American Egg Board, Brandy. Effervescent and eager to help, she was just the sort of person who could get things rolling.

I started to look up her number, but stopped myself. Tom would probably consider that “meddling” in the situation. Anger rumbled up from deep in my throat. I was thwarted, no matter which way I turned.

I dialed Tom’s cell but hit “end” when I heard my house phone ring. Geez! I hadn’t gotten this many phone calls at home in the past year. I picked up the kitchen phone because it was closest. “Hello?”

A woman asked, “Is this… Olivia?” Familiar, but I couldn’t quite place the voice.

“Yes.”

“I… that is… this is Ruth Minkus.”

Fortunately I was right next to a chair. I sat. “Hello,” I said, and because I couldn’t come up with anything better, “How are you?”

She sucked in a breath, but didn’t answer. “My husband’s ‘friend,’ Mr. Kapostoulos”-her emphasis on the word “friend” dripped with sarcasm-“suggested I call you.”

My face must have conveyed my pure shock because both Mom and Nana stopped eating to stare at me. Mom pantomimed, “Who is it?”

“He suggested you call me?” I echoed into the receiver. Then pointing into it, I mouthed back, “Ruth Minkus.”

They exchanged looks of horror and both started mouthing questions at me. I couldn’t follow them and pay attention to Ruth at the same time, so I averted my eyes. I chose to stare at the ceiling, hoping its blankness might aid my concentration. My brain couldn’t absorb the fact that Ruth was calling me. And, based on the stammering on the other end, she didn’t quite believe it either.

“I suppose I mean to apologize for my behavior yesterday.”

I was quick to interrupt. “There’s no reason to-”

“Kap said I offended you.”

“Kap’s wrong,” I said, with more than a touch of vehemence. Movement from my right caused me to look over. My mom made a face and got up to work at the stove. Nana stayed put, watching me. I returned my gaze to the ceiling.

“I was not at all offended. I understand completely. You’re going through a lot of strain right now.”

“I am,” she said in a tiny voice. “It’s been so much pressure. I’ve been working hard to help my son, Joel, in his bid for the senate seat and now this… I don’t think I’m handling it very well.”

I felt for her. She had just lost her husband and was being bullied into making u

“Thank you.”

I was about to make another pleasant, i

“As I said, Mrs. Minkus, there’s no need-”

“Were you pla

“Ah… no, I wasn’t.”

She made a tsking noise. “That’s because of my outburst, isn’t it?”

“No,” I said. “I didn’t-” I was about to say that I’d never had any intention of attending her husband’s wake, but realized how rude that might sound. Softening my response, I tried a different approach. “I know this has to be a very stressful time and I wouldn’t want to compound that tension. I’m sure my presence at the wake would be distracting.”

“Distracting? How?”

“Because…” I groped for a quick explanation. “My staff is still ba

“Oh, I didn’t know that,” she said. “I confess I’ve been trying to avoid reading the papers. It’s just too much, you know?”

I did know. “I want to express my sympathy again, Mrs. Minkus.”

“I would appreciate it if you would reconsider.”

“Reconsider?”

“It would mean a lot to me if you would come tomorrow night,” she said. “I feel just terrible about my behavior yesterday. In fact, I feel terrible about everything these days. I can’t go around burning bridges just because my life has fallen apart.”

I heard her voice crack. I didn’t know what to say, but she continued. “I mean, I have to think about Joel. He needs me to be strong right now. And I made him ashamed yesterday. Would you please come to the wake? Even if the rest of your staff can’t make it, it would go a long way to proving to Joel that I didn’t mess things up.” She sighed deeply. “I may not always agree with Kap, but this time I think he’s right. Please come, Olivia.” Her next breath seemed to shake, and I sensed she was close to tears. “I’d better go now.” With that she hung up.

I stared at the receiver for a long time. What in the world had that been about? Kap had forced her hand, no doubt about it. But to what end? And why would Joel care whether his mother offended the executive White House chef? I was about to tell Mom about this bizarre conversation, but realized she had left the room.

Nana pointed to the guest bedroom, where I found my mom at the computer. “That was Ruth Minkus,” I said.