Eggsecutive Orders

She turned toward me, arranging her body to block the screen from my view. “What did she want?”

“To invite me to her husband’s wake.”

Mom twisted, quickly minimized the window, and then returned her attention to me. I’d seen a tiny bit of the page she’d been viewing. “Were you reading the Liss Is More column again?” I asked.

Nervous laugh as she stood. “Why would I read that trash?”

“Then what were you reading?” I felt like a parent who just caught her teenager visiting inappropriate sites.

“Just silly stuff,” she said, trying to guide me out the door. “Nothing worth mentioning. Let’s go see what Nana’s up to.”

“Mom-”

Her shoulders dropped. “I wasn’t reading that crazy man, Liss,” she said. “But I found out that his articles are reprinted on the Internet and people can write in and make comments on what he wrote.”

“And?”

“There are some very odd people in the world,” she said. “I mean, I thought Liss was out of his mind, but people go off on the strangest tangents and say very mean, very cruel things.”

“Let me see,” I said, moving toward the computer.

She blocked me.

I laughed. “Mom, you can’t keep me from reading what’s out there.”

She suddenly looked so sad, my heart hurt.

“Did someone mention me?” I asked.

“Not exactly.” She bit her lip. “It’s just that people were asking about the Easter Egg Roll, and I knew how worried you were about that. I didn’t want you to see all the questions.”

“That’s not all you didn’t want me to see, is it?”

“Some people don’t know what they’re talking about.”

I made it around her and maximized the browser window again. I sensed her resignation both from her deep sigh, and from the hand she placed on my shoulder as I scrolled through the comments.

There were, indeed, a lot of strange people in the world. I wondered if these were the same folks who, for kicks, sent out indecipherable spam in their spare time. I started at the top-the most recent commentary-and worked my way through several screeds that had more to do with battling the writers’ own demons than Carl Minkus’s death. Seemed to me that the earliest posts stayed on topic and the more recent ones were lame attempts to discredit earlier posters.

“What about the Easter Egg Roll?” asked Theda R. from Virginia. “My kids have been looking forward to this all year! Can’t someone just boil a few eggs so the kids won’t be disappointed?”

From Sal J.: “What do we care if another bureaucrat is dead? He got what he deserved, if you ask me. Minkus was screwed up and whoever took him out deserves a medal.”

Yikes.

“These people have too much time on their hands,” I said, continuing to scroll. I stopped when I saw the next one. Blood rushed out to all my extremities, rendering me light-headed.

“That girl the president hired to cook for him-that Ollivia Parras-she’s nothing but trouble since she took over the job. She can’t cook worth a nikcl and she can always try seeing how she can get in the headlines. It’s all her fault your poor kids don’t get to roll their eggs this year. I say the president should fire her butt and fast!”

No matter that the writer of this little diatribe-R. I.-spelled so many things wrong, including my name. No matter that he, or she, was grammatically challenged. The message was clear.

“I can so cook,” I said u

“You see, this is all garbage,” Mom said. “I shouldn’t even have been reading it.”

I wanted to shake it off, but my eyes were sca

“Cheery stuff,” I said, trying to swallow a hot bubble of disappointment.

“They don’t know what they’re talking about.”

She was probably right, but the attacks were brutal. And they hurt.

I’d been on enough Internet pages like this to know that at the bottom there should be a form available to add your own commentary. But this time, no little box appeared. Instead, in red italics were the words: Please allow several minutes for your comment to post.

I spun. “You didn’t.”

Mom blushed, waving a hand at the screen. “I couldn’t let them talk about you like that and not do anything.”

I dropped my head into my hands, took a deep breath, and hit “refresh.”

CHAPTER 12

OF COURSE THE PAGE TOOK FOREVER TO LOAD. Of course. Sometimes my co

While I waited for the Liss commentary to blink back into existence, I chanced a look at my mom. “Just tell me you didn’t mention me by name.”

She opened her mouth but no words came out.

Just as the website popped up to tell me that it was temporarily unavailable, my cell phone rang.

“Aargh!” I took a look at the display. Tom.

“Did you try to call me?” he asked when I picked up.

“I started to, but then Ruth Minkus called.”

“She called you? Why? Did she start accusing you again?”

“No,” I said wearily. I didn’t feel like explaining. Over the past few days all I’d done was explain. What I wanted-what I needed-right now was to be back in the White House kitchen, working on the Egg Roll. We were already three days behind schedule. “She called to apologize,” I said. “Long story.”

He waited a beat. “So, what’s up?”

Was it my imagination, or was there a lilt of impatience in his tone? “The White House Egg Roll,” I began.

“We’ve been over that.”

“No,” I said carefully. “You said you expected they would cancel it. But they can’t.”

“They ‘can’t’?”

“You know what I mean.” I grimaced at the pleading tone in my voice. “I think it’s a mistake to cancel the Egg Roll.”

“Oh you do?”

“Yes I do,” I said, getting my back up. “Who can I talk to about it?”

“I’ll look into it for you.”

“No, Tom,” I said, regaining a little composure. “You’re responsible for my actions, remember?” Without waiting for him to answer, I pressed on. “That means that you have a conflict of interest. You believe keeping me out of the kitchen will keep me out of trouble. Or,” I added, with a smidge of sarcasm, “your perception of trouble. I think it makes more sense for me to talk with someone else about this. Do you have Craig’s cell phone number handy?”

“You would go over my head?”

I wouldn’t really, but I was desperate and I didn’t want him to call my bluff. Even though we occasionally got angry with one another, we knew our limits. Calling Craig would push things and I truly didn’t want to cause irreparable damage to our relationship. Even if this was turning into my career versus his career. “Maybe Craig isn’t my best option. How about if I talk with Paul Vasquez?”

Seconds ticked by without my being able to read his mood. Why were so many of our conversations so antagonistic lately?

“That might be a good idea,” he finally answered and I sensed conciliation in his words. “I do understand how important this is for you.”

“I know you do, and I also know you’re in a tough position.”

We were both silent for a long moment.

“I’m probably less likely to get into trouble if I’m at work,” I said.

He made a noise that might have been a laugh. “You may be right.” Shifting gears, he asked, “Anything else new?”

I debated telling him about Bucky having the Minkus file on his home computer, but decided to hold that back for now. No need to get Bucky into trouble u