Read Online All the President’s Menus by Julie Hyzy - Free Book Online

told it is propaganda. That none of it is true. And yet . . .” He held his palms up. “Here you are.”
    “Are you telling me that your government sent you here, not knowing that you’d be working with me?”
    “We were told that your presence in the kitchen is a publicity stunt to allow women to believe that they have potential. Giving them such hopes encourages them to work harder at their jobs. We were told that life here is much the way it is at home: Women work but they cannot achieve positions of power.”
    “I think that’s deplorable,” I said.
    I don’t know what it was—the look on his face at that moment, or some vague sense that he agreed with my pronouncement—that spurred me to ask, “What do
you
think about that?”
    Kilian’s eyes grew wide. He looked as though he was about to share a confidence, but stopped himself with three fingers to his lips. “I will appreciate the chance to see your city and make good use of this ‘time off’ you have described. My colleagues may not agree with your decision, but I am in charge and they will abide by my instructions.”
    “I’m sorry our schedules had to change.”
    He said, “I am not so sorry,” which surprised me. His expression grew troubled. “You will keep this conversation in confidence?”
    “Yes,” I said, “no worries.”
    He held out his hand for me to shake. I did.
    Maybe I was reading a lot into the gesture, but I said, “I hope you find more about our country to appreciate. I wish you luck in your exploration.”
    This time his smile was genuine. “I will look forward to discussing further experiences with you.”

CHAPTER 7

    I met Cyan for a quick bite after work that evening. My young red-haired assistant with the ever-changing-color eyes agreed to meet at a local salad place before we visited Marcel in the hospital.
    “So, wait,” she said after we’d started eating. “These guys—coming from a country that prefers to keep its citizens in the dark about the rest of the world—are angry because they have
more
free time to explore the capital of the United States?”
    I speared a thin slice of Parmesan cheese and a bunch of arugula. “I think it’s more complicated than that. They’re in a new environment, with new rules. I think they’re simply uncomfortable here and they’re taking it out on me because, well, I’m the woman in charge.”
    “Which is also a point of contention.”
    I nodded and took a bite.
    “Maybe I’m glad I’m not working there right now.”
    After chewing and swallowing, I took a drink of water. “I’d love to have you back, Cyan. Right now, especially. How are things going?”
    “Without a paycheck? Without knowing how soon I’ll be back at work?” She shrugged and snagged a big chunk of salad. “Nerve-wracking. I’ve offered to substitute or to take temporary work at some of the local upscale places, but no luck. So many people out of work these days. The competition is tough.”
    “You’d think with your resume that restaurants would jump at the chance to take you on, even temporarily.”
    “That’s the thing. The transient nature of my status makes them leery. They know I could get called back at any time.”
    “Leaving them with an opening to fill, again,” I said.
    “I have to tell you, this situation makes me wonder.” She fiddled with her fork without looking up. “About where I’m going.”
    The greens in my stomach twisted into a knotty ball. “What do you mean?”
    Still not meeting my eyes, she said, “Bucky is your first in command. Believe me, I get it. He deserves that. But he’s not moving. And you’re not, either. Not that I want you to.” Shaking her head, she finally looked up. “This is coming out wrong.”
    “Not if it’s what’s on your mind,” I said. “If something is bothering you about the workplace, I need to hear it. What’s going on?”
    “You’re only a few years older than I am and you’re the executive chef at the White