Page 33 of Booked for Theft

NINE

“I have humiliated myself, that’s what I’ve done.”

My appointment went well, and outside needing to do a few new foot exercises to continue strengthening the muscles in my feet and ankles, I was declared healthy. In order to dodge politicians, we spent as much time as possible outside of the White House. Making use of my Smithsonian journal and new pens, I went on a rampage in the Library of Congress, poking my nose in a plethora of books in a search for a single reference on what year 0 MR was in the old calendar system.

I had no luck, but I did manage to get a rough timeline, in the old calendar system, of how everything fell apart, and there were even a few indications that the American people had noticed, but they had noticed when it was too late to stop the gears of treachery from turning.

When I wasn’t attempting to ferret out the downfall of the United States, I hunted for old texts on the Roman Empire, and I expanded my efforts to include Greek architecture as well.

If anyone did try to ferret out my intentions through my activities, they would find nothing but chaos and disorder, with no apparent method to the madness. If they got their hands on my journal, they would discover the truth, as I’d only given myself five pages in the back for ancient history while the rest of it was neatly organized by era in the old calendar system.

On Friday night, we attended a more official dinner, where a bunch of politicians, the President of the United States, the First Lady, and a few diplomats from abroad put on a show.

In some ways, the gathering reminded me of a pool of sharks in chummed water.

In one of the lulls, where all the bigwigs were far away from us, I leaned over to Bradley and whispered, “Please tell me we’re just an addition to this party.”

“We are,” he confirmed, grinning at me. “There are three heads of state present tonight, and President Castillo thought it would be nice to invite us since we aren’t leaving until tomorrow.”

“I think I missed their introductions,” I confessed.

“Remember the wily old man who struck up a conversation about the perils of antique books and their restoration?”

“Oh, yes. That was the one conversation I’ve had so far tonight that actually made sense to me. I like that guy.”

“That guy is the President of Germany, Eckhart Neumann. Do not be surprised if a package arrives at our home. One of his security members asked for my business card while you were chatting with him.”

I sucked in a breath. “I was just talking to him with his name! He told me his name, Bradley. He didn’t attach anything to it, he just said his name was Eckhart.”

My fiancé grinned at me. “You also spoke to a Spanish diplomat about spicy food.”

“I have humiliated myself, that’s what I’ve done.”

“You really haven’t. Politicians enjoy when people treat them like they’re people rather than their station. I’m sure they think you’re a breath of fresh air. I also gave one of his security members a copy of my business card. That one told me they have a policy of offering gifts in situations like yours, and you can expect something small as a token of their gratitude.”

“But I haven’t done anything for them.”

“No, but you demonstrated great compassion, and this is important to them. It’s all a part of the political show being put on here tonight. Because President Castillo is honoring you through your inclusion, the diplomats and heads of state are following his lead. You can expect things like bathing goods and little consumable luxury items. I’ve answered more questions about allergies, scent preferences, and our bathtub than I expected.”

I giggled at that. “What time are we being set free?”

Bradley checked his watch. “By nine. There will be a driver to take us to the hospital at two, then we’ll swing by the bookstore on the way home. You’ll sleep in the car until we get to your parents’ place, and I’ll catch a nap before our engagement party planning starts up. Dad’s going to handle safeguarding our precious finds while we’re dealing with the party planning and clothing shopping. Mom’s handling which stores we’ll be going to, as we weren’t home to make the arrangements.”

That was something. “And everyone can make it to the planning?”

“Everyone will be there. I asked my mother to acquire a special journal for you to take notes. You can use your dinosaur pen as an expression of your opinion on dated traditions.”

As laughter tended to draw unwanted attention, I clamped my lips together, fighting the urge to snicker over his commentary. Once I contained my mirth, I said, “You know what? I think I will.”

“If you want some good entertainment, watch the Italian diplomat. That woman lives to tweak President Castillo’s nose, and she’s been yanking his chain all night long. She asked if he’s the kind to put pasta in a blender, trying to make dough.”

It took every scrap of will to keep from howling my laughter over the situation. “I saw a video of that, and it had Italians reacting to it. One fainted. I’m determined to learn how to make pasta from scratch now. It can’t be that hard, or so said the Italians. I mean, it’s basically just flour and eggs, right?”

“If you want to make a mess of our kitchen trying to make noodles from scratch, I’ll even help you clean up. We will use jarred sauce for our first experiments. I’m not sure either one of us is ready to try homemade sauce.”

I nodded. “Trying to make the noodles from scratch seems like a safe start.”

“Once we conquer the noodles, we will attempt the sauce, and then we’ll bring our parents over to our place and feed them.”