Fic: Bones: In the Trenches, Part 18/30
Chapter 18: KP Duty and Official Functions
Author: amilyn
Rating: PG-13 (themes, abuse)
Chapter 17
Chapter 18: KP Duty and Official Functions
***
Mrs. Bradenton was like a whirling dervish in the kitchen. She set up stations with bowls, pans, recipes, and ingredients. She had Temperance mix one hors d'oeuvre at a time while she spun from station to station, checking and measuring and prepping.
Temperance held the bowls tightly as she mixed, hoping she wouldn't clumsily ruin anything. For each recipe she read the ingredients three times.
Her nerves slowly stilled. There was something soothing about the fiddly work. Roll, press, wrap, roll, dip. Roll, press, wrap, roll, dip. That was the ham balls. Then the cheese ball mixture was about controlling the crumbliness--press, hold, transfer--so they got to the baking sheets and baked to a browned lightness with a surprise kick of cayenne pepper.
Mrs. Bradenton whisked egg yolks and sugar. "Now, Representatives Gutiérrez, Reynolds, and Lipinski will be here. They're new representatives, just sworn in this January."
"Representatives?" The question was out before Temperance could stop herself. She held her breath, waiting, hoping Mrs. Bradenton wouldn't be angry.
"Oh. Of course. This is your first cocktail party here. They're Illinois representatives to the House. In DC."
"Why...?" She bit back this question.
"Why are they coming here?"
Temperance nodded and chanced a look at Mrs. Bradenton, who added lemon and other ingredients to her bowl.
"Jake's job is pretty important. He's the manager of the Ford Assembly Plant in Chicago Heights. It's the oldest continuously-operating Ford plant in North America."
"He must be very good at his job," Temperance offered.
"He is." Mrs. Bradenton smiled and her cheeks, pink from oven heat and movement, appled up. "Anyway, the Ford plant is big business here, and so the various suppliers and distributors want a chance to schmooze with Jake and the other managers, and the representatives want to demonstrate their support for local labor."
Temperance pressed a butter, flour, and nut mixture into the bottom of a baking pan. She didn't know what to say, so she spread pecan bits evenly over it like the recipe said.
"Anyway, us Ford wives take turns throwing parties, and I host several a year." She set her bowl down and stirred the pan on the stove, let the brown mixture pour off her spoon, then nodded. "All right, just bring that pan over here." She poured the liquid over the pecans. "Tilt it to get into that corner...just like that. You're a natural, Temperance."
Temperance took a deep breath. Certainly there must be a family somewhere that was like hers and not so fixated on traditional women's roles.
"Go ahead and put that in the oven. You know, I really appreciate your help. I miss getting to do this with Polly. Some of my best times with her were party prep. If you're interested, you can serve at the party, like Polly did. That's paid help, by the way; we'd pay you just like we did her."
Temperance paused in counting apricots, not sure what the right answer was.
"And if you don't like it this time, you don't have to do it again. All you have to do is carry trays around, offer people hors d'oeuvres, and remember to smile at everyone."
Just like Mrs. Dougherty said. Smiling. "All right," she said tentatively.
They baked and cooked until well past one. There were layer bars: pecan and caramel, apricot and macadamia nut, chocolate and coconut, and lemon. There were the ham balls, cheese balls, bacon-wrapped sausages, miniature onion and cheese quiches. Mrs. Bradenton was counting bottles of alcohol--Mr. Bradenton, she said, played bartender because he missed college--and making a list of what she needed to replenish.
"Everything looks good, Temperance. Those plates you arranged look particularly attractive. You covered them with plastic, right?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Then we're done. The punch gets made tomorrow. Do you have a black skirt and a white blouse?"
"I do, yes."
"Then plan to wear that and we should be good to go." Mrs. Bradenton smiled at her briefly before returning to her counting and list-making.
***
Temperance couldn't remember ever being in a space so full. Mr. Bradenton had moved any unnecessary furniture to the master bedroom or garage, and even so, the house was packed.
Her instructions were clear. Smile. Say hello to everyone. Make eye contact. Offer food. Ask if they're enjoying themselves. Offer drinks. Make eye contact. Smile. She didn't need to converse, just smile, greet, offer food and drink, move around the room, and smile some more. She could do this. She took a deep breath, picked up a tray of hors d'oeuvres, plastered a smile across her face, and moved back into the gathering throng of people.
"Heard they were going to start the Escort in Europe."
"Oh, yes, thank you. Nora's ham balls are the best I've ever had."
"Miss? Miss? Could you bring me another Long Island iced tea?"
"Hey, Polly! How's it...oh. You're not Polly. Sorry. Could you get me more of those lemon bars? No one makes them like Nora."
Tray held high, Temperance tried to maneuver around the bodies while sweat dripped down her back. Exhausted, she wended her way through the crowd and set the hors d'oeuvres tray on the sidebar. She hadn't dropped one yet. She scooted around a gaggle of women with punch glasses in their hands. "Mr. Bradenton?"
He held up a finger, nodding to a man wearing a polo shirt. "Well, Luis, it's good to have you in office. Our workers at the plant appreciate your support."
"Thank you."
"Mr. Bradenton? Someone asked for another Long Island iced tea."
"Oh. Why don't you just take the pitcher and offer refills?"
"Yes, sir." She picked up the pitcher and turned into an outstretched hand. She grasped the pitcher from both sides, but the liquid only sloshed and didn't spill.
The man attached to the hand smiled. "I'm Luis Gutiérrez."
She glanced sideways. Mr. Bradenton was already engaged in conversation with another man, and she was not sure what to do. She shifted the pitcher and offered her hand since Mr. Gutiérrez hadn't moved. "Temperance Brennan."
"So, are the Bradentons treating you right?" His grip was firm and even, and he let go after a quick handshake.
"Yes, sir."
"You're awfully young to be serving liquor, aren't you?"
"I--" Temperance looked at Mr. Bradenton again. "I don't know if..."
"It's all right, Luis," Mrs. Bradenton had stepped up behind her.
Temperance jumped, but still didn't spill the pitcher.
Mrs. Bradenton's hand closed around the handle, and she tugged the pitcher gently. "Temperance is our foster daughter. Polly always used to serve everyone, and Jake forgets sometimes that the rules are a bit different."
Temperance reminded herself to smile.
"So how old are you, Temperance?"
"I'm sixteen, Congressman."
"Are you doing well in school?"
"Yes, sir." Temperance stepped away and picked up a tray still piled with lemon bars.
"Temperance is a bona fide genius," Mrs. Bradenton said. "Except for today, I don't think I've ever seen her do anything but study on a weekend. She works very hard."
"Good for you, Temperance," Congressman Gutiérrez said. "A good education is the best building block for life."
"Yes, sir."
"Luis, have you met--" Mrs. Bradenton pointed out another guest and stepped away.
Temperance slipped into the crowd, holding up the tray to avoid spilling. When she found the guests who'd asked for refills, she extended the tray. "Sir? Sir, Mrs. Bradenton is bringing around a pitcher with your drink if you still want a refill."
"Thank you, young lady. I was just telling Mrs. Mitchell here how efficient you are. You have a real memory for faces."
"Sir?"
"Well, this huge crowd here, and I've seen you find every person who's asked you for something and bring exactly what they want."
"That's what I was hired to do, sir."
He laughed. "She's amazing, isn't she?"
Mrs. Mitchell nodded, laughing with him.
Temperance smiled, realizing that every time she remembered to smile, she found the smile had faded and needed to be put back on. "Would you like anything else?" They declined, and she moved around the room again. It had been three hours since the first guests had arrived and she hadn't tripped or dropped anything yet. Four hours to go.
She swapped trays again and saw Mrs. Bradenton. "Did the gentleman by the door get his iced tea?"
"He did, thank you. That was Congressman Reynolds. He was very impressed with you."
She smiled, not sure what she should say. "The ham balls are a big hit."
Mrs. Bradenton's smile got bigger. "You did a great job with my recipe, Temperance. Yours are nearly as good as the ones Polly made, and she had years to perfect her technique." She scanned the room. "Drinks look full. Trays are well stocked. It's back to circulating, I think."
Temperance offered trays to groups of people, moving among the cologne-scented bodies amidst the hum of constant chatter.
"Have you seen the new green?"
"It's not as bad as the F-150 redesign they keep talking about."
"I hear there's a deal in the works with Turkey."
"Congressman Reynolds sounds like a labor supporter."
"I think Congressman Gutiérrez is the union guy.
By the time the last guest left, they were down to a veggie tray and dregs in the bottles, and Temperance wondered about the legal ramifications of the attendees driving after leaving the party. She was distracted from the thought by Mr. Bradenton handing her a black trash bag. It was after eleven by the time the house was tidied, swept, and mopped, and the last piece of furniture was put back in place.
"Whew. That one was a marathon!" Mrs. Bradenton flopped down on the couch. "Temperance, you were like the Energizer Bunny. Just amazing."
Jake popped open a beer and lowered himself into his armchair, which creaked a soft protest. "You ladies were the heart and soul of this party. And the stomach. Thank you both."
Temperance was not sure what internal organs had to do with a party, nor how a party had a "soul," but she was too tired to ponder it.
"Jake." Mrs. Bradenton's eyebrows rose, and she looked from her husband to Temperance and back.
"Right." He shifted, dug in his pocket, and pulled out cash, which he carefully counted off before handing it to her. "Take it. You earned it."
"Temperance, do you want me to pick you up tomorrow and take you to the bank? We can open a savings account for you."
Temperance blinked. "Yes, Mrs. Bradenton. Thank you!" The stack of bills--she'd counted twelve coming off the roll of cash--felt damp and thick between her fingers. They felt like possibility.
"Nora. I told you to call me Nora."
"Good night, Nora," she said, then headed upstairs to shower and fall into bed.
***
Chapter 19
***
Posting Schedule: This story has 30 parts, which will post here and at ff.net on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays.
Author's Notes
The following are real people:
Congressman Luis Gutiérrez
Congressman Mel Reynolds
Author's Notes
Thanks upon thanks to my wonderful betas and sounding boards: jennasq, b1uemorpho, and havocthecat. HUGE and effusive gratitude to my line-editor and prodder to make this story as good as I could at this time, as well as encouragement and sounding board services while I planned and wrote for two years to Ayiana2.
Feedback is most assuredly welcome.
***
Author: amilyn
Rating: PG-13 (themes, abuse)
Chapter 17
Chapter 18: KP Duty and Official Functions
***
Mrs. Bradenton was like a whirling dervish in the kitchen. She set up stations with bowls, pans, recipes, and ingredients. She had Temperance mix one hors d'oeuvre at a time while she spun from station to station, checking and measuring and prepping.
Temperance held the bowls tightly as she mixed, hoping she wouldn't clumsily ruin anything. For each recipe she read the ingredients three times.
Her nerves slowly stilled. There was something soothing about the fiddly work. Roll, press, wrap, roll, dip. Roll, press, wrap, roll, dip. That was the ham balls. Then the cheese ball mixture was about controlling the crumbliness--press, hold, transfer--so they got to the baking sheets and baked to a browned lightness with a surprise kick of cayenne pepper.
Mrs. Bradenton whisked egg yolks and sugar. "Now, Representatives Gutiérrez, Reynolds, and Lipinski will be here. They're new representatives, just sworn in this January."
"Representatives?" The question was out before Temperance could stop herself. She held her breath, waiting, hoping Mrs. Bradenton wouldn't be angry.
"Oh. Of course. This is your first cocktail party here. They're Illinois representatives to the House. In DC."
"Why...?" She bit back this question.
"Why are they coming here?"
Temperance nodded and chanced a look at Mrs. Bradenton, who added lemon and other ingredients to her bowl.
"Jake's job is pretty important. He's the manager of the Ford Assembly Plant in Chicago Heights. It's the oldest continuously-operating Ford plant in North America."
"He must be very good at his job," Temperance offered.
"He is." Mrs. Bradenton smiled and her cheeks, pink from oven heat and movement, appled up. "Anyway, the Ford plant is big business here, and so the various suppliers and distributors want a chance to schmooze with Jake and the other managers, and the representatives want to demonstrate their support for local labor."
Temperance pressed a butter, flour, and nut mixture into the bottom of a baking pan. She didn't know what to say, so she spread pecan bits evenly over it like the recipe said.
"Anyway, us Ford wives take turns throwing parties, and I host several a year." She set her bowl down and stirred the pan on the stove, let the brown mixture pour off her spoon, then nodded. "All right, just bring that pan over here." She poured the liquid over the pecans. "Tilt it to get into that corner...just like that. You're a natural, Temperance."
Temperance took a deep breath. Certainly there must be a family somewhere that was like hers and not so fixated on traditional women's roles.
"Go ahead and put that in the oven. You know, I really appreciate your help. I miss getting to do this with Polly. Some of my best times with her were party prep. If you're interested, you can serve at the party, like Polly did. That's paid help, by the way; we'd pay you just like we did her."
Temperance paused in counting apricots, not sure what the right answer was.
"And if you don't like it this time, you don't have to do it again. All you have to do is carry trays around, offer people hors d'oeuvres, and remember to smile at everyone."
Just like Mrs. Dougherty said. Smiling. "All right," she said tentatively.
They baked and cooked until well past one. There were layer bars: pecan and caramel, apricot and macadamia nut, chocolate and coconut, and lemon. There were the ham balls, cheese balls, bacon-wrapped sausages, miniature onion and cheese quiches. Mrs. Bradenton was counting bottles of alcohol--Mr. Bradenton, she said, played bartender because he missed college--and making a list of what she needed to replenish.
"Everything looks good, Temperance. Those plates you arranged look particularly attractive. You covered them with plastic, right?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Then we're done. The punch gets made tomorrow. Do you have a black skirt and a white blouse?"
"I do, yes."
"Then plan to wear that and we should be good to go." Mrs. Bradenton smiled at her briefly before returning to her counting and list-making.
***
Temperance couldn't remember ever being in a space so full. Mr. Bradenton had moved any unnecessary furniture to the master bedroom or garage, and even so, the house was packed.
Her instructions were clear. Smile. Say hello to everyone. Make eye contact. Offer food. Ask if they're enjoying themselves. Offer drinks. Make eye contact. Smile. She didn't need to converse, just smile, greet, offer food and drink, move around the room, and smile some more. She could do this. She took a deep breath, picked up a tray of hors d'oeuvres, plastered a smile across her face, and moved back into the gathering throng of people.
"Heard they were going to start the Escort in Europe."
"Oh, yes, thank you. Nora's ham balls are the best I've ever had."
"Miss? Miss? Could you bring me another Long Island iced tea?"
"Hey, Polly! How's it...oh. You're not Polly. Sorry. Could you get me more of those lemon bars? No one makes them like Nora."
Tray held high, Temperance tried to maneuver around the bodies while sweat dripped down her back. Exhausted, she wended her way through the crowd and set the hors d'oeuvres tray on the sidebar. She hadn't dropped one yet. She scooted around a gaggle of women with punch glasses in their hands. "Mr. Bradenton?"
He held up a finger, nodding to a man wearing a polo shirt. "Well, Luis, it's good to have you in office. Our workers at the plant appreciate your support."
"Thank you."
"Mr. Bradenton? Someone asked for another Long Island iced tea."
"Oh. Why don't you just take the pitcher and offer refills?"
"Yes, sir." She picked up the pitcher and turned into an outstretched hand. She grasped the pitcher from both sides, but the liquid only sloshed and didn't spill.
The man attached to the hand smiled. "I'm Luis Gutiérrez."
She glanced sideways. Mr. Bradenton was already engaged in conversation with another man, and she was not sure what to do. She shifted the pitcher and offered her hand since Mr. Gutiérrez hadn't moved. "Temperance Brennan."
"So, are the Bradentons treating you right?" His grip was firm and even, and he let go after a quick handshake.
"Yes, sir."
"You're awfully young to be serving liquor, aren't you?"
"I--" Temperance looked at Mr. Bradenton again. "I don't know if..."
"It's all right, Luis," Mrs. Bradenton had stepped up behind her.
Temperance jumped, but still didn't spill the pitcher.
Mrs. Bradenton's hand closed around the handle, and she tugged the pitcher gently. "Temperance is our foster daughter. Polly always used to serve everyone, and Jake forgets sometimes that the rules are a bit different."
Temperance reminded herself to smile.
"So how old are you, Temperance?"
"I'm sixteen, Congressman."
"Are you doing well in school?"
"Yes, sir." Temperance stepped away and picked up a tray still piled with lemon bars.
"Temperance is a bona fide genius," Mrs. Bradenton said. "Except for today, I don't think I've ever seen her do anything but study on a weekend. She works very hard."
"Good for you, Temperance," Congressman Gutiérrez said. "A good education is the best building block for life."
"Yes, sir."
"Luis, have you met--" Mrs. Bradenton pointed out another guest and stepped away.
Temperance slipped into the crowd, holding up the tray to avoid spilling. When she found the guests who'd asked for refills, she extended the tray. "Sir? Sir, Mrs. Bradenton is bringing around a pitcher with your drink if you still want a refill."
"Thank you, young lady. I was just telling Mrs. Mitchell here how efficient you are. You have a real memory for faces."
"Sir?"
"Well, this huge crowd here, and I've seen you find every person who's asked you for something and bring exactly what they want."
"That's what I was hired to do, sir."
He laughed. "She's amazing, isn't she?"
Mrs. Mitchell nodded, laughing with him.
Temperance smiled, realizing that every time she remembered to smile, she found the smile had faded and needed to be put back on. "Would you like anything else?" They declined, and she moved around the room again. It had been three hours since the first guests had arrived and she hadn't tripped or dropped anything yet. Four hours to go.
She swapped trays again and saw Mrs. Bradenton. "Did the gentleman by the door get his iced tea?"
"He did, thank you. That was Congressman Reynolds. He was very impressed with you."
She smiled, not sure what she should say. "The ham balls are a big hit."
Mrs. Bradenton's smile got bigger. "You did a great job with my recipe, Temperance. Yours are nearly as good as the ones Polly made, and she had years to perfect her technique." She scanned the room. "Drinks look full. Trays are well stocked. It's back to circulating, I think."
Temperance offered trays to groups of people, moving among the cologne-scented bodies amidst the hum of constant chatter.
"Have you seen the new green?"
"It's not as bad as the F-150 redesign they keep talking about."
"I hear there's a deal in the works with Turkey."
"Congressman Reynolds sounds like a labor supporter."
"I think Congressman Gutiérrez is the union guy.
By the time the last guest left, they were down to a veggie tray and dregs in the bottles, and Temperance wondered about the legal ramifications of the attendees driving after leaving the party. She was distracted from the thought by Mr. Bradenton handing her a black trash bag. It was after eleven by the time the house was tidied, swept, and mopped, and the last piece of furniture was put back in place.
"Whew. That one was a marathon!" Mrs. Bradenton flopped down on the couch. "Temperance, you were like the Energizer Bunny. Just amazing."
Jake popped open a beer and lowered himself into his armchair, which creaked a soft protest. "You ladies were the heart and soul of this party. And the stomach. Thank you both."
Temperance was not sure what internal organs had to do with a party, nor how a party had a "soul," but she was too tired to ponder it.
"Jake." Mrs. Bradenton's eyebrows rose, and she looked from her husband to Temperance and back.
"Right." He shifted, dug in his pocket, and pulled out cash, which he carefully counted off before handing it to her. "Take it. You earned it."
"Temperance, do you want me to pick you up tomorrow and take you to the bank? We can open a savings account for you."
Temperance blinked. "Yes, Mrs. Bradenton. Thank you!" The stack of bills--she'd counted twelve coming off the roll of cash--felt damp and thick between her fingers. They felt like possibility.
"Nora. I told you to call me Nora."
"Good night, Nora," she said, then headed upstairs to shower and fall into bed.
***
Chapter 19
***
Posting Schedule: This story has 30 parts, which will post here and at ff.net on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays.
Author's Notes
The following are real people:
Congressman Luis Gutiérrez
Congressman Mel Reynolds
Author's Notes
Thanks upon thanks to my wonderful betas and sounding boards: jennasq, b1uemorpho, and havocthecat. HUGE and effusive gratitude to my line-editor and prodder to make this story as good as I could at this time, as well as encouragement and sounding board services while I planned and wrote for two years to Ayiana2.
Feedback is most assuredly welcome.
***