Oak and Dagger Read Online Free Page A

away the goose bumps that prickled my skin as Gordon, Lorenzo, and I sloshed back to the grounds offices.
    Our offices were located underground, directly underneath the North Portico. Or as Lorenzo liked to say, in the bowels of the White House. Water dripped from our hair and the hems of our clothes onto the basement hallway’s concrete floor. Our shoes squished with each step.
    â€œThis is your last chance, Gordon.” Frida’s shrill voice made me jump. She must have been lurking just inside the doorway, waiting for us.
    Gordon passed her without a second glance. Undeterred, she followed. Her body swayed as her short legs struggled to keep up with Gordon’s long stride.
    Gordon picked up his pace.
    Frida had to jog to keep up. “You won’t like what I have to say to Ambrose.”
    â€œWhy would you think Gordon would steal anything from you?” I asked.
    â€œHe wants to use my research to find Jefferson’s treasure,” she said, panting as she tried to catch up. “Isn’t that it? You’re hoping to upstage me. That’s how you plan to get your revenge.”
    Gordon snorted at that.
    â€œ
Treasure?
” I asked.
    Frida ignored me and instead wagged her finger at Gordon’s back. “Don’t you dare deny it, Gordon Sims. Just ask the First Lady’s sister. She was the one who first noticed my research was missing. I bet you didn’t realize how closely she’s been working with
me
on the history project.”
    â€œShe is? She’s working with you?” I asked. That surprised me. Lettie Shaw had arrived two weeks ago to help Margaret Bradley take care of the twins, only she’d spent most of that time in the grounds office. She’d rearranged my desk three times in an attempt to be helpful. Her attempts, unfortunately, hadn’t been at all successful. Yesterday, it took me over an hour to find my to-do list. I’d finally found it filed under
D
for
Do
.
    If Frida enjoyed working with her, the next time Lettie showed up, I planned to send her over to the curator’s office.
    â€œOf course Lettie prefers to work with me over Gordon,” Frida crowed. “She’s a university professor and is interested in the White House’s history. We’re kindred spirits, which makes Gordon jealous. He’s always been jealous of the prestige the curator’s office gets when all you get is”—her nose wrinkled as she looked us up and down—“muddy.”
    We’d reached the grounds office. Gordon grabbed my arm and yanked me inside.
    â€œGo away, Frida,” he snapped and slammed the office door in her face. He then stomped across the large room that served as storage space and office space that Lorenzo and I shared. With a huff, Gordon disappeared into his private office.
    â€œDo we need to worry about her?” I asked Lorenzo since he’d been working for the White House for nearly nine years and knew the political landscape much better than I did.
    Lorenzo looked at the closed grounds office door and then toward Gordon’s office. “Frida’s not someone you want as an enemy,” Lorenzo said while I took a couple of towels out of my desk’s bottom drawer. I tossed him one. “But Gordon knows what he’s doing . . . I think.”
    â€œOf course I know what I’m doing,” Gordon said as he emerged from his private office. He was using a small white terrycloth towel to dry his wet hair. “Now, let’s figure out what happened out there with the irrigation line.”
    â€œWhat was she saying about a treasure?” I asked, unable to put the thought of digging up a box of glittering gold or jewels out of my mind. “Don’t tell me she thinks Thomas Jefferson hid gold somewhere in the gardens.”
    Gordon stamped his wet shoes on the concrete floor, creating a small puddle underneath him. “I have no idea what she’s talking