And if there was one thing Kate hated more than Alex English, it was admitting that so many things intimidated her. Nuts.
“I recommend our potato cakes, sir and madam,” the waiter said in a soft, musical accent that appealed to something deep within Kate’s battling innards. “With one of our fresh sausages, and a fruit parfait and coffee, it’s the best breakfast you’ll ever eat.” He kissed his fingers and gestured like Kate had seen a Frenchman make once. In spite of herself, her smile became more genuine.
“Sounds good to me,” she said to the waiter, guessing it wouldn’t hurt her overall state of being as it related to Alex English if she were nice to this guy. He, after all, was only trying to make a living. Kate could claim some sort of kinship with him, as she couldn’t understand or appreciate in Alex. Except for his kindness to her mother, she amended, because she was honest even when she didn’t much want to be.
“And me,” said Alex, sounding suave and man-of-the-worldly.
Not that Kate knew anything about men of the world except that she’d had to dodge advances from several of them who’d managed to spot her in spite of her sober attire after dancing for Little Egypt. The bounders. The cads. The lousy bastards.
At least, she told herself, she could be glad that Alex didn’t want her to do anything unseemly in payment for his generosity to her mother. After the waiter walked away, she gazed surreptitiously at Alex as she flapped her napkin out of its folds and placed it on her lap.
He was a good-looking man, darn him. Kate wouldn’t really mind it if he found her attractive, she supposed, although she’d kill him if he offered her any lewd suggestions. Still and all, it was sort of pleasant to know that handsome men found a girl desirable. With renewed rancor, she pondered the unpleasant fact that she couldn’t even get that much satisfaction out of Alex English. He offered Kate nothing at all. Except as it related to her mother.
Kate called herself at least six bad names as she considered what a selfish, self-centered person she must be to want Alex to desire her. Her only consideration should be for her mother.
Nuts. Alex English drove her crazy, and that was all there was to it. She couldn’t even think properly around him.
“Thank you for taking breakfast with me, Miss Finney.”
She glanced at him, seeking signs that he was about to spring something on her. She didn’t see any. Nevertheless, she knew better than to think a man like Alex English would bother to take a girl like her to breakfast unless he had an ulterior motive. “Right. What did you want me for?”
He tipped his head slightly and gazed at her in calm deliberation. If Kate were able to do anything she wanted to do just then, she supposed she’d first throw a few table implements at him, then jump up and down and scream, and then run away somewhere and cry. Then she’d take a long nap. She was so tired, her eyes felt like somebody had thrown sand in them.
Since she was presently sitting in a public restaurant and was supposed to be a civilized adult human being, she did none of those things. Rather, she sat calmly and without flinching and watched Alex think. Her palms itched. She really wanted to fidget. Darn him.
“I must say, Miss Finney, you don’t believe in giving a fellow a break, do you?”
She frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He sighed. “I don’t know how often or in how many ways I can say this, but I wish we could be friendly acquaintances. If we can’t be friends. I’m trying in every way I can think of to help your mother. I’m not doing it because I have any interest in—in showing you up, I think is the expression.”
“Hmmm.”
“Rather, the fact is that I met your mother, I like your mother, and I’m sorry she’s so ill. I thought when I met her, and I still think, that she deserves better than the Charity Ward.” He held up a hand as if to ward off an attack from Kate. “Not that there’s anything wrong with the Charity Ward. It’s a swell place for people who have no other choice, and I donate a lot of money to the hospital on a yearly basis in order to keep it running. Your mother, as of the day she met me, acquired a choice. I have the money to help her, and I’m doing it. I’m sorry if you don’t want your mother to receive the best medical care—”
“Nuts!” That stung, darn it. “I do, too, want Ma to have the best medical care!” How nice it must be to have so much money you could afford to toss heaps of it at a hospital on a yearly basis. She bit her tongue so as not to say so.
He nodded. “But you can’t pay for it, and I can. Therefore, I don’t understand why you persist in being so rude to me.”
She couldn’t, either, although she feared it had something to do with wanting to be his equal and knowing she wasn’t. Which wasn’t her fault. Or Ma’s. Or Bill’s. Or even his. It was her father’s, she guessed, although she wasn’t even entirely certain about that. Maybe they’d have been poor even if her mother had married a decent man. She almost laughed when that thought crossed her mind. If Ma had married a decent man, Kate, Bill, and Walter wouldn’t exist today.
She heaved a sigh, thinking that would probably be better for the world and her both. She gazed at Alex, wondering what to say to him. She knew she shouldn’t be rude to a man who was being of such benefit to the person she loved best in the whole world. Because she felt obliged, and a little guilty for giving him such a hard time, she mumbled, “I don’t mean to be rude. I’m not used to people doing stuff for me. I—I don’t know how to take things, I guess.”
He nodded, folded his hands together, and put his elbows on the table. Kate was surprised to see him do that, since she’d always assumed rich people were taught proper manners from the cradle and would, therefore, never put their elbows on a table. He didn’t speak, and she got nervous so she fiddled with the napkin in her lap.
After several seconds of fiddling, her nerves started snapping like the electrical current she’d seen in the Mechanical Hall. Darn it, why didn’t he say something? She’d apologized to him. Sort of. Darn it, maybe it hadn’t exactly been an apology, but it was as close as Kate generally got to one.
And still he didn’t speak.
Finally, Kate decided it was either speak herself or leap up from the table and bolt out of the restaurant, so she decided to speak, since it would be less humiliating than her other option. “Er, what’s a parfait?” She’d never eaten a parfait before, but she guessed if it was made out of fruit, it couldn’t be too bad.
Alex gazed at her for several more seconds before he lowered his hands to the table and spoke. Kate would have sighed with relief, only she didn’t want him to know how unnerved she was. “I imagine this one is going to be a mixture of different kinds of fruits.”
She nodded. “Ah.” That sounded all right. Kate liked fruit. She didn’t eat it very often, because fruit was expensive unless you got it outside the fruit stalls before the markets opened for the day or after they shut down. Since she was currently working two jobs and visiting her mother in the hospital morning and night, she didn’t have time to do that, but she still liked fruit.
The waiter showed up with the coffee, and Kate thanked him with genuine gratitude for delivering her from having to be in company with Alex English and not knowing how to behave. “Thank you.”
Alex didn’t offer his thanks aloud, but he smiled at the waiter. Kate guessed it was okay to have spoken her thanks aloud. Darn it, she was going to have to visit the new public library and see if she could find a book on etiquette.
“And here are your parfaits,” the waiter said after pouring the coffee. He set pretty stemmed glass bowls in front of Kate and Alex.
“Looks delicious,” Alex murmured as he picked up a spoon.
It looked kind of strange to Kate. She dipped her spoon into the glass, scooped up some fruit, leaned over, and peered at it. She discerned bits of orange and apple. Those were easy. There was another fruit in there, too, and Kate thought she recognized it. “Is this a piece of banana?”
Alex, who was chewing, lifted an eyebrow, which
made him look astounded. Instantly, Kate bridled. Before he could swallow, she said sharply, “People in my neighborhood don’t eat this kind of stuff all the time, you know.”
“I beg your pardon? I didn’t say a thing, Miss Finney. Why are you snapping at me now?”
“Oh, nuts.” Kate felt like crying. Again. Darn it, why was she always assuming the worst of this man? “I’m sorry.” There. She’d out-right apologized to him. “I didn’t mean to be rude.”
“I accept your apology, and thank you for offering it,” said Alex. “Yes, that’s a piece of banana. Try it, Miss Finney. It’s really quite good.”
He didn’t sound sarcastic, although Kate couldn’t imagine why. He was probably storing up a trainload of sarcasm and would hit her with it later. “I will.” She did. It was very good. “I like it.”
“Good.” He smiled at last. “Have you eaten bananas before, Miss Finney?”
She nodded. “Ma and I used to go to the produce market early in the morning when the stuff was coming in. You can get some great bargains then, because the grocers are selling off their produce from the day before. Every now and then, Ma would find a banana or two. I like them when they’re not soft and squishy.”
“Mmmm,” agreed Alex, chewing.
Kate dipped into her parfait dish again. Thus far, she’d identified the banana, the orange, and the apple. She thought the other orange fruit was a peach, but there was some white stuff in there that baffled her. Holding up her spoon, she said, “What’s that white stuff?”
Alex leaned over and perused her spoon’s contents. “I think you mean the coconut.”
Kate was genuinely surprised. “Coconut? You mean that white stuff is what’s inside those round brown things with all the hair on them?” Interesting.
With a chuckle, Alex nodded. “Yes indeed. Astonishing, isn’t it?”
“I had no idea. Since neither Ma nor I could figure out what you’re supposed to do with one, we never bought one. They’re hard as rocks, though.” She grinned, feeling the tiniest bit more confident. “I know that because I dropped one once. On my foot. It hurt for a week. My foot, I mean.”
“They grow on palm trees in the tropics. Like dates. Have you ever eaten a date?”
She shook her head. “No. Too exotic for the likes of me, I guess. Like coconuts.”
“I doubt that.”
She glanced at him. “Beg pardon?”
“I don’t think either coconuts or dates are too exotic for you. You’re an Egyptian dancer, don’t forget. If anything’s exotic, I’d say that is. Not to mention telling fortunes. That’s pretty exotic, too.”
“Guess I never thought of it like that.” She was glad he had, however, because she liked the notion that she was at least equal to an exotic fruit. Which was pretty silly, she supposed.
The waiter brought the rest of their breakfast. The succulent aroma made Kate’s mouth water. She guessed she hadn’t eaten a whole lot lately. She didn’t have time, what with two jobs—sometimes three—and running to the hospital a couple of times a day. It took a lot of restraint for her not to gobble her food, which was the most delicious breakfast she’d ever eaten, but she managed. She really didn’t want Alex to think any worse of her than he already did. Her mother had taught all her children good table manners, and Kate used them.
“This is delicious,” Alex muttered after polishing off most of his eggs, potato cakes, and sausages.
“Yes.” Kate dabbed at her mouth with her napkin, a linen number that was probably laundered after each use. She hated even to think about the soap and laundry bills this place must have to pay. The coffee was good, too. Kate lifted her cup to her lips and sipped a little more of it.
“I have a proposition for you, Miss Finney.”
Kate’s cup hit the saucer with a loud clink. Her head jerked up. “You what?”
Darn it all, if he was going to prove himself to be a rat just when Kate had almost decided he wasn’t, she didn’t know what she’d do. Throw something at him, probably, thereby causing a public scene and disgracing herself.
He held out a placating hand. “Now don’t get all upset, please, Miss Finney. My proposition is a purely—pure one.” He frowned. “A person really has to watch his step around you, doesn’t he?”
She scowled back. “When men offer women propositions, they usually aren’t pure. I know you’re real high class and all, but even you must know that.”
His lips thinned. “There’s no need to be ugly, Miss Finney. I am not the type of man to make an impure proposition to any female. Not even you.”
She gripped the table. “And exactly what is that supposed to mean?”
“It means that you take every single thing I say in the worst possible light. For God’s sake, Miss Finney, will you please just relax and listen to me? And stop twisting everything I say until it means something else, will you? It’s an aggravating trait, and one you ought to conquer if you expect to get anywhere in this life.”
Kate held on to her mulish mood for a couple of seconds longer, then eased up a bit. Without lowering her guard, she said cautiously, “I’ll try.”
He cast a beseeching glance at the ceiling before looking at her again. “Thank you.”
“So, what’s this proposition of yours?”
He sucked in a deep breath, as if he still didn’t trust her. Well, that was fine with her. She didn’t trust him, either.
“It’s about your mother.”
She relaxed a little bit more. “Oh.”
“She mentioned that she liked the country.”
“Yeah?” So what? She didn’t say that, since Alex might think it sounded challenging. He might be right.
“I went to see my own mother yesterday. She lives on our family farm about twenty miles southwest of Chicago.”
“A farm?” Kate wrinkled her nose. “Oh, yeah, that’s right. You’re a farmer, aren’t you?” Kate couldn’t reconcile the elegant, dapper Alex English with her mental image of a farmer. And that, she figured, only went to show her yet once more how little she knew about anything.
“Yes.” He sounded a trifle defensive. “I run a very successful farming operation. The English farms have become a byword in the grain and beef industries.”
“Oh.” Whatever that meant. The only thing Kate knew about grain and beef was that you could make bread out of the one, and you ate the other on special occasions that were too good for beans and potatoes and cabbage.
“I’d like to take your mother to visit my mother. On the farm.”
Kate gaped at him. “You what?”
He spoke again, and again he sounded slightly defensive. “I’d like to take your mother to visit the farm. She said she enjoyed the countryside. I think the fresh air would do her some good.”
“Yeah,” said Kate. She didn’t want her mother deserting her to go to the blasted countryside. “It probably would.”
“Good. I was hoping you’d consent.”
“Consent?” As if he needed her consent. All he needed to do was ask Ma. Ma would probably love leaving the city for the country, although Kate knew she’d miss her children.
And Kate would die.
No, no, no. Kate was stronger than that. No matter how much her heart felt as if it were being shredded into bloody strips.
Alex smiled and seemed to relax. “Well, I wouldn’t make the suggestion to her if you didn’t approve of it. I know better than to cross you, Miss Finney.”
Kate didn’t think that was funny, so she didn’t smile. Nor did she comment.
Alex didn’t seem to notice. “I think she’d enjoy it, and I know my mother would be happy to meet her.”
“Yeah?” Kate wasn’t. She couldn’t imagine her own beloved mother having anything at all in common with Mrs. Rich Lady English.
“I’m sure of it. The weather is just about perfect this time of year, and the apricots and peaches are beginning to bear.”
“Are they?” So what? Did he want Ma to pick his fruit for him
? “Um, I don’t think Ma’s in any condition to do any work on a farm, Mr. English.”
He blinked at her. “Beg pardon?”
Nuts. She’d gone and done it again. “Nothing.”
It wasn’t nothing, though, as she recognized when Alex began looking sort of thundery. “Miss Finney, if you think I’m inviting your mother to visit my farm because—”
“No!” She held a hand out. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think that. Not really. It’s only . . .” Blast. It was only what? Opting for honesty because she didn’t know how else to put it, Kate blurted out, “It’s only that I can’t imagine anybody wanting us Finneys visiting unless they need something done that we could do.” There. Let him chew on that one. This was so embarrassing.
“I see.” He still looked angry. What a surprise.
She jumped when he leaned over and poked the table in front of her with his forefinger. “For your information, Miss Finney, neither my mother nor I are snobs, as you obviously believe us to be. And my sister, who is fourteen years old, would love to have company. She’s bored to flinders on the farm.”
“Really?” Kate smiled when she thought about Alex English having an adolescent sister. She couldn’t feature him as anybody’s brother. “Kids that age can be a pain.”
His eyes went kind of squinty. “Were you? When you were that age, I mean. Were you a pain?”
Heck, no, she hadn’t been a pain. She’d been too busy going to school, working, and trying to keep Ma out of her father’s way. “Probably.” She didn’t meet his gaze. Fortunately, the waiter had refilled her coffee cup—and if that wasn’t a fancy custom, Kate didn’t know what was—so she could take a sip of coffee to occupy herself.
Alex stared at her for a moment before he said, “Hmmm.”
Hadn’t anybody ever told this man that it was impolite to stare? Kate was about to inform him of this pertinent fact of life when he transferred his scrutiny to his own coffee cup. Kate sagged inside with relief. “At any rate, I wanted to ask you before I proposed the trip to your mother. I’ll have to consult with the doctors first, of course, in order to ascertain if she’s strong enough to travel.”
Bicycle Built for Two Page 10