Bicycle Built for Two

by Duncan, Alice

  “Oh, boy,” she said for lack of anything more original popping into her head. “This place is great.”

  She wasn’t fibbing. Trees bearing all sorts of different kinds of fruits lined the drive leading to a huge white house. To Kate, the place looked like a castle in disguise. She knew castles were supposed to be made out of stones and had battlements and crenels and so forth, but this place was big enough to be a castle, even if it was crafted from wood and painted a bright, sparkling white. Dark green shutters looked perfect against the white.

  The porch was something wonderful. Kate had daydreamed about porches like this one. She could imagine sitting out there on a summer evening, sipping lemonade and listening to owls hoot and watching cows graze, or whatever it was cows did. The only part of the cow Kate with which was familiar was the decaying odor of it once it went to the slaughterhouse.

  “Thanks,” said Alex, and the genuine pride ringing in his voice caught her by surprise.

  When she tore her gaze away from the house and directed it at his face, she saw the pride there, too. It wasn’t vanity; it was honest-to-goodness, genuine, true pride—in his family, in his heritage, and in himself for maintaining the former two. Kate didn’t blame him. She’d be proud if she’d managed to hang onto something like this, too. Heritage was good, if it was this type. Her own brand of heritage stank.

  She saw a woman and a girl step out onto the gigantic porch and wave at the carriage. “That your mother and sister?” An imp of nervousness began dancing in Kate’s chest and chipping away at her self-confidence. She wasn’t sure she was up to meeting the high-class English ladies.

  “Yes. They’re both looking forward to meeting you and your mother.”

  I’ll just bet. Kate wondered how many arms Alex had had to twist in order to get them to agree to have a couple of women from the slums visit their precious farm.

  Lordy, there she went getting snappish again, and it was all due to nervousness. She advised herself to calm down and tried to take her own advice. It wouldn’t do to approach those two ladies with a bad attitude and a chip on her shoulder. Kate knew how to behave. Her mother had tried her best to rear her with an appreciation of proper manners and deportment. The fact that her father had always interfered with these attempts, and the fact that they lived in a neighborhood where such qualities as manners and deportment weren’t honored or valued, didn’t matter now. At this particular moment, Kate needed all of her mother’s teachings, and she aimed to use them.

  She jiggled her mother’s shoulder gently. “Ma? Ma, we’re here.”

  Mrs. Finney stirred and struggled to sit up. “Oh, my,” she murmured, rubbing her eyes. “So soon?”

  “Yup. It’s really pretty, too.”

  “Did you have a good rest, Mrs. Finney?” Alex’s smile was as soft and tender for her mother as Kate’s had been. Kate appreciated him a lot just then.

  “Yes. Thank you. What a wonderful carriage you have.”

  “I’m glad you were comfortable.”

  “Oh, my, yes, I was comfortable. I’m sorry I slept, though, since I really wanted to see everything.”

  “I’ll be sure that you do,” Alex assured her. “Now I’d better let them know they’ve been spotted. He leaned out the window and hollered, “Ma! Mary Jo!” in a voice so loud it made Kate jump and Mrs. Finney laugh.

  It was moderately encouraging to know that even so sophisticated a swell as Alex English could holler when he was excited about something. Heck, it was encouraging to know he could get excited about something, for that matter. Kate spoke softly to her mother. “You ready for this, Ma?”

  “I’m looking forward to it, Katie.” Mrs. Finney patted her daughter’s hand. “Mr. English’s family must be exceptionally fine, for him to have turned out so well.”

  Hmmm. That put a new light on things. Kate said, “Right. Sure. Makes sense.” So, what did that make her? She was the product of a sainted mother and a devil of a father. Nuts. She didn’t want to think about her miserable beginnings now.

  Alex drew himself inside the carriage, laughing, and sat back with a whomp. “They’re excited about your visit. I’m afraid Mary Jo thinks farm life is dull and boring. I promised she could return with us to Chicago. I’m going to show her the Exposition.”

  Mrs. Finney laughed. “You sound as if you’re a very good brother to her, Alex.”

  “I try to be.”

  “My brothers are good to me, too,” Kate said, feeling defensive on her brothers’ account.

  “They are, indeed.” Mrs. Finney patted her hand again.

  “I’ve only met the one, Bill, and he’s a brick,” agreed Alex. “He’s smart, too. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’ll be making his fortune before he’s too much older.”

  Kate searched his face for signs that he was attempting to humor his companions, but didn’t see any. “You really think so?”

  Alex shrugged. “He’s smart and ambitious. He wouldn’t be the first man in America to turn his circumstances around and create a fortune for himself and his family. This is really the land of opportunity, if a person uses the opportunities available.” He grinned. “A little luck doesn’t hurt, either.”

  “I guess not.” Shoot, he sounded sincere.

  “Brace yourselves,” Alex advised before Kate could think anymore. “Mary Jo is a pistol.”

  Again, Mrs. Finney laughed. “I can’t wait to meet her.”

  A tiny, pointy dart of jealousy nicked Kate in the heart, and she gave herself a hard mental shake. Was she so insecure that she couldn’t allow her mother to like another human female? Brother, was that notion a kick in the teeth. Kate decided to do a little self-survey before going to sleep that night. She was discovering all sorts of things about herself that she didn’t like.

  The carriage entered a sweeping circular drive and slowed to a stop in front of the porch. Both English ladies had descended the stairs to the porch, Mrs. English with the grace and dignity befitting her years, Mary Jo with a whoop and several long bounds. Kate, who hadn’t until this minute known proper ladies behaved so enthusiastically, was impressed.

  “Alex!” Mary Jo shrieked.

  Grinning from ear to ear, Alex paused before opening the carriage door. “Better brace yourselves. My sister takes some getting used to.”

  Kate, wide-eyed with astonishment, only nodded. Mrs. Finney laughed again.

  Alex hollered, “Stand back, you little imp! We have two ladies in here!” He didn’t add that one of the ladies was infirm, which Kate appreciated.

  “I won’t be pushy,” his sister promised.

  Eyeing her curiously, Kate saw that she was a pretty girl, with curling brown hair and huge pansy-brown eyes. Her dress was pretty, but it wasn’t brand new. It even looked as if someone had lengthened it at one point, and had covered the faded former hemline with a row of rickrack. In other words, someone had done to this girl’s clothing exactly as Kate and her mother had been doing for ages now. This seemed strange to Kate, who had assumed all people who weren’t dirt poor threw old clothes out and bought or made new ones whenever they felt like it.

  Mary Jo had taken to jumping up and down and uttering small, joyful screams, while her mother eyed her and laughed indulgently. Alex’s sister, in short, looked as if she could be a handful, and Kate’s theories about rich folks suffered another slight wobble. Shoot, maybe rich folks weren’t so different from her class of people after all. Of course, having money made a whole lot of difference to the general comfort and health of one’s relatives, but that might possibly—Kate wasn’t about to jump to conclusions—be the only difference. Or one of the only differences.

  This weekend should prove to be interesting, if it turned out to be nothing else. Kate only prayed it would be serene and peaceful for her mother. Kate herself was willing to suffer the martyrdom of a saint if necessary in order to spare her mother pain. That being the case, she pasted on what felt like an artificial smile and prepared to meet Mrs. English and Alex’s sister.


  “Don’t attack me, Mary Jo. I’m going to put the steps down.” Alex grinned as he said it, but Kate detected steel behind the joking words.

  “I won’t,” Mary Jo promised. “Mother told me that Mrs. Finney isn’t well.” She clapped her hands over her mouth, as if she were conscious of saying something she shouldn’t have.

  But Alex only shook his head in mock disgust. Mrs. English sighed and said, “Mary Jo,” and Mrs. Finney laughed, so Kate didn’t guess she had to reprimand the talkative adolescent. She turned to her mother. “Here, Ma, take my arm.”

  Alex had descended from the carriage first. Kate acquitted him of doing so for any improper reason. He’d done it not because he wasn’t a gentleman, but because he wanted to assist Mrs. Finney as much as possible.

  Therefore, with Kate assisting from inside the carriage and Alex taking the sick woman firmly by the arm and guiding her slowly down the stairs, Mrs. Finney finally set foot on the grounds of the English family farm. Kate followed quickly after her mother.

  She was shocked speechless when, as soon as she was out of the carriage, Mary Jo threw her arms around her and hugged her hard. “Oh, Miss Finney, I’m so happy to meet you! I can’t wait to talk to you about what you do at the Columbian Exposition. Your jobs sound so exciting!”

  “Mary Jo,” Mrs. English murmured again. Her voice held an interesting degree of hopelessness, as if she didn’t really expect anything she said to curb her daughter’s boisterousness.

  Kate, who also doubted that such a mild reproof would quell the lively Mary Jo, had been about to say something polite before she was struck speechless by Mary Jo’s hug and her artless comment. When she caught her breath and stabilized her hat, which Mary Jo’s exuberance had caused to teeter, she said, “Um, really?”

  “Please forgive my sister,” Alex said, his voice heavy with censure. “She seems to have forgotten all the lessons in manners our mother tried her best to instill in her.”

  As if she realized she’d committed a social gaffe, Mary Jo leaped away from Kate. This movement was as abrupt as the hug had been. Kate, caught unawares twice in less than thirty seconds, staggered slightly. “Oh, please,” said she, “don’t scold. I don’t mind.” It startled her nearly senseless to realize she’d spoken the truth.

  “Well,” said Alex, unconvinced, “I’d rather not reward my sister for outrageous conduct.”

  “I’m sorry,” a contrite Mary Jo said, clasping her hands behind her back and looking embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to be so stupid.”

  “Don’t be silly,” said Kate, shooting Alex a quick glare that dared him to say anything else that might wound his little sister. “I don’t mind at all. In fact, you made us both feel welcome. I think we ought to meet your mother now, though.”

  “Of course.” Mary Jo stepped back, looking even more chastened than she had before, and Kate wished she’d kept her big mouth shut. She didn’t know how to behave in polite circles, and she ought just to observe these Englishes for awhile before trying to enter into their conversations.

  Alex, apparently satisfied that his sister aimed to behave from now on, stepped aside and presented Kate’s mother to his. “Mrs. Hazel Finney, please allow me to introduce you to my mother, Marguerite English.” Smiling at his sister, he added, “And, as you’ve probably guessed, this rambunctious urchin is my youngest sister, Mary Jo.”

  “How do you do?”

  Kate watched her mother be as gracious as any great lady to Alex’s mother and sister, and her heart swelled with love and pride. Marrying Kate’s father had been a hideous mistake on Hazel Finney’s part, but it had been one Mrs. Finney hadn’t anticipated. Kate didn’t think that misjudging a person who’d probably misrepresented himself to begin with should be held against a woman forever. She resented the Church, where she’d gone for assistance and guidance once or twice, for telling women it was their duty to remain in miserable, and even dangerous, marriages.

  Mrs. English took Mrs. Finney’s hand in both of hers and smiled warmly. “It’s such a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Finney. I’m so glad you could visit us. We get lonely way out here on the farm, and it’s such fun to have company.”

  “I hope you’ll think so after we’ve inconvenienced you for two days,” Kate’s mother responded, laughing.

  Holding her breath in anticipation of a coughing fit, Kate couldn’t recall the last time she’d seen her mother so perky. It astonished her that Ma could be so natural and comfortable with a woman whose position in life was so far above her own. She decided it might be a good thing if she watched how her mother behaved with these people and took notes. Thank God, a spasm didn’t follow Mrs. Finney’s laugh.

  “And Mary Jo,” continued Mrs. Finney, her smile becoming more intimate, “it’s so nice to be around young people again. My own children are all grown up, and I miss their youthful high jinks.”

  Mary Jo executed a perfect curtsy and smiled at Kate’s mother. “Thank you for being nice about my bad manners, Mrs. Finney. Alex is always scolding me for acting like a hoyden. My mother really has tried to teach me, but I keep forgetting.”

  Alex snorted. His mother laughed. Mrs. Finney squeezed Mary Jo’s hand. “I’m sure she’s done a wonderful job with you. You only need to get out into the world a little and practice some more.”

  “That’s what I keep telling Alex.” Mary Jo spoiled her mother’s lessons by sticking her tongue out at her big brother. “That’s why I want to go to Chicago for a visit.”

  Kate had been taking a gander at the surrounding countryside as these pleasantries went on. When she heard Mary Jo’s last comment, she turned and stared at her. “You want to leave this for Chicago?”

  “Oh, yes!”

  “Um . . . Why?” Kate couldn’t conceive of such a thing.

  Alex, chuckling again, made a herding gesture to the gaggle of women. “Let’s discuss this inside over tea, shall we? It will be interesting for you and Mary Jo to exchange ideas about Chicago, Kate. I have a feeling you’re going to have a hard time convincing her that the country’s better than the city.”

  “My goodness,” Kate said, stunned.

  Mrs. English laughed. Alex took Mrs. Finney by the arm and guided her up the porch steps.

  As soon as the quintet entered the house, Kate was struck by several things at once. The first thing she noticed was the overall charm and warmth of the house itself. The front door opened into a large open room that Alex called the hall. The room’s floors were some hard, dark wood, and were sprinkled here and there with rag rugs of the sort Kate’s own mother made. The aroma of cinnamon and ginger kissed Kate’s nostrils, and blended well with the smell of furniture polish and wax. The room was big and warm and friendly, and made Kate want to live in it.

  A woman in a white apron and cap appeared, beaming at the newcomers. Alex said, “Mrs. Gossett, please let me introduce you to Mrs. Finney and Miss Finney. These ladies will be staying with us for the weekend.”

  Mrs. Gossett dropped a curtsy. “Pleased to meet you both.”

  “Likewise,” Kate murmured, wondering who Mrs. Gossett was in the overall scheme of things.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Gossett,” said Mrs. Finney.

  Mrs. Gossett turned to Mrs. English. “There’s tea and gingerbread all ready, Mrs. E. Shall I set it up in the parlor?”

  “Please do,” said Mrs. English. “And tell Louise to see the Finney ladies to their rooms, if you will.”

  Rooms? Did this mean they were each going to have a room? Until she’d taken her one-room flat above the butcher’s shop, Kate had never had a room to herself. Heck, she’d never even realized people had rooms to themselves.

  “Yes’m.”

  After executing another curtsy, Mrs. Gossett departed. Kate marveled at the speed at which another maid servant appeared. She assumed the newcomer to be Louise. Kate suspected this routine had been rehearsed or learned over a number of years, since the timing of the servants’ arrivals and departures was so exquisite. As
suming Mrs. Gossett to be some sort of housekeeper, she then marveled at the English family being able to afford both a housekeeper and a house maid. And a carriage driver. Good Lord Almighty, the man must be positively rolling in dough.

  “Good afternoon, Louise,” said Alex, confirming Kate’s suspicion as he stripped off his gloves and acted as if the arrival of a housemaid was merely a part of life—which it was, to him—“please take Mrs. Finney and Miss Finney to their rooms.”

  Louise bobbed a curtsy, smiled at the Finney ladies, and said, “Please follow me.” She headed for the stairway, which lay straight ahead of them as they stood in front of the big front door.

  Alex said, “Just a minute, Louise.” He turned to Mrs. Finney. “Do you need help climbing the stairs? I’ll be happy to help you. Carry you, if need be.” His smile made Kate’s stomach pitch.

  “Don’t be silly,” said Mrs. Finney. “I wouldn’t want you to have to do that.” She gave a low chortle, as if she’d never heard of anything sillier than Alex’s offer to carry her upstairs.

  “Nonsense,” said Alex. “You can’t weigh much more than a feather. I’m sure I have muscles enough for that.” He winked at Mrs. Finney to let her know he meant it and that she wouldn’t be imposing.

  “You’re a good man, Alex,” Mrs. Finney said, her smile going a little mushy, in Kate’s opinion. “But please don’t carry me. I hate feeling helpless, even if I am sometimes. Please let me walk as much as I can.” She sighed as she gazed at the staircase. “I used to zip up and down stairs like nobody’s business.”

  “I’ll help, Ma,” Kate said, feeling left out.

  “Good. Then I’ll go supervise the gingerbread.” With another wink, Alex left them with the impression that supervision in this instance meant sampling the cake to make sure it was tasty enough for the rest of them.