A woman of few words, evidently. Alex, uncertain what to do now, recalled that he hadn’t conveyed Kate’s message, so he leapt to do so. “Kate will be back to work tomorrow, Madame. She wanted to come back today, but, as I said, we remained in the country for another day.”
“Ah.”
The woman seemed completely untroubled by silences in conversations. At least she appeared less nervous about the silences in this particular conversation than Alex was. She just sat there looking at him. He shuffled his feet, wondering how a foreign woman in so dubious a profession as fortune telling could have the capacity to make him, a well-to-do young man of the world and a sterling citizen, nervous.
Fiddlesticks. Alex had removed his hat when he entered the booth. Now he plopped it on again with a dashing flair and grinned at Madame. “Well, now that I’ve delivered a message to you, I need to tell the Egyptians that Kate won’t be dancing tonight. My sister has come to Chicago to see the fair, and Kate and I plan to show her around this evening.”
Madame nodded. “Ah.” Her eyes narrowed. She pointed at Alex. He suppressed an itch to press a palm over the area of his chest at which her fingernail pointed. “You bring your sister here. I tell her what’s what.”
Alex felt his eyebrows lift. “You will?”
Another nod. “Yes.”
“Ah . . . Why, certainly. I’m sure Mary Jo would think that was fun.”
One of Madame’s black eyebrows rose above one of her black eyes. It looked to Alex as if she considered his choice of words inapt.
But that was nonsensical. She was only a fake Gypsy fortune-teller. What did he care what she thought? With that happy notion, Alex touched his hand to his hat in a gesture of farewell, bowed slightly, grinned, and said, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Madame, when I escort Kate back to work.”
Her eyebrow didn’t lower, and she still looked as if she considered Alex something of a figure of fun, but at least she smiled at him as he took his leave. Alex felt uncomfortable for only a couple of seconds after he left her booth. As he aimed himself at the Egyptian Pavilion, his spirits resumed their buoyancy, and he was soon whistling.
Daisy, Daisy, Give me your answer, do. I’m half crazy, all for the love of you. We won’t have a fancy marriage . . . Alex, unlike the gentleman in the song, could afford to spring for all the luxuries Kate wanted for their own marriage ceremony. He thought she’d look sweet in an ivory gown. With a long train. . . . but you’ll look sweet upon the seat of a bicycle built for two.
She had looked sweet. She’d looked adorable, with her hair flying in the wind, and her skirts blowing up around her knees and her sober walking shoes pumping the pedals of that ridiculous bicycle. Alex wondered if Kate would consider taking a bicycle tour of England. Bicycling was all the rage these days, and he knew that the Cook’s people advertised bicycling tours in all sorts of European countries.
Perhaps Kate would like to see Italy. Now there was an idea with merit. After all, she’d started out in life as a Roman Catholic, even though Alex had his doubts about her acceptance of most Catholic doctrine, which was just as well, given he’d been reared in the Presbyterian church and didn’t cotton to Popery.
In fact—why should he scrimp on a wedding trip? After all, a man only wed once in his lifetime if he was lucky—why couldn’t they travel the world ‘round? Now that would be a trip to remember.
Katie, Katie, give me your answer, do. We will travel from England to Istanboo. Alex’s newly revealed streak of nonsense made him laugh.
“My God, Alex, I never thought to see you laughing at nothing!”
So involved had Alex been in his own happy thoughts that he didn’t notice Gilbert MacIntosh approaching with his pretty wife on his arm. Alex’s train of thought snapped in two, and he smiled broadly at the newlyweds. “Gil! And Mrs. MacIntosh! What a pleasure to see the two of you!” He pumped Gil’s hand with a vigor that seemed to take his friend by surprise.
“My Lord, Alex, what’s got into you? You look as if you’ve just won a million dollars in a sweepstakes.” But Gil grinned from ear to ear, which was a distinct improvement over the grim expression Alex had left him with the last time they’d spoken.
“Better than a sweepstakes, Gil, old boy. Much better than that. I’ve got to thank you, by the way, for making me see Kate Finney before throwing her out of the fair.”
“Kate Finney? Who’s . . . Oh, the fortune teller?” Gil appeared puzzled, which wasn’t hard to understand. “You’re quite welcome, but . . . Well, why?”
“Mr. English,” Mrs. MacIntosh said with a sly smile. “Are you trying to tell my husband something?”
It was on the tip of Alex’s tongue to reveal his marital plans, but suddenly Madame Esmeralda’s ironical expression seemed to rear up in front of him, and he didn’t. Instead, he said, “Yes, indeed, Mrs. MacIntosh. I’m trying to tell him that he averted a nearly fatal tendency in my character. And I appreciate it.”
“I must say, you do seem a trifle less rigid, old man.” Gil grinned at Alex. “A lot less rigid, actually.”
“I am! I am!” Alex bowed to the couple again. “But I have an errand to run, and have to get it done. Such a pleasure seeing you both.” Again, he was on the verge of telling the two that he’d see them at his wedding, but he held his tongue. Dash it, Madame Esmeralda was enough to spook a man.
His step was jaunty when he reached the Egyptian Pavilion, however, and he managed to convey his message about Kate’s absence with a minimum of fumbling, considering he didn’t speak Arabic, and the members of the Egyptian community he bumped in to didn’t speak much English.
When he’d completed his errand, he went back to the Congress, checked on his sister, found her in a fidget to get going, told her to hold her horses, went to his own room, washed, changed clothes, and returned to his sister’s room.
“I want to go with you!” Mary Jo cried indignantly when Alex explained to her that he was setting out to fetch Kate and would return to get Mary Jo so that they could dine at the hotel.
“You might want to go, but you’re not going,” he said in his stern-big-brother voice. “You still have to change into something appropriate for dining at the hotel and then cavorting at the fair. It’s going to be a long evening, sister mine, and I won’t have you spoiling it by whining about too-tight shoes or a corset that’s stabbing you in the ribs.”
“Alex!” But Mary Beth giggled.
He left her with a jaunty salute and whistled in the carriage all the way to Kate’s place. As it always did, his mood slid downhill as he approached the vile alleyways of Kate’s neighborhood. But he didn’t stay there long since Kate, unlike his beloved sister, didn’t believe in making people wait for her. She was standing at the curb when the coach drew up. Alex frowned to see her thus, wishing she’d stay indoors and let him walk up that dark and dingy staircase and protect her on the way down.
With a laugh, he told himself to stop dreaming. If she were the type of woman to do that, she wouldn’t be Kate. And he loved Kate. If a man loved a woman, it seemed a silly conceit for him to want to change her into something else.
She looked tired. She also looked distracted and unhappy. But Alex told himself that even if he’d begun thinking up silly lyrics to songs, he shouldn’t allow himself to go overboard in creating moods for people. She was probably only a little worried about her mother. Alex had made arrangements for quick notification should anything happen to Mrs. Finney.
Because he wanted to show Kate only the best of everything, since until now she’d been exposed only to the worst of everything, he greet her heartily. “Kate, my darling! You’re looking fine this evening.” It wasn’t much of a lie.
With a smile that seemed a trifle wan, she acknowledged his robust greeting. “You’re looking pretty swell yourself, Alex. You sure do have a fine wardrobe.”
He eyed her warily. “Are you being sarcastic, my sweet?” Still, he smiled.
She looked genuinely shocked. “Good Lord, no! I me
an it, Alex. You always dress like the cat’s meow. I wish my brothers could wear such fine clothes. You know what they say. Clothes make the man.” His smile tilted, and she fairly tripped over herself to add, “Not that it’s true in your case. You’re a saint on earth. But you look nice, too. That’s a bonus.”
Her grin appeared as genuine as her shock had, so Alex relented. “I suppose I should thank you.”
“It’s a compliment. Trust me.”
He took her hand and placed it on his arm so that he could cover it with his other hand. “After we’re married, I’m going to take your brother Bill under my wing, my love. He’s got a good head on his shoulders, and was on the right track with his investments. I’m sure he’s going to make a mint if he took my hint about investing in the various Exposition ventures. Then he’ll be able to buy his own fancy duds.”
“But that’s just it. You don’t wear fancy duds. You always look absolutely elegant and never flashy.”
Since she was serious, Alex didn’t laugh. Instead, he spoke in a chastened tone as he guided her into the waiting carriage. “Ah. I see. Well, then, perhaps I can advise him about the intricacies of securing a good tailor.”
Watching him enter the carriage with a suspicious eye, Kate demanded, “Are you laughing at me, Alex English? Because if you are—”
He held his hands up in a please-don’t-shoot-me gesture. “No. Never. I’m not laughing at you and never will. Cross my heart.” To prove it, he did exactly that. “But tell me, Kate, is your older brother as bright as Bill?”
“Oh, yes.” She sighed and sank back against the well-padded cushions. “He’s probably the smartest one of the three of us. He’s working hard to better himself, too.”
“Ah.” He’d like to know, but didn’t dare ask, if either of her brothers showed any tendency toward succumbing to their fathers’ weakness. He’d find out eventually. He only hoped he’d have the patience to cope if either one of them turned into a miserable drunkard. He had a feeling his darling Kate wouldn’t disown her kin without a good deal of misery first. He wanted his Kate to be spared further misery in this life, and aimed to see to it if he could. Her family was something over which he had little, if any, control, unfortunately.
Because it was true and it troubled Alex, he said, “You look tired, Kate.”
She sighed again. “I am. I found Billy and told him that Ma’s staying in the country for a little while. He . . .” The word drifted out, as if it had expired of its on accord.
“Was he angry?” Alex hoped the lad had better sense than to be angry, but family relationships were touchy things, and Bill might consider that Alex had usurped some of his own privileges regarding Mrs. Finney.
Again Kate appeared surprised. “Angry? Good heavens, no. Why would he be angry?”
Alex shrugged, having no verbal answer handy. At least, he didn’t have one that wouldn’t rile Kate.
“No. He was grateful. But he’s afraid he’ll never see Ma alive again.” She gazed out the window as if to gather her thoughts together.
Since he still didn’t know what to say, sensing that to agree with Bill might be too brutal, he remained silent. He did reach over and pat Kate’s knee to let her know that he loved her and was on her side.
She turned and peer at him again. “He’s going to tell Walter. They live in the same boarding house.” Fingering the small beaded bag in her lap, Kate was quiet a moment and then said, “Can they both go see her over the weekend, Alex? Billy’s sure they can both get the time off.”
Alex was so startled by the question and the tentative, fearful way in which it was asked, he spoke too loud. “Of course! Good Gad, Kate, I’m not trying to keep your mother from you or your brothers. I’m trying to make her last days as comfortable as they can be.” He tried hard not to be offended.
“I know it, Alex. But don’t forget that Billy’s only met you once. And Walter’s never met you at all. It’s not so difficult to understand their feelings, is it?”
“I guess not.” He didn’t like it, though. “Will you be going to the farm with them?”
“I . . .” She swallowed.
Alex couldn’t figure out why she appeared so uncomfortable. After all, they were engaged to be married and she was going to quit both of her jobs as soon as she could, so there should be no problem in getting time free to visit the farm.
After a moment, she said, “Yeah. Sure. I’ll go with them.”
She turned her head and stared out the window, and Alex could have sworn she was about to cry. Women. He’d never understand women if he lived to be three hundred years old.
They had fun that afternoon and evening, though. After Mary Jo joined them and they retired to the dining salon, Kate seemed to perk up. She and Mary Jo enjoyed each other, although Alex couldn’t understand why. Kate was so wise about the world and its problems, and Mary Jo was so naive and so unaware of her total ignorance, he’d have expected Kate to react with contempt to his sister’s idiotic pronouncements, all rendered with the air of one habituated to the world’s tragedies. Little did Mary Jo know.
Kate, however, was unfailingly kind to the pestiferous child.
“Um,” she said after one such statement about the fumbling nature of the serving staff, “I think you need to give the waiters a break, Mary Jo. They’re working awfully hard to earn their keep. Besides,” she added with a wink, “if you’re not nice to them, there’s no telling what they might do to your food behind your back.”
Mary Jo’s eyes grew huge and her mouth fell open, and Kate burst out laughing. So did Alex. He loved the way Kate handled people, even silly, ignorant people like Mary Jo. She didn’t use her beat-’em-up pose with Mary Jo, knowing that the girl was still only a child and could be forgiven—usually—for her blindness regarding the world’s cruelty. Rather, she used a teasing tone that couldn’t possibly offend its recipient.
“Merciful heavens!” Mary Jo cried. “Whatever do you mean?”
Kate grinned like a fiend. “Shoot, Mary Jo, when you have no social power, you take your revenge any way you can. I have a friend who waits tables at a chop house near the dock. When the sailors are rude to her—and they’re rude a lot, being sailors, you know—she’ll spit in their beer. It doesn’t do the sailors any harm, but it makes her feel better.”
“Ew.”
Alex laughed until his eyes watered.
Mary Jo’s feet scarcely touched the ground when he paid her way into the Exposition. He and Kate exchanged a glance. Kate was amused. Alex was resigned.
Kate smacked him lightly on the arm. “This may be old news to you, Alex, but it’s the first time Mary Jo’s seen it.”
“I know it. I’m prepared.” He sighed dramatically. Since Kate already had her little hand on his arm, he shoved his hands into his pockets, hunched his shoulders, and tried his best to look like a man sorely abused. Since his heart was almost as light as Mary Jo’s, he wasn’t sure how effective his pose was, but Kate laughed, so that was all right.
After Mary Jo had ooh’d and ahh’d her way through the White City and seen the Grand Basin and they’d listened to John Philip Sousa direct his band in one of his more stirring marches, Alex led them to the building that housed historical treasures of Chicago. They all stared with varying degrees of sadness at the photographs taken during and after the great fire that had razed the city in 1879.
“My goodness,” breathed Alex’s sister. “What a terrible thing.”
“Sure was,” agreed Kate. She hadn’t removed her hand from Alex’s arm, bless her, and Alex realized he’d started to feel about ten feet tall. “I don’t remember much about it, although I can remember some, mainly being really afraid.”
When she turned to stare at Kate, Mary Jo’s eyes had gone huge again. Alex realized that his sister might be a pretty woman one day—if she managed to grow up before somebody killed her in a fit of pique fostered as a reaction to her irritable qualities before then. “You mean, you lived through it?”
K
ate grinned at Mary Jo. “Well, sure. I guess so. I’m here, aren’t I? I guess that means I lived through it.”
Mary Jo blinked, realizing her question had been thoughtless. “Well . . . I mean, I didn’t know you lived here then.”
“Sure. I’ve lived in Chicago my whole life.”
“Oh.”
Alex pinched his sister’s cheek. “You’re a goose, Mary Jo. You know that, don’t you?”
She flushed, her attention having shifted back to the photographic display. Even Alex had to admit the photographs depicted a terrible event in the life of Chicago and its citizens. The fire had killed hundreds and leveled square blocks of buildings. It had been a ghastly tragedy and was certainly nothing to laugh about. Nevertheless, Kate laughed. He wondered if she laughed because otherwise she’d be crying.
“Don’t pay any attention to your brother,” she advised. “And consider yourself lucky that you live on that beautiful, peaceful farm. This city’s a terrible place to live, even when it’s not on fire.”
“Really?”
Alex wondered if Mary Jo’s eyebrows would stick in an upraised position. Ever since they’d set out this evening, she seemed to be in a perpetual state of awe.
“Really.” Kate’s brow furrowed as she thought for a second, then she said, “Well, I guess if you have lots of money, it’s not so bad. There are some grand houses by the lake that must be nice to live in. Or even work in,” she added judiciously. “Heck, if a house servant could make as much money as a dancer, I’d rather be doing that.”
“Really?” Mary Jo said again.
“Really.” Kate turned a wry glance upon Alex’s sister. “Being poor isn’t much fun, Mary Jo. Even if you’ve got a regular job, nobody pays women as much as they pay men.”
“They would if the women were doing the same job, wouldn’t they?” Mary Jo thought she had a point.
Kate immediately set her straight. “Don’t kid yourself. I know lots of women who do the same jobs men do—and better, too—and they get paid less than half of what a man makes.” She shot Alex a peek from the corner of her eye, daring him to contradict her. Kate knew her ground here. She had experience.
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