“I was beginning to fear I wasn’t coming either.” She turned toward the car. “Return for me at nine, Henry.”
James leaned over the window. “But if we’re not here, don’t wait for her.”
“Senator Ferrell, I told you—”
“I know exactly what you said. I hang on your every word.” He took her gloved hand and bowed over it. “Have I told you that you look stunning, Samantha?”
“I find that hard to believe, but I do like the sound of it, so thank you.” She touched the coif she’d allowed her maid to subject her to. At least her hat with its mass of plumes was new and covered most of her silvery hair.
James tapped the door of the Cadillac, and Henry drove away. “It looks like you’re all mine for the evening, Samantha.” He offered her his arm. “Are you ready to go inside?”
“And if I say no?”
“Then I’ll have them bring a table out here so that we can picnic under the stars.”
“You will not make a spectacle of me. I reserve that particular right for myself.” She placed her hand in the crook of his arm. “And you can turn off the charm, James. We’ve known each other far too long for all of that.”
He covered her hand with his own and escorted her into the hotel. “Ah, but you secretly love it.”
She gave him a humph and he laughed. But inside her heart swelled. It had been so long since she’d been treated like a lady. And she did love every word.
Lord, please guard my heart.
Where was Aunt Sam?
Tessa searched the parlor and Aunt Sam’s bedchamber, but to no avail. She’d even questioned the maid, but the girl insisted that Aunt Sam had simply gone out for the evening. What if something was wrong? What if Aunt Sam was being held hostage by some nefarious character? Didn’t the maid realize that her aunt didn’t go places at night without leaving some sort of message?
Message. That was it. Tessa hurried to the writing desk in the study and glanced at the papers on its surface. Aunt Sam was fastidious about keeping a calendar. It had to be here somewhere. She rummaged through one stack and then another. Maybe she should phone Hannah or Charlotte. They’d want to know Aunt Sam was missing.
She pulled open the desk drawers one by one. In the upper left-hand drawer, a leather-bound book caught her eye. Complete with gilt decorations, the calendar had a page for each month of the year. She flipped to today’s date, Friday, May 23, and scanned the page.
Dinner with old friend. 7 p.m., Ryan Hotel
Tessa closed the calendar and put it back in the drawer. She sank into the desk chair and released her breath in a whoosh. At least Aunt Sam was safe.
Questions began to swirl in Tessa’s mind like the waves in the lake earlier today. Who was this old friend? Why hadn’t she written the person’s name down? And most of all, why hadn’t she said anything to Tessa earlier?
Something felt off, and Tessa itched to find out what it was.
Awakening in the library, Tessa stretched her arms above her head. She must have fallen asleep while waiting for Aunt Sam to come home, and the book she was reading, The Emerald City of Oz, had given her the most colorful dreams. Someone, probably the maid, had draped a soft blanket over her.
The grandfather clock in the hall chimed ten times. Surely Aunt Sam had returned by now. She set the blanket aside and hurried into the drawing room, intent on getting some answers.
“Hello, Tessa.” Aunt Sam smiled from her seat on the divan and set down her crochet work. “Did you have a pleasant day?”
“Yes, thank you.” Enough pleasantries. Tessa plopped into a winged chair. “Okay, I’m going to come out and ask this. Where were you tonight?”
“I was out with a friend, and before you ask whom, may I remind you that you too may want me to extend you some degree of privacy.” She pointed to Tessa’s limp hat on the marble-topped table. “Exhibit one.”
Heat crept up Tessa’s neck. She didn’t want to tell anyone, including Aunt Sam, about her budding feelings for Reese. They were still too tender to expose for others to trample on.
“You have a point.” Tessa released a slow sigh. Even though Aunt Sam was right, she really wanted to know who her aunt had been with tonight. “I guess we should each have a right to some secrets.”
“If they aren’t harmful.”
“Can you tell me about where you went?”
Aunt Sam laughed. “Yes. We ate at the Ryan Hotel, and I must take you someday. You’d love the airy dining room. It has decorated columns, stenciled walls, and painted murals that give it a fanciful feeling.”
“And the lights?”
“Bronze and glass chandeliers. Truly lovely.”
“Would Charlotte have approved of the food?”
“I think so.” She picked up her handwork again. “I had chicken croquettes in béchamel sauce, asparagus, and baked mashed potatoes.”
“And for dessert?”
“Lemon sherbet and truffles.”
“Ooh, you’re making me hungry.”
Aunt Sam pointed to a white lace handkerchief on the table. “I snuck a truffle home for you.”
Tessa popped the decadent candy into her mouth and let the chocolate slowly melt on her tongue. She moaned with pleasure. “Thank you for thinking of me.”
“I’m always thinking of you, and praying for you too.”
“What do you pray for when it comes to me?”
“It’s always the same thing. That you’ll be rooted in Christ. There are many things in this world that Satan tries to make us believe will give us the nourishment we need.”
“I’ll need to think about that.” Tessa stood and grinned. “And since I can’t ask you everything I want to, I guess I’ll head to bed. Edward is picking me up at eleven.”
“Edward?” Aunt Sam’s eyes widened.
“You seem surprised.” Did she know Tessa had feelings for someone else?
Aunt Sam pretended to lock her lips. “You have a right to your privacy. Good night, dear.”
Tessa slipped into a cotton nightgown and eased between the crisp sheets. She opened her Bible to the familiar passage in Colossians that Aunt Sam had alluded to. “As ye have therefore received Christ Jesus the Lord, so walk ye in him; rooted and built up in him, and stablished in the faith.”
The word rooted stood out. She’d studied root systems. It was through the roots that the whole plant was fed. If the roots were too shallow, the plant would wither when times of stress came, like drought. But if the roots ran deep, the plant could handle all sorts of hard times.
What was she rooted in? Was it Christ? Just before her parents died, she’d obeyed the gospel. Her own father had baptized her in the lake, but had she let her roots grow deeper? And what did Aunt Sam mean about Satan trying to persuade us to get our nourishment from other places?
Her eyelids drooped and she nearly dropped the Bible. She’d have to ponder all of this later. Right now her dreams were calling.
The Twin City Motordrome? Tessa couldn’t believe Edward’s plans for the day included a trip to the wooden track to watch motorcycles race. Sure, she’d seen the Motordrome on University and Snelling before. How could she miss it? It was smack-dab between Saint Paul and Minneapolis, but she’d never even considered going in.
Well, maybe once or twice.
She read the advertisement posted on the box office promising “a thrill every minute.”
This was her kind of place.
Edward paused at the entrance. “Are you sure this is all right with you? The motorcycles can travel up to ninety miles an hour.”
Tessa smiled. “I’m so excited I’m ready to burst.”
“But I know it’s not the most appropriate place to take a lady. I’m considering making a substantial investment in a company that makes motorcycles. My potential business partner will be racing one of his own machines there today and asked me to attend and watch. He said his wife would be there too, so you can see why I needed a lady to join me, and you’re the o
nly one I know who wouldn’t be scandalized by a motorcycle race.”
She laughed. “I think it’s all very exciting.”
“It would be more exciting to be an investor in a company that makes millions.” They stepped up to the counter, and Edward paid for their tickets. “My friend has hopes of a company that would rival Henry Ford’s.”
“Truly? And you honestly want to be part of making motorcycles? You’re a law student.”
“I am, but this is something that has caught my interest, and it’s more than money. For as long as there have been horses, men and speed have gone hand in hand. Don’t tell my parents, but from my first ride on one, I’ve been hooked.”
Excitement churned in Tessa’s stomach. She’d love to ride on a motorcycle, but maybe she should keep that fact to herself.
She followed Edward inside the Motordrome. They climbed a set of stairs and wound around the walkway along the bottom row of the bleachers. Edward pointed to an empty row. “That’s Mrs. Walker.”
Despite the cacophony coming from the crowded bleachers, Edward managed to introduce Tessa to Mrs. Marjorie Walker, who couldn’t be more than a year or two older than her. Mrs. Walker insisted Tessa call her by her given name.
“I’m glad you came.” Marjorie’s voice rose over the din. “Women are definitely outnumbered here.”
A marching band struck up a chord and made their way to the center of the field. Tessa took the opportunity to study the Twin City Motordrome. On the bottom half of the open area, a steeply banked board track had been constructed. It rose to about ten feet all the way around the oval. How many hours had gone into placing the narrow boards so carefully?
The top half, where she sat, sported rows of bleachers with a sturdy railing separating the spectators from the track. At least she hoped it was sturdy.
Following the third song, the band marched off the field, and the drivers pushed their motorcycles into place for the first of the afternoon’s races.
Edward leaned close to her ear. “That’s my friend Joe Walker on the end—number eight. The two bikes next to him are the ones he needs to beat. Number six is riding an Indian and number seven an Excelsior.”
“What does Mr. Walker call his?”
“The Orbit.” He drew a circle with his hand. “They have to go two times around the track.”
The announcer called for the men to start their engines, and a roar filled the Motordrome. A flag was dropped, and the motorcycles surged forward. Tessa sucked in her breath. What if someone wrecked? Other than a leather helmet and leather chaps, there was little to protect the driver.
As if he’d heard her, a driver in the back lost control, and he and his cycle skidded on the rough wood surface. Tessa squeezed Edward’s arm as a group of men hurried forward. Some carried the man off the track, and others took care of his motorcycle.
Tessa had never seen anything move as fast as the racing cycles. Even a train did not move at speeds of eighty or ninety miles per hour. As they gained speed, the motorcycles climbed high on the wooden track and jockeyed for the front spot. The Indian took the lead with the Excelsior right behind. But Mr. Walker’s Orbit had already managed third.
Mr. Walker raced around the Excelsior. Marjorie grabbed Edward’s arm. “He’s doing it!”
With only half a lap left, the Indian still had the lead. Then Mr. Walker leaned down even closer to his handlebars and surged forward. The two motorcycles rode neck and neck for what seemed like forever. Tessa applauded and Edward whistled, but Marjorie closed her eyes and appeared to be praying.
“He did it!” Edward grabbed Tessa’s waist and lifted her off the ground.
She grabbed her hat to keep it from flying off and cheered along with him. The Orbit seemed to be everything Edward hoped.
Ten races later, Tessa and Edward joined the Walkers for an early supper at Carling’s Café. Even before they ordered, Edward and Joe began to recount the races.
Tessa smiled at the two men. Mr. Walker certainly deserved to be excited. Blood was still drumming through her own veins. What she wouldn’t give to ride on a motorcycle!
More than thirty total riders had competed during the thrilling afternoon, with Mr. Walker participating in a total of three races on his Orbit. In the other races, he placed second and third, alongside the Excelsior and Indian riders.
“I’m telling you, I had men asking me all day about how fast I could produce new cycles.” Joe grabbed Marjorie’s hand. “This is going to work, honey. You’ll see.”
Marjorie beamed at her husband with adoration in her eyes. “I know it will. I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure it does.”
“She worries about money.” He kissed her cheek. “But I’ve promised her I’ll always keep bread on the table. Right, honey?”
Tessa was certain she saw anger flicker in Marjorie’s eyes, but why? Was she not in favor of her husband’s plan?
“As soon as I get the start-up funds, I can start filling orders.” He patted his wife’s hand, then grinned at Edward. “You’re still interested, aren’t you?”
“Wild horses couldn’t keep me away. But my capital alone won’t be sufficient.” Edward glanced at Tessa.
“Don’t look at me.” She laughed. “I don’t have any money.”
Edward’s smile slid away, and his voice grew intense. “But your aunt does.”
“I seriously doubt Aunt Sam will invest in a motorcycle company.”
“But you could persuade her—”
“Edward, you’ve met Aunt Sam. Does she seem like a woman who can be persuaded by anyone, including me?”
“No, I guess not. I suppose I’m getting ahead of myself.” He picked up his menu. “Shall we order?”
Tessa took in Joe’s disappointed face and Marjorie’s searing glare.
Anger simmered inside her. How dare Edward put her in such an awkward position? She’d thought she was returning his favor of helping her by joining him at the race, but now she wasn’t so sure. Had this been Edward’s plan all along? To coerce her into getting Aunt Sam to invest in Joe’s Orbit?
When her food came, she picked at the beef and noodles and managed to swallow a few bites of the dry roll with a great deal of water. Marjorie made no effort at small talk, which was fine. Tessa couldn’t muster much conversation either. The two men didn’t seem to notice. They continued to rattle on about the business.
Tessa caught bits and pieces of their plan. Apparently they’d met at the Motordrome after Edward had come with his motorcycle to race for the first time. He’d been an abysmal failure, but he’d fallen in love with this new sport and, more importantly, the motorcycle itself.
Joe had not only taught him about racing, but he’d taught him about how to maintain and care for his new two-wheeler. When Joe had mentioned the desire to go into business, Edward had encouraged him and promised his support. Edward had offered to put up one-third of the start-up money. Joe had saved one-third already, but they’d not found a third investor for what remained.
“Maybe I could take out a loan for the rest,” Joe offered.
Edward frowned. “And what collateral would you put up? Give me a chance to see what I can do. I’m sure I can think of something”—he glanced at Tessa—“else.”
“What do you mean by that?” Tessa’s fork slipped and banged against the plate. “It is not my fault that you haven’t thought this plan through. Why don’t you ask your father or grandfather to invest? They both have money.”
Joe looked at Marjorie, then they both looked down at their plates.
“Don’t they?”
“Lower your voice,” Edward hissed. “Yes, they have money. But my parents said that if they ever catch me on a motorcycle again, they’ll disinherit me. They do not condone what they refer to as ‘dangerous and base’ behavior.”
“But you still ride?”
“Not where they can see me.”
What were Edward’s parents like? His grandfather, the senator, had seemed amiable enough. W
hile she supposed a lot of messengers and delivery people had taken up the motorcycles, and obviously quite a few risk takers, that hardly made them immoral.
Edward dabbed his lips with the linen napkin. “Because your aunt is so vocal about her thoughts, I thought perhaps she would be more open, but I understand you’re not willing to speak with her. I’m sure that given some time, I’ll find another way.”
“Good.” She leaned back in her chair and folded her hands in her lap. She refused to feel guilty about this.
“But if you were to change your mind—”
“Enough.” She held up her hand and turned to Joe and Marjorie. “I apologize if my decision affects your plans, and I do wish you well in this endeavor. Personally, I find motorcycles to be fascinating, and you appear to know what you’re doing with them. In time, I’m certain you’ll find the right investors. It’s been a pleasure to meet you both, and Mr. Walker, it’s been an even greater pleasure to watch you race.”
She stood and, without a word to Edward, marched away.
17
Reese drew his paintbrush down the length of one of the porch’s balusters, then paused when the screen door banged open. The Henderson brothers, Albert and Clem, strode out.
“Boys,” Mrs. Baxter called from inside. “A minute, please.”
“We’re in a hurry, Mrs. B.” Albert elbowed his brother’s side and chuckled.
Reese dropped the paintbrush in the bucket and stepped into Albert’s path, stopping the two young men. “Gentlemen, I think Mrs. Baxter wants to speak with you.”
Out of breath, the older woman waddled through the door. “Oh good, you’re still here, boys. I’m sure it slipped your mind, but your rent was due on the tenth.”
“Is that so?” Clem glanced at his brother and grinned. “How could we forget to give you our rent?”
“Then, you do have the money?” The wrinkles around her eyes deepened with her smile. “Did you both find employment?”
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