by Jen Turano
His family had always treated him with the utmost care, as if because of his accident as a youth and then because of his unusual intellect, he needed to be sheltered from the nuances of everyday life.
Unfortunately, he’d taken their care for granted, had never even voiced an appreciation for that care, and over the years, he’d undoubtedly turned into a most self-centered gentleman.
It was an uncomfortable truth, but now that he’d become aware of it, he was going to have to remedy matters and with all due haste.
Family, he was beginning to realize, as well as friends such as Theo, was far more important than any invention or scientific discovery. Friends and family made life enjoyable, a notion he’d only begun considering after becoming acquainted with Beatrix. She was a lady who enjoyed life to the fullest and embraced the experiences life offered.
“What do you think he’s doing?” Norman heard Oscar ask. “He’s gone all glassy-eyed.”
“He does that all the time when he’s figuring out a mathematical equation. No need for concern.”
“I’m not figuring out a mathematical equation,” Norman said right as the barber returned with a different pair of scissors in his hand.
“Then what were you thinking about?” Gemma pressed.
“I was thinking about Alice being in Paris and me not realizing that. However, speaking of my world-traveling sister, I believe she gave me an identical vase to the one you broke.”
Gemma’s little face lit up. “She did?”
“Indeed, and because my vase is collecting dust in my closet, I’d be happy to give it to you, but only after you tell Constance what happened to her vase.”
In the blink of an eye, Gemma was by his side, surprising him when she threw her thin arms around him and gave him a hug, holding on for a good few seconds.
“Thank you, Uncle Norman. I won’t forget this,” Gemma said, stepping back.
“You’re welcome, and with that settled, how about you rejoin Oscar so my barber can get on with seeing after my hair?”
“Looks to me as if your hair hasn’t been seen after for months,” the barber, Mr. Farley, said, snapping open a cape that he drew around Norman as Gemma scampered away. “What would you like me to do with this today?”
Norman dug into his pocket, pulling out a folded-up advertisement Theo had ripped out of a Harper’s Bazaar fashion magazine. He handed it to Mr. Farley. “I’ve decided I’d like to look like this man.”
The barber glanced at the page. “You’re certain you want such a dramatic change? This gentleman’s hair is cut remarkably short.”
Norman nodded. “According to research I’ve been doing with a friend of mine, ladies are said to be partial to shorter hair on gentlemen these days.”
“Ah, so you’ve got a certain young lady in your sights and want to impress her, do you?”
“At this point, I’m only hoping that she doesn’t get annoyed with me so often.”
“Tricky business there,” Mr. Farley said as he began sprinkling a great deal of water over Norman’s head.
It took Mr. Farley forty-five minutes to cut and shape Norman’s hair, during which Gemma and Oscar kept wandering up to join him, both children voicing their opinions on the progress Mr. Farley was making. After taking a final snip of Norman’s hair, Mr. Farley stepped back and nodded to the children.
“What do you think?”
Gemma’s nose wrinkled as she considered Norman. “You don’t look like my uncle Norman anymore.”
“Who do I look like, then?”
“You look like a man of business,” Oscar said when Gemma seemed to be at a loss for an answer.
“Do I really?” Norman asked as Mr. Farley handed him a mirror and then told him he’d be back directly to brush away all the stray bits of hair from Norman’s neck as well as to shave him.
“I don’t know what everyone is going to make of this new you,” Gemma said slowly as Norman held up the mirror, blinking at his reflection.
Gone was the dark, untidy hair that was always hampering his view, replaced with a style that looked exactly like the advertisement he’d given to Mr. Farley. “He must really want to impress a girl,” Oscar declared loudly, drawing the attention of every gentlemen getting a cut or a shave in the barber shop, all of whom then sent him knowing looks.
“Who is she?” Gemma asked, stepping closer to Norman.
Finding it more than peculiar that he was now being interrogated by an eight-year-old, Norman was spared a response when Mr. Farley returned, shooing the children back to the bench so he could attend to shaving Norman.
Two hours later, and after Norman treated Gemma and Oscar to an early lunch at one of the restaurants in the Palmer House Hotel, he stepped out of the hansom cab he’d rented and onto Prairie Avenue, turning to help Gemma to the ground while Oscar jumped out on his own.
“When are we going to get the parts for the peddle-boat?” Gemma asked, surprising him when she took hold of his hand as they walked toward his mother’s house.
“I’ll see to getting all the parts tomorrow because I’m meeting up with Theo today to do some shopping.”
Gemma gave their entwined hands a swing. “I never knew you and Theo enjoyed shopping.”
“It’s a recent development, but I won’t be shopping tomorrow, so if your tutor is still under the weather, you and Oscar may return here tomorrow afternoon after I’ve had an opportunity to get all the parts needed for your boat.”
“We’re going to help you build it?”
“It’s your boat, Gemma, so yes, you should help build it.”
“How much do you think those parts are going to cost me?”
“You’re eight. That’s hardly old enough to worry about paying for parts. I’m buying everything.”
Gemma gave another swing of their hands. “You’ve never bought me anything before.”
“I suppose I haven’t, so I’d best put some effort into making up for that unacceptable lapse.”
“Mother’s been afraid there’s something wrong with you, and I think she may be right. You’re acting odder than usual.”
“Would you feel better if I allowed you to pay for the parts?”
Gemma grinned. “Not at all because you see . . .” She glanced over her shoulder to look at Oscar, who’d stopped a few paces behind them to tie his shoe. Turning back to Norman, she lowered her voice. “Oscar’s birthday is next month. I want to get him some chemicals to add to his chemistry set.”
“That’s a very thoughtful gesture, Gemma. He’s lucky he has you for a friend.”
Gemma shook her head. “I’m luckier, Uncle Norman. Oscar is always there for me, no matter what outlandish plan I might want to try out. Not everyone has such a good friend, so I want to give him something special for his birthday.” She smiled. “He’s like your Theo.”
A sliver of guilt slid through Norman because he didn’t know when Theo’s birthday was, which meant he’d certainly never presented her with anything special on her birthday.
Clearly he had more restitutions to make with his friend and his family than he’d realized.
“I think she might be here,” Gemma said, pointing to Theo’s pony, Rosie, who was hitched to the hitching post. “Will she be at Grandmother’s house, or will she be in your workshop?”
Because Theo had thrown herself into their current experiment, the one that would hopefully see Beatrix less annoyed with him, Norman knew she was not in his workshop, but in his apartment above his workshop. She’d undertaken the daunting task of sifting through all the clothing that he’d had no idea his mother had purchased for him over the years, that clothing having been stored in an enormous closet in her attic.
It had taken Norman and Theo an entire afternoon to lug everything from the attic to his apartment—conveniently on an afternoon when his mother had been out of the house—which had allowed Norman the luxury of moving his unexpected wardrobe without being barraged with questions.
“I imagine she�
��s up in my apartment, trying to organize my clothes for me.”
“Why would she want to do that?”
Thankfully, Norman was spared an explanation when Oscar ran up to join them.
“Can we take your electrical conveyance vehicle for a drive today?” Oscar asked.
Norman nodded. “Of course. I charged up the battery two days ago, but since I have yet to figure out how to keep it charged for any length of time, I doubt the two of you will get past that tree again.”
After helping Gemma and Oscar get the vehicle started, Norman watched them drive slowly away before he strode through his workshop, his gaze glancing over the new electric engine he’d all but abandoned ever since he and Theo had taken up their latest and most highly unusual experiment.
That he felt not a single urge to step over to the engine should have been concerning, but he had more important matters to attend to, the most important of which was changing his clothing and getting on his way with Theo to pay a visit to Beatrix at Marshall Field & Company.
Taking the steps that led to his apartment on the second floor of the carriage house, Norman walked into the room that served as his sitting room, coming to an abrupt stop when the first thing that met his gaze was his sister Constance standing with her hands on her hips as she surveyed mounds and mounds of clothing strewn everywhere. Theo was on the other side of the room, flipping through a fashion magazine as she held a gentleman’s jacket that he’d recently learned was a single-breasted, four-buttoned, sack suit, done up in a pattern called the corkscrew—information he never thought he’d need to know but now was never going to forget.
“Constance,” he finally said. “What are you doing here?”
Constance turned, but instead of responding, she regarded him with wide eyes and then abruptly took a seat directly on top of a pile of men’s trousers.
“What have you done to yourself? I can see your face.”
Norman took a step into the room. “I paid a visit to a barber.”
“He cut off all your hair.”
“Well, not all of it, but, you see, that’s what barbers are supposed to do—cut a gentleman’s hair.”
“But you look quite unlike your normal self.”
“That’s what Gemma and Oscar thought as well. They’ve decided I look like a businessman.”
Constance glanced behind him, her eyes going from wide to narrowed in a split second. “Where are Gemma and Oscar? Don’t tell me you forgot you had them with you and left them downtown.”
“They’re taking a spin in my electrical conveyance vehicle, and honestly, Constance, I was hardly going to forget I had them with me. But again, what are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to be at a meeting all afternoon.”
Constance shrugged. “I decided to leave the meeting early because the discussion was turning heated, what with how the ladies can’t seem to agree where the Chicago Public Library should be moved.”
“Theo and I were just at the library, and it didn’t seem as if it needed moving. The upper floor of City Hall provides a more-than-ample space.”
“Chicago deserves a library that is only a library,” Constance argued. “But tell me this, were you and Theo at the library searching for more electrical research papers . . . or were you there searching for articles related to fashion, a subject I never thought either of you would take an interest in?”
Norman shot a look to Theo, who sent him a look in return that clearly said she wasn’t going to become involved in this particular conversation, leaving him to believe Constance had already taken it upon herself to question Theo endlessly about why there were fashion magazines strewn about, along with piles and piles of clothing.
“Uncle Norman!” Gemma exclaimed, bursting in the room, Oscar nowhere in sight. “The engine died again, and we didn’t even make it to the tree this time.”
Norman frowned. “Troubling to be sure and suggests I might have come to a standstill with my theory on double currents, but where’s Oscar?”
“He’s pushing the electrical conveyance vehicle back to the workshop.”
Gemma looked around, frowning at the mess, before her gaze settled on Constance. She practically skipped to her mother’s side, dodging shoes, hats, and walking sticks. “I didn’t see you there for a second, Mother.”
Constance smiled. “Did you have a nice time with Uncle Norman?”
“We did. We watched him get his hair shorn off and then he took us to lunch at one of the fancy restaurants in the Palmer House.”
Constance turned to Norman. “I’m still confused why you got your hair cut in that particular style.”
“It’s because of a girl,” Gemma said before Norman could answer.
Constance’s eyes began to gleam. “I knew it. There is a girl. Who is she?”
Norman settled for a shrug, which had Constance turning to Gemma. “Who is she?”
Gemma frowned. “I’m eight, Mother. It’s not as if Uncle Norman is going to confide all the details to me.”
Constance shot a look to Norman before she nodded to Gemma. “I need to have a bit of a chat with Uncle Norman, dear. What say you go find Oscar and then the two of you can go up to Grandmother’s house? She’s setting out a lovely tea for you and Oscar to enjoy with another new doll she’s purchased for you.”
“I think Oscar and I would rather stay here,” Gemma said, gesturing around. “Uncle Norman could use some help getting his room tidy, and Oscar and I wouldn’t mind helping him, not when he’s agreed to help us make a real peddle-boat.”
Constance glanced to Norman again. “You’ve agreed to help them build a peddle-boat?”
“He’s already drawn up the plans for it, Mother, and he let me and Oscar make a supply list for him while he was getting his haircut.”
Constance narrowed her eyes on Norman even as she gave an airy wave in Gemma’s direction. “Grandmother’s waiting, dear. You’d best get on your way.”
Gemma immediately took to looking stubborn, clearly unwilling to head off to see her grandmother. She glanced to Norman, her lips curving just a little before she returned her attention to her mother. “I can’t go yet because I promised Uncle Norman I’d fess up to something I’ve done.”
Constance frowned. “You must really not want to have tea with Grandmother and a new doll if you’re willingly confessing to something.”
“Or maybe I’m wracked with guilt with what I’ve done and know I’ll feel much better after I get it off my chest.”
“Does Gemma always sound like she’s thirty instead of eight?” Theo asked, looking up from her fashion magazine.
“Afraid so,” Constance said before she nodded at Gemma. “Very well. Out with it. What have you done now?”
It took Gemma less than a minute to confess, ending with, “Me and Oscar tried to put the vase back together, but that didn’t work very well. But it turns out Uncle Norman is willing to give you the same vase that Aunt Alice gave him, so I’m hopeful you won’t be too cross with me.”
Constance laid a hand on Gemma’s shoulder. “I’m not cross with you, Gemma, because I know you didn’t mean to break my vase. Although I will expect you to fess up sooner the next time one of your inventions goes awry.”
“I will, I promise.”
As Constance gave Gemma a hug, Norman strode as best he could through the sitting room and into his bedchamber. Darting into his closet, he retrieved the vase Alice had given him, dusted it off on his jacket, then returned to the sitting room, handing the vase to his sister, surprised when she sent him a frown.
“This is a very expensive vase, Norman, and one a future wife of yours may enjoy, or perhaps that girl Gemma mentioned earlier.”
“Beatrix isn’t a girl, she’s a lady, and—” He stopped talking and winced as Constance immediately took to looking like the cat who’d spotted a nice dish of cream.
“Gemma,” Constance said rather absently. “Time for you to see Grandmother.”
“But it’s just getti
ng interesting.”
“Gemma . . .”
Gemma’s little shoulders sagged. “Oh, very well. But I do hope someone will see fit to fill me in on what Uncle Norman says. I’d like to know if I’m going to get a new aunt sometime soon.” With that, she turned on a small heel and stomped out of the sitting room, her stomps continuing as she made her way down the steps.
The second the door to his workshop banged shut, Constance rounded on Norman. “Who is Beatrix?”
Norman pulled out his pocket watch. “While I would love nothing more than to divulge all the pesky details I’m sure you want to know about Beatrix, I’m running out of time. Theo and I have an engagement planned for this afternoon, one that is long overdue since it took us longer than expected to go through some very interesting research, and—”
“Sit,” Constance interrupted, pointing a dainty finger at a chair that was overflowing with jackets.
“I don’t think she’s going to let you out of here until you tell her about Beatrix,” Theo said, setting aside the fashion magazine she’d been clutching and stepping forward.
His eyes widened when he got his first good look at her.
Theo had never been one to concern herself with fashion, but apparently she’d been taking to heart some of the articles they’d been sharing of late because she was wearing what looked to be a walking dress, but it was one he’d never seen before and looked as if it might have been pulled out of an old trunk, given that the blue it had once been had almost faded to gray. More curious than the color, though, were the flowers she’d attached to the dress, ones that had apparently been fresh flowers when she’d attached them to the fabric but were now wilted.
“It would appear Norman’s not keen to answer my question, Theodosia,” Constance said. “Which means I’m going to need you to tell me all about this Beatrix.”
“I wouldn’t want to deprive him of the pleasure of explaining Beatrix to you.”
Norman pulled his attention away from what seemed to be a large dollop of glue running from one of the flowers and nodded to his sister. “Because I’m sure you’re going to begin badgering Theo about the matter, and because I know she isn’t comfortable with that kind of direct questioning, what do you want to know about Beatrix?”