Bicycle Built for Two (26 page)

After shooting him a suspicious glance,
which he deflected with a raise of his eyebrows and an
I’m-not-being-condescending-dash-it shrug of his shoulders, she
said, “To tell you the truth, I’m not sure. She said she—” Kate
stopped speaking abruptly. “Thank you,” she said when Mrs. English
handed her a cup of tea.

“She said what?” Alex asked, holding the
plate of sandwiches and cakes out to her so that she could take her
pick. “I’m only curious,” he added, knowing how defensive Kate
could get without half trying. “I won’t hold anything Madame
Esmeralda said to you against you.” He laughed to let her know he
meant it and that he considered this all in fun.

Kate shrugged and took a small sandwich.
“She said she’d put a curse on my father.”

“Good heavens!” Mrs. Finney stared at her
daughter, her cup halfway to her lips. “Did she really?”

“I’m afraid so. Sorry, Ma.” Kate took a bite
of her sandwich, looking uncomfortable.

But Mrs. Finney, replacing her cup in her
saucer before she’d taken any tea, leaned back against the sofa and
laughed so hard, she started coughing. After taking a swig from her
flask, she gasped for air and apologized. “Oh, my, I’m so sorry.
But, Katie, darling, that’s the nicest thing Madame could ever do
for any of us.” She wiped her eyes with a handkerchief snatched
from a pocket. “Oh, my. I must be a terrible person to find such a
thing amusing.”

“Nuts,” said Kate. “You’re right. I hope the
curse works. And soon.”

“I have to agree with your daughter, Mrs.
Finney. If you still have feelings for the man, I’m sorry, but I
think he deserves a good curse, at least.”

“Alex,” murmured his mother, “I’m sure I
don’t know what to think of you.” She smiled, though. “I tried to
teach my children manners, Mrs. Finney, but you can see how much
they learned.”

“Oh, no, Mrs. English,” Mrs. Finney
protested. “Your children are wonderful. You must be so proud of
Alex.”

“I am.”

Alex turned his eyes up and gazed at the
ceiling, praying this part of the conversation would end soon.

Mary Jo said, “I didn’t say anything about
any old curse. I have manners.” She grinned. “But I’d love to know
how she did it.”

The tea break progressed smoothly and with
much good humor. Alex was proud of his mother and even of his
little sister, who could sometimes be a trifle difficult due to her
age. He dreaded the notion of Mary Jo getting Kate off by herself,
because he didn’t trust either one of them. Mary Jo could be
offensive without even knowing it, and Kate could become offended
even when no offense was meant.

When it became clear that Mrs. Finney’s
strength was waning, Alex signaled to his mother to do something to
end the tea party. As ever, his mother rose to the occasion.
“Hazel—” They were all on a first-name basis by this time. “—Let me
show you around the house a little, and then I think you ought to
rest for as long as you need to. It’s been a long, tiring trip for
you, I’m sure.”

“Thank you.” Mrs. Finney’s pinched features
appeared more relaxed than Alex had heretofore seen them. “I do
need to rest a good deal. But the trip wasn’t difficult at all,
thanks to your son and his generous attentions.” She smiled at
Alex. “You have a such a kind and generous son, Marguerite.”

“I think so,” said Alex’s fond mother.

Alex hoped to heaven the heat he felt
creeping up his neck wouldn’t be noticeable in his cheeks. He was
too dashed old to blush.

“I can see Ma upstairs,” Kate said.

Everyone turned to look at her, and she
dropped her gaze. “Unless you don’t want me to,” she muttered.

“Why don’t I show you the
grounds, Kate,” Alex suggested, feeling both protective and
appreciative. Her defensiveness had spared him embarrassment in
case he
had
been
blushing, since nobody was looking at him any longer.

“Oh, yes!” Mary Jo cried. “I’ll go with
you!”

Bother
, thought Mary Jo’s affectionate brother. He didn’t want her
along; he wanted to be alone with Kate. Yet he couldn’t think of an
appropriate way to rid himself of his pesky sister without making
an embarrassing scene. “Fine.”

Kate glanced from him to Mary Jo to her
mother. “Is that all right with you, Ma? Do you need me?”

“I’ll always need you, Katie, but I think I
can make it back upstairs with Marguerite’s help.” The smiling
glance she gave her daughter was as full of love as any Alex had
ever seen. “You go along with Alex and Mary Jo and enjoy
yourself.”

Thus it was that Kate, Alex, and Mary Jo,
leaving the tea things behind on the table for Mrs. Gossett and
Louise to dispense with even though Kate had offered to help and
then seemed self-conscious that she had, left the house that
afternoon. Alex discovered himself eager to introduce Kate to his
world. He also discovered himself hoping she’d love it as much as
he did, which didn’t make sense to him. What did it matter to him
if she liked his farm or not? Fearing he knew the answer and that
he didn’t want it to be true, he dropped the subject before it
could cause him discomfort.

Mary Jo skipped along merrily, sometimes at
Kate’s side, sometimes at Alex’s, and sometimes ahead of them both.
“This is the prettiest time of year,” she informed Kate. “Except
for the fall, because the leaves are so pretty then. Although
winter’s kind of nice, too, because the snow is so pretty and
white. And I like summer, too, except when it gets too hot.”

Laughing, Alex said, “Sounds like you can’t
make up your mind.”

“I guess I can’t.”

“I think it’s good that you can enjoy it
all,” Kate said, sounding as if she meant it.

Alex glanced down at her and wondered when
was the last time she’d been able to relax and enjoy anything.

He was becoming perfectly maudlin about this
woman. He gave himself a hard mental shake and told himself to snap
out of it.

“I’m so glad you came to visit! I really
want to know all about fortune telling. How do you do it? Do you
read people’s palms or something?”

“Mary Jo, don’t pester Kate.”

But Kate shook her head. “It’s all right,
Alex. I don’t mind.” She smiled at Mary Jo. “It’s all hogwash, of
course.”

“Is it?” Mary Jo sounded disappointed.
Looked it, too.

“Well,” said Kate thoughtfully, “I don’t
know about Madame. I think she really believes in some of the
things she does, but I don’t. I only tell fortunes for a
living.”

“You can’t really read palms?” Mary Jo’s
disappointment intensified.

“Oh, sure, I can read palms, but I don’t
know how much a person can really read in another person’s palm.
And Madame taught me to read the Tarot cards, too. I know she
believes in what they say, because she casts a fortune for herself
every day. I don’t know if any of it is true or not, but it’s a
better living than clerking in Wanamaker’s.”

“Oh, did you do that?” Mary Jo’s face took
on an expression of keen interest. “I’d like to get a job
someday.”

“Yeah?” Kate looked as if she were trying to
fight a sardonic expression. “Well, you can take it from me that
telling fortunes pays more than Wanamaker’s, although I don’t know
if it would if I weren’t doing it at the Exposition. People tend to
get their fortunes told for fun while they’re enjoying the fair.
And I guess I do have to admit that reading palms is kind of
fun.”

Mary Jo brightened. “Can you read my
palm?”

“Mary Jo.” Alex would have liked to paddle
his exasperating sister. His tone was severe.

“Oh, no,” said Kate quickly. “It’s all
right. Sure, I’d be happy to read your palm.”

“Goodie!” Shooting Kate a penetrating
glance, Mary Jo then said, “Do you just make it all up as you go
along?”

“Mary Jo.” This time Alex glowered at her.
She didn’t seem to notice.

“No,” said Kate. “There are supposed to be
meanings in the configuration of the palm and the fingers and in
the lines crossing the palms. Madame had to teach me.” Another
shrug. “Maybe it’s true. I don’t know. But Madame taught me what
all the lines and the mounds and so forth are.”

“Oh, this is such fun!”

“Do you really think so? Shoot, I’d rather
live on a farm like this. It’s so beautiful here. And peaceful.
It’s so peaceful.” Kate spoke as if she really meant it, and Alex
was pleased.

“It gets real boring.” A pout marred Mary
Jo’s pretty mouth.

Deciding to interfere before Mary Jo spoiled
Kate’s enjoyment of his particular life’s love, his farm, Alex
spoke up. “It’s only boring because you’re used to it and you
haven’t been out much. Kate knows what city life is like. It’s not
all fun, Mary Jo.”

“You can say that again. Where I live, it’s
no fun at all.”

“Really?” Mary Jo’s pout faded.

“Really.” Kate shot Alex a quick smile.
“It’s so serene here. And green. There are days when I go a mile
out of my way to pass the park because I need to see something
growing. I’d love to see some of your cows and horses and pigs and
other animals.”

“Cows and pigs? Really?” It didn’t look to
Alex as if Mary Jo quite believed in Kate’s interest in cattle.

“Sure. The only time I ever see a cow is
when we use the bones in soup. I think it would be fun to see the
soup bones on the hoof, if you know what I mean.”

“All right, then, come this way.” Alex took
Kate’s arm. He didn’t want her wandering off with Mary Jo, although
he wouldn’t have minded if Mary Jo had wandered off by herself.
Guiding her down a path between some rhododendron bushes, he aimed
for the closest pasture. His father had removed the cattle part of
his farming enterprise to a location farther from the house than it
had originally been, since cows tended to produce smelly residual
products.

“Golly,” said Mary Jo, apparently aiming to
stick to Alex and Kate like glue, “I didn’t know anybody actually
liked cows.”

“I think they’re darling. Pigs, too,” said
Kate stoutly, although Alex got the feeling she was putting on an
act for Mary Jo’s sake. He admired her for it.

“Darling? Pigs?” Alex pretended to be
offended. “Good Lord.”

“Sure.” Kate gave a little skip. “I think
cows and pigs are adorable.”

“Well, we’ve got plenty of both of them, so
you can feast your eyes on their adorability until you get sick of
them.”

“It probably won’t take long,” added Alex’s
sister. “Cows and pigs stink like anything. Then you can read my
palm.”

Kate laughed. Alex said, “Mary Jo,” again,
sternly. Mary Jo pasted on an innocent expression that Alex didn’t
believe for a second. He was pretty sure Kate didn’t, either, but
she only laughed some more.

# # #

The fresh country air caressed Kate’s skin
like a healing balm, and she breathed it in as if it could cure all
her psychic wounds. That was probably silly thinking, but she
couldn’t help it. She loved this place. The notion of actually
living on a farm like this, with all this green loveliness growing
all around her, was akin to an impossible dream. It was all so
beautiful. She was afraid she was going to make herself look
ridiculous by showing how much she loved it here.

Therefore, she attempted to appear dignified
as they passed by the hedge of huge bushes loaded with gorgeous
flowers. Kate had no idea what they were. She paused before a bush
covered with bright red flowers. “Would it be all right to pick
some of these? For my mother?” Darn it, she was blushing; she could
feel it.

“What?” Alex stopped walking and turned,
looking bemused. He saw the bush to which Kate referred. “Oh, of
course. Pick as many flowers as you want, Kate. These are
rhododendrons. They have a lovely flower, don’t they?”

“They sure do.”

“Why don’t you wait until we’re walking back
towards home,” Mary Jo suggested brightly. “That way they won’t
wilt. And I’ll help you pick some roses and peonies, too. My
favorites are the peonies.”

“My goodness. You know what they all
are?”

“Sure.” Mary Jo appeared surprised. “My
mother taught me all about flowers. Don’t you have flowers where
you live?”

“Uh, no. I don’t have a place to grow
flowers where I live. I go to the park when I have time. There are
flowers there.”

“Kate lives in a flat, Mary Jo,” Alex said,
hoping his repressive tone would curb her chattiness. He knew how
Kate could get, and didn’t want her to blow up at his sister, who
was curious out of innocence, not unkindness.

“What’s a flat?”

“It’s a room over a shop,” Kate told her.
“It’s not much, but it’s mine.”

“I wish I could have a flat,” Mary Jo said
wistfully.

Kate gawped at her. Alex chuckled. “You
might not like it as much as you think you would.”

“Bet I would.”

Kate could have given her one or two
pertinent facts of life that might disabuse her of that notion, but
she held her tongue. She considered it a flaw in her nature that
she found Mary Jo’s innocence irksome. By rights, all children Mary
Jo’s age should be innocent. It was poverty’s fault, and her
father’s, that Kate’s own innocence hadn’t lasted past babyhood.
Because she suspected her irritation grew out of some kind of
jealousy of Mary Jo and her family and her circumstances, she
suppressed it ruthlessly. Herbert Finney wasn’t Mary Jo’s fault any
more than he was Kate’s.

“I’d rather live here. It’s so . . . I don’t
know. It’s alive and growing. Where I live seems to be more . . .
Oh, I don’t know; dead and dying, I guess. Or something.” Kate felt
silly after her artless confession, and braced herself for scorn
or, worse, pity.

“Golly, I don’t think so. I think it’s
boring here.” Mary Jo’s own sweeping gaze didn’t indicate pleasure
in her surroundings.

“I could stand a little boredom from time to
time,” Kate said dryly. “Anyhow, I think it would be exciting to
have my own home, and to be able to sew curtains and cook meals and
that sort of thing. I don’t really like having to work away from
home in order to make enough money to survive. Not that my flat’s
much of a home, but . . .” Her words petered out again. She wished
she’d stop blurting out these personal confessions. They made her
life sound so shabby. Which it was. Kate heaved a huge,
grass-scented sigh.