Bicycle Built for Two (37 page)

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 mean 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.