Bicycle Built for Two (9 page)

“What are you doing?” she screeched.

“Be quiet.” He glanced over his shoulder at
her—she was hanging back as if she believed he was taking her to be
executed. “And if you value your shoes, you’d better pick up your
feet. I’m sure you wouldn’t want to have to buy another pair of
shoes just because you’re being stubborn.”

“Stubborn?
Stubborn
! How
dare—
Darn
!” She
picked up her feet and, trotting, caught up with him. “What the
heck do you think you’re doing?” She’d stopped yelling, thank
God.

“I’m taking you to get a cup of tea. We’re
going to talk like civilized human beings.”

“I have to work!”

“Dash it, I’ll pay you for a fortune-telling
session! You won’t lose any money, I promise you.”

“Hmph.”

A surge of triumph swept over Alex. He
figured it was premature, but he could at least congratulate
himself on getting the obstreperous Kate Finney to do something he
told her to do for once. He’d bet not many people could say that.
That this would undoubtedly prove to be the only time he succeeded
didn’t matter.

He didn’t let go of her when they reached
the Polish restaurant. It was pure luck that Alex had headed in
this direction, and he was glad of it. He could use another sausage
and kraut. And another beer. Good God, but this woman was an
infuriating baggage. He held on tight and marched her to a table in
the middle of the outdoor beer garden. “Sit,” he commanded,
pressing her into a chair.

Kate looked around, her fury transforming to
bewilderment, if Alex read her face aright. “I’ve never been in
here before.” Her voice was low, as if she didn’t want to be
overheard.

Alex sincerely hoped he was right about
that. He didn’t want her hollering at him, especially not in a
public restaurant. “They have delicious sausage sandwiches with
sauerkraut.”

“Sauerkraut?” She squinted at him for a
second before her expression eased. “Oh, yeah. Sure. I know what
that is. Mrs. Schlichter used to give my ma that sometimes. It’s
some kind of sour cabbage, isn’t it? German?”

He nodded. “German, Polish, Prussian. I
suppose they all make it over there.”

“Ah.”

Alex waved at the waiter who had served him
a couple of times before. The portly man smiled broadly as he
waddled over to Alex and Kate. He bowed to Kate, who stared at him
as if he were something new to her. Which he might be, Alex
perceived suddenly. Where she came from, she probably didn’t get
bowed at every day in the week. He spoke to the waiter. “Good day
to you, Herr Gross. Lovely day, isn’t it?”

“Ach, ya!” Herr Gross’s voice was as loud as
Kate’s had been minutes earlier, but much more friendly. “Anotter
beer for you, Herr English? And for the lady?”

Alex glanced at Kate. He noted with some
surprise that she seemed to have shrunk in her chair. It struck him
all at once that she was uncomfortable here, in this very
commonplace restaurant, and he felt a stab of pity. Because he
couldn’t imagine feeling out of place anywhere, much less a
restaurant, he smiled at her, trying not to come across to her as
patronizing, although that was probably beyond his power. She
perceived everything as patronizing, when it came from him. “Miss
Finney? Would you care for a glass of beer?”

Her eyes grew huge, until they reminded Alex
of the sapphire-blue crystal Christmas ornaments his parents had
bought one year when they traveled through France. “Beer? Are you
out of your mind?”

Alex recollected Kate’s father, and cursed
himself. Because he didn’t want to make a scene, he asked, keeping
his tone pleasant, “Would you prefer lemonade?”

She opened her mouth, and Alex braced
himself to receive a splash of vitriol. But Kate only cast one
apprehensive glance at the jovial Herr Gross, looked away again
just as quickly, and said, “Yes, please.”

Alex smiled at the waiter. “One beer and one
lemonade, please.”

“Ya, ya. And will you be having another of
our delicious sausages and kraut, Herr English?”

“Yes, please.” Alex glanced at Kate. She was
looking around the restaurant as if she expected to be attacked by
marauding Huns any second. He opted to decide for her. “And one for
the lady, please.”

With a last exuberant bow, Herr Gross went
away to fetch the provender. Alex watched Kate with mounting
curiosity for several seconds. Although he’d rather shocked himself
when he’d first started hauling her away from her booth, Alex was
glad now that he’d done it. If he’d known how easy it was to get
her to shut up, he’d have taken her to a restaurant sooner. Folding
his hands, he placed them on the table, leaned over slightly, and
spoke to Kate in a soft voice.

“Now, Miss Finney, perhaps we can hold a
conversation without shouting at each other.”

He saw her lips tighten, but she still
looked nervous. “I won’t shout.” Actually, she’d lowered her voice
until Alex could scarcely hear her. Another jolt of sorrow for her
circumstances went through him. He thanked God he’d been born of a
good family in respectable circumstances, and wondered why he’d
never thought to do so before.

“Thank you,” he said. “And now I’d like to
clear something up, because I want there to be no mistake about my
intentions regarding you or your mother.”

She watched him like a bird being stalked by
a hungry Tom cat. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” The word felt funny on his tongue.
“I want nothing from you in payment for helping your mother, Miss
Finney. Nothing. Not a single thing. Is that clear?”

She hesitated. “I guess.” Her lips pressed
together again for only a moment. “But I still don’t
understand.”

Alex felt his anger stir and strove to keep
it in check. Unfolding his hands, he poked the table with his
forefinger. “I am not a monster, Miss Finney. Nor am I an
unreasonable man.”

She opened her mouth, but didn’t use it to
speak. Rather, she huffed softly and shut it again.

“I am very sorry your mother has had such a
hard life. I’m also sorry that your own circumstances have been so
difficult.”

“Huh,” she said, as if she didn’t believe
him. “I don’t need your pity, darn it.”

Alex sighed. “Of course, you don’t. I’m not
offering you pity. I’m trying to understand how difficult life must
be for you. You have to bear far too much responsibility for so
young a woman.”

She eyed him slantwise. “A lot you know
about it.”

Alex gave up on that tack. She wasn’t going
to give an inch. He could practically see the chip on her shoulder
grow as he spoke. “I went to the hospital yesterday not because I
wanted to dig into your private life, but because you asked me for
a ride there. I wanted to find out why, although I acknowledge your
life is none of my business.”

“Right,” said Kate.

Alex didn’t take the bait. “I found out, and
I met your mother. The poor woman is very ill, as you know.” He
added the last phrase because he didn’t want her to smite him with
her well-developed sense of sarcasm. “I wanted to help her. I
suppose that in helping her, I’m also helping you, but that wasn’t
my intention, in case you wondered.”

She eyed him sullenly. “I wondered.”

“Well, then.” He sat back in his chair, glad
to have cleared up the doubts in Kate’s mind. “Now you know.”

“And you don’t want anything from me in
return?” She still looked skeptical, although not quite as much as
before.

“Nothing. I want nothing from you.”

“Huh.”

Herr Gross showed up with Kate’s lemonade
and Alex’s beer, and the two stopped talking. Alex sipped his beer,
glad to have something to do with his mouth besides talk.

Kate took a delicate sip of lemonade and
looked at him again. Her expression was wary, and again Alex got
the impression of a small animal being stalked by a large one. He
decided a smile wouldn’t be out of place under the circumstances,
so he gave her one. “Do you like your lemonade?”

She nodded and gestured at his own foamy
glass. It was a small gesture. Alex got the feeling she didn’t want
anyone else to notice her, although that was impossible since she
was presently garbed as a Gypsy fortune teller. Her costume was, to
say the least, exceptional among all the fashionably clad folks
dining in the Polish Garden. But people were, for the most part,
polite, and no one gaped at her after taking a second glance. “Do
you drink much of that stuff?”

The question startled him. “Beer?”

“Yeah. Do you drink much?”

“No. I enjoy a glass of beer with these
sausages. Otherwise, I guess I don’t drink anything at all.
Why?”

She looked away from his face. “No reason.
Just wondered.”

Alex remembered Kate’s father, and
understanding smote him. “I’m not like your father, Miss Finney,”
he said stiffly.

She gave him a glacial stare. “No, you’re
not. You’re rich, and you’re not a pig.”

Alex felt his eyes open wide. “Thank you. I
think.”

She didn’t smile, but sipped more lemonade.
Herr Gross brought two steaming platters heaped with food and set a
plate in front of Kate, and one in front of Alex. “Enjoy!” he
commanded them with a merry laugh before trundling off to wait on
others who’d entered the restaurant. Taking out his gold pocket
watch and squinting at it, Alex realized the day wasn’t far
advanced. It was, in fact, rather early for luncheon, but he still
considered this move a brilliant one on his part.

He dug into his own lunch with relish. He
hadn’t realized how hungry he was. Kate, he noticed, looked
slightly daunted at the huge amount of food Herr Gross had set
before her. “Don’t worry about finishing it,” he said, feeling
benevolent. “I won’t scold you for not cleaning your plate.” He’d
thought he was being funny.

Evidently, he’d thought wrong. “This could
feed my brothers and me for two days, Mr. English. I guess we
haven’t learned how to waste food yet. Maybe when I get rich, we
will.”

Alex expelled a breath of exasperation.
“Perhaps when you get rich, you’ll learn some manners, as well.” He
stabbed at another piece of sausage and delivered it to his mouth
and followed it up with a bite of potato. Miss Kate Finney was
possibly the most exasperating female he’d ever met in his life. He
absolutely hated it that she viewed him with contempt.

His astonishment was real when he saw the
wretched female appear to be ashamed of herself. He was even more
taken aback when she said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be
hateful.”

Since he was still chewing, Alex grunted.

“I’m not used to people doing nice things
for me. Thank you.” It sounded as though the last two-word sentence
nearly choked her.

Alex decided not to prolong the argument
with a bitter retort. Rather, after he’d swallowed, he said,
“You’re welcome. Now eat your lunch.”

She apparently couldn’t make herself thank
him again, because she only nodded, cut off a small bite of
sausage, roll, and sauerkraut, and lifted it to her mouth. It was a
pretty mouth. Alex had noticed that before. He didn’t dare watch
her closely, for fear of igniting that ghastly temper of hers, but
he did study her surreptitiously as he sipped more of his beer. She
was still ill at ease; that much was plain, and it made his
interest in her and her circumstances grow. He doubted that she’d
ever feel at ease in his company, but he decided he’d make a push
to get her to relax. As long as his association with her mother was
a fixed thing—until the poor woman died, he thought unhappily—he
couldn’t very well avoid Kate.

In an attempt to achieve detente, he said,
“I like to put some of this mustard on my sausage and kraut. It
brings out the tang.”

Kate lifted her gaze from her plate, where
it had been stuck. “Yeah?” She shrugged with a fair imitation of
her usual insouciance. “Maybe I’ll give it a try. It’s pretty tangy
already.” A fleeting grin decorated her face.

Alex took heart. Maybe she wasn’t a hopeless
case. He grinned back. “It is that, all right. I like it.” Taking a
chance that speaking of his own mother might make her feel more
comfortable, he said, “My mother doesn’t make sauerkraut. I guess
that’s because my family’s from a different part of Europe, and
it’s not in our heritage.”

Her mouth twisted wryly. “You mean your
mother cooks? You haven’t hired somebody to cook for her?”

He laid his knife and fork on his plate,
lifted his napkin, and patted his lips, glaring at her the while.
When he set his napkin back in his lap, he said, “Dash it, Miss
Finney, do you always have to say something provocative every time
anyone says anything at all to you? I was attempting to forge some
kind of bond between us.”

She looked at him cautiously. “A bond? Why a
bond? What sort of bond?”

He flung his arms out,
barely missing Herr Gross. “
Any
sort of bond! I have, if you’ll recall, begun
caring for your mother. I don’t expect your thanks or your
gratitude, but life might be more pleasant if you’d stop snapping
at me every time I extend a comment in friendship.”

A lengthy pause preceded her next words.
“Friendship?”

If he ever, God forbid, met another female
as unpleasant and caustic and downright ill-natured as Kate Finney
again in this lifetime, he prayed that he’d have sense enough to
turn tail and run away from her as fast as he could. Even holding a
civil conversation with this woman was next to impossible. “You
have, undoubtedly, the world’s largest chip on your shoulder, Miss
Finney. I hope you know that.”

Her gaze fell first. She muttered, “Aw,
nuts,” and resumed eating her lunch. She did spread a little
mustard on her sausage first. Alex wondered if that meant anything,
conciliation-wise. He doubted it.

Chapter Five