“Tisdale?” The name sounded familiar, but Cullen had met so many people.
Grasty lifted his cane and pointed. “He runs my letterpress rght over there.”
The automatic platen press. Of course. “Yes, sir. That’s a beauty of a machine.”
Another big smile. “Thank you. She’s a special one, that’s for crtn. Now what do we have here?”
Cullen began his now-rote explanation. From the corner of his eye, he saw Bulenberg snatch up his hat and storm past them toward the exit. But Cullen had no time to ruminate on it, for Grasty peppered him with question after question. It was clear the man had a good grasp of mechanics and Cullen found himself talking about much more than just the sprinkler.
When Cullen finally looked at his watch, he realized he was running out of time if he wanted to swing by the fire station before his lessons.
Snapping his watch closed, he held out his hand. “Thank you for stopping by, sir. It was a pleasure.”
“I’m intrigued, McNamara. Let me contact my insurance cmpny and see what they thnk. But the fact that the system is unproven will be a stumbling blck. I’d heard something about a demonstration?”
Cullen didn’t even hesitate. “I’m working on that and will let you know when I have a specific date. Also, if your insurance company doesn’t provide you with the answer you’re seeking, don’t forget about Vaughn Mutual. I’d be glad to put you in contact with its owner. In the meanwhile, would you like me to take a look at your Chicago location while I’m in town?”
“I certainly would. What about two weeks from today? Monday, the twenty-first?”
“Perfect, sir. I’ll be there.”
As Grasty walked away, Cullen wondered exactly how many printer works he had in all. However many it was, he needed that demonstration.
Inside Fire and Guard Station One, a hook and ladder waited in readiness, its horse flicking a fly with its tail. Firefighters lounged about benches in red shirts, while others played cards at a long table.
“Well, if it isn’t Gulliver traveling our way,” one of them shouted.
Cullen smiled at the nickname they’d given him because of his height. “Hello, Spud, Fish, fellows. How’ve you been?”
They regaled him with the tale of two little shavers who’d rigged up a raft from an old packing crate behind the Government Building, then tested it out on the lagoon, fell in, and had to be rescued. They teased Fish for being afraid of the water. Then they asked Cullen for his news and became indignant when they discovered the commission had denied his request.
“Want us to go egg the director-general’s house?” Spud asked.
Cullen laughed. “Not just yet. I can appeal it. Let me try that first.”
After disappointed groans, they agreed to wait.
“I was hoping to talk to the chief, though. Is he here?”
“Right behind you, son.”
Cullen whirled around, then pumped the man’s hand. “Good to see you, sir.”
Murphy ran a thumb and finger down his mustache. “I keep meaning to come by and see your system. I’m sorry I haven’t.”
“I’d really like to show it to you. I’m there every day until the supper hour.”
“What happens at the supper hour?”
“He turns into a pumpkin,” one of the boys yelled.
Cullen lifted his hands in a what-can-I-say gesture, then slowly sobered. “I heard the donations from Fireman’s Sunday were tallied, divided, and ready to be sent.”
Murphy nodded.
Pulling a letter from inside his jacket, Cullen handed it to him. “When you send a donation to John’s family, would you mind including this?”
In his letter, Cullen offered his sympathy and shared as many memories as he could so the Ransoms would know John’s last days were full ones.
“I’d be happy to. Thank you.” Murphy squeezed Cullen’s shoulder. “It’ll mean a lot to them.”
MIDWAY PLAISANCE
“Ferris’s enormous wheel took up the middle of the Plaisance. Each screened-in box car creaked and swung from the wheel’s spokes.”
CHAPTER
29
Cullen and Della passed beneath a viaduct and entered the mile-long Midway Plaisance. Nothing since the tower of Babel held such a confusion of tongues in one place. His concern about this section of the fair, though, was that most exhibits required an admission fee. A fee he couldn’t afford to pay. But Della wanted to see it, so see it they would.
“Look at the balloon.” She pointed to a hydrogen balloon taking off from behind a walled-off park. Placing a hand on the crown of her hat, she watched its ascent. “Oh my soul, it’s so huge. I had no idea.” She’d hooked the purple netting from a peach-colored hat underneath her chin, then tied it in a saucy bow just below her right ear.
MIDWAY PLAISANCE
“I know there’s a lot to see,” he said, “but I’d really like to get started with our lessons.”
She gathered herself. “Sorry. There’s just so much. Good heavens, are those ostriches?”
Lifting his hat, he replaced it on his head. It had become increasingly difficult to stay on task during their excursions, but that was his fault as much as hers.
“What are we working on today?” he asked.
Opening the chatelaine bag hanging from her belt, she extracted a folded piece of paper and handed it to him. “I’m going to ask you questions throughout the evening. Those are hints to help you lip-read my queries.”
The paper held numbered phrases. Hot chocolate. Gondola. Grover Cleveland. Investor. Helen Keller. Brilliantine. Tree trunks. Harvell House.
After scanning all twenty-five, he nodded. “All right. I’m ready.”
But she was no longer beside him. Instead, she conversed with an Italian man attired in the uniform of a Vatican Guard and armed accordingly. Behind him stood a miniature replica of St. Peter’s Cathedral. “Miniature” was a bit of a stretch, however, for though it was about one-sixteenth the size of the original in Rome, it was still a good thirty feet long and fifteen feet wide.
VATICAN GUARD
MODEL OF ST. PETER'S
Smiling, she looked at Cullen over her shoulder and pointed to the exhibit. The wide brim of her hat reflected the peach color of her cheeks. Let’s go in here.
He’d read it. He’d read the entire sentence.
“The guard said it’s an exact replica, down to the minutest details,” she said as he approached.
“You go ahead. I’ll wait here.”
“You sure?”
“Positive.”
She captured his gaze. Who’s the president of the United States?
Blinking, he hesitated, then smiled. “Grover Cleveland.”
“Very good.” She handed a coin to the ticket taker and entered the exhibit.
Cullen watched her peek inside the intricately carved wooden structure coated with a stucco-like substance. Long pleats formed a V in both the back and front of her peach and purple bodice, drawing his eye to her slender waist and curvy hips. Turning, she swept to the other corners of the exhibit, where miniatures of the Cathedral of Milan, the Piombino Palace, and the Pantheon were displayed.
Returning to him, she thanked the guard and proceeded back onto the Plaisance. “Oh, Cullen. They had minuscule portraits of the popes and papal coats of arms inside the cathedral.”
He glanced again at the display, wishing he could have seen it as well.
They passed the Irish Village. Behind its turreted stone keep, bagpipes squeezed out rousing tunes, their notes obliterating all chances of conversation.
What kind of boats are on the lllnnn?
He glanced at his paper. “Must be gondola. That’s the only boat on my list. But I missed the last word you said.”
You’re doing very ball.
No. She must have said well. You’re doing very well.
“Only with you,” he said. “Your lips aren’t difficult to decipher. But some people mumble or barely move their
lips, and I have a terrible time interpreting their words.”
You’ll get rrrr.
“I’ll get what?”
Bet-ter.
He nodded. Up ahead, Ferris’s enormous wheel took up the middle of the Plaisance. Each screened-in box car creaked and swung from the wheel’s spokes. A long line of fairgoers awaiting their turns twisted past the Vienna Café and the Indian Bazaar.
FERRIS WHEEL
Della stopped, once again holding her hat as she surveyed Ferris’s monstrosity. She looked at a painted sign above the ticket booth, then winced. Fifty cents per person.
Vendors walked up and down the line bawling, shouting, and hawking their wares. “Cigarettes! Ver’ sheap! Two for five!”
“Step forward! Ferris wheel souvenirs! Two nickels! One dime!”
Della ground to a halt, an exhibit on her left capturing her full attention.
What’s that? she mouthed.
Towering above a fence, an old-fashioned double-ripper whipped passenger-filled toboggans through a winding course, its occupants screaming with a mixture of fear and delight. A rumbling machine kept the chute’s surface slick and coated with ice.
Della dug into her chatelaine bag. “Imagine, sliding on ice in the summertime and without a coat. I can’t wait to write my brothers back in Philadelphia. They’ll never believe it.” Extracting a dime, she squeezed it in her palm. “Go with me?”
He glanced at the ride. Most of the riders were boys and men, but he simply couldn’t spend the dime. “You go ahead.”
“But it’s no fun by myself.” Biting her cheek, she gave him a speculative look. “I won’t get any hot cocoa for two days, and right after the ride, we’ll sit down and work on our lessons for the rest of the evening.”
That alone was worth the dime. Still, he paid for her cup of cocoa every day before their lessons. It was five cents a cup and the least he could do to compensate her. If she went without for two days, though, and he went on this ride, then he’d come out even.
He pulled on his ear. “Well, I suppose. Just this once.”
The smile she gave him produced both dimples and hit him right in the gut. Before he could recover, she was already flying toward the sleds, calling for him to follow.
At the entrance platform, the cars passed them once, whooshing by in a blur. The boys inside held their arms high in the air, screaming like a bunch of girls. The smile on her face grew even bigger.
Again the cars passed. Della shifted from foot to foot. Finally the ride halted in front of them. As soon as their sled vacated, she scrambled inside. He slipped in the seat behind her. Each section held three seats, but they were the only two in their car.
Twisting around, she lifted her shoulders, her grin wide. “Scared?”
“Hardly.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “You going to hold on?”
“I hadn’t really thought about it.” His eyes widened. “Are you?”
“Of course not.”
He scowled. “Don’t be ridiculous, Della. You need to hold the handles. Do you understand me?”
“Don’t worry, Cullen. I won’t tell anyone if you hold on.”
“That’s not it. You need to hold on. You’re scared of heights, for crying out loud.”
“I’m not. I told you, I just wasn’t prepared before.”
The sledge jerked and she faced forward, her laugh tumbling back to him. Starting slowly, the sled gradually increased its speed, ruffling the plum feathers in her hat.
As it approached an incline, the sledge slowed considerably, and wouldn’t have made it to the top except a cable gripped it and hauled it to the peak of the hill.
Della clapped her hands.
“Hold on,” he barked.
She grabbed the handles. But as soon as the cable released the sled, one of her hands went to her hat, the other shot into the air. They dove down with great speed, then whipped around a curve.
She jerked to the left, her body hanging halfway out the side. Her squeal propelled him forward. Reaching around her seat, he grabbed her belt and skirt, dragging her back in. She swatted his hand, but he didn’t let go until they righted themselves, only to repeat the process on the other side when they rounded the next curve. The tails of her bow slapped his face and caught in his mouth.
How could someone who was afraid of an elevator have no compunction about a toboggan ride?
Three times they sailed through the loop. Three times she refused to hold on. By the time they reached the end, he was furious.
The minute they climbed out of the car, he spun her around. “What the deuce were you thinking up there? Are you out of your mind?”
Her lips fell open. “It was all in fun, Cullen. I’ve been tobogganing since I was a child. My brothers and I never held on.”
“I have never in my entire life seen a lady behave with such abandon. You scared the living daylights out of me. What if you’d fallen?”
“I wasn’t going to fall.”
“Because I made sure you wouldn’t.”
Her face began to harden. “All you did is risk tearing my gown, not to mention squeezing me so hard I’ll probably be black-and-blue.”
An attendant stepped forward. “Time to move on, folks,” he said, gently.
She jerked her arm out of Cullen’s grasp. “It most certainly is.”
Storming off the platform, she stomped down the steps, her skirts whipping side to side in time with her hips.
He told his pulse to slow, but it wouldn’t. He told himself to calm down, but he couldn’t. He told himself she wasn’t his problem, but it made no difference.
Taking large strides, he began to follow her. The last thing he needed was to lose her, leaving her alone and defenseless in a crowd this size.
She made a beeline for the Vienna Café at the west end of the Ferris wheel. A place she knew good and well he couldn’t afford. The ornamental structure served hot meals on the first floor, while the upper floor devoted itself to cold meals and beer tables.
He hadn’t told her of his financial woes, and she never asked. But she knew he didn’t have enough funds to pay for her lessons, nor did he ever buy himself hot chocolate or concessions, and he didn’t go to any of the paying exhibits. She must have drawn her own conclusions from there.
She paused long enough to read a sign outside the entrance, then made her way up the outdoor staircase leading to the café’s second story. She neither waited for him nor looked over her shoulder to see where he was.
Weaving through the crowd, he watched as she disappeared behind the café door.
Unreasonable woman. What did she expect? That he’d let her plunge to her death while he sat there and did nothing? Anger sluiced through him once again. Wanda was looking more attractive by the minute. She’d never have done such a fool thing.
VIENNA CAFÉ
“She made a beeline for the Vienna Café at the west end of the Ferris wheel. A place she knew good and well he couldn’t afford.”
CHAPTER
30
Della followed a pretty young woman in a blue Austrian dirndl and white pinafore. The girl’s sash wrapped around her back and tied at the front on her left side, indicating she was unmarried. Ornate screens decorated the room while an orchestra’s concerto filtered up from downstairs.
The waitress led her to a corner table far away from a boisterous group of beer-drinking men.
“Thank you.” Smoothing her skirt beneath her, she scooted up the chair.
“Vould you like someting to drink, Fraulein?”
“Do you have hot chocolate?”
“Ya. I vill be back.”
Removing her gloves, Della tucked them inside her chatelaine bag. She probably shouldn’t have run off, but sometimes he made her so angry.
So she had left, searching out a place where she could catch her breath and sort out her thoughts. But the more she sorted, the more guilty she felt.
You scared the living daylights out of me.
She hadn’t meant to do that. They probably didn’t get much snow in Charlotte, if any. She wondered if he’d ever even been on a toboggan.
Her remorse increased. Perhaps she should go look for him. She glanced toward the kitchen where the waitress had disappeared, then to the front entrance.
He stood just inside the door, scanning the patrons. His gaze snagged on hers. Relief, guilt, and a tiny thrill shot through her in quick succession. She drank in the fine cut of his suit, his towering height, and his marvelous chest, which had sheltered her on more than one occasion.
She was falling in love with him, she admitted.
It wasn’t a hard thing to do. From the moment he’d rescued her on opening day, she’d been infatuated. But the game was up when he told her of his inventions and his mother’s tragedy, comforted her in the elevator, and cried in her arms during the fire. It had just taken a while for her to acknowledge it.
She knew he had feelings for her as well, though he’d not yet reconciled himself to them. But that was all right. She would wait. He had the rest of the fair to figure it out.
He stopped in front of her table.
“Hello.” His voice was deep, soft.
“Hello.”
“I’m sorry I yelled.”
“I’m sorry I scared you.”
He nodded. “May I sit down?”
“Of course.” She patted the spot to her left. “Sit here and we’ll work on your lessons.”
“That’s my bad side.” He reached for the chair across from her.
She patted the spot again. “That’s why you need to sit there. I want you to practice hearing people who are on your right.”
He hesitated, eyeing the proximity of the two chairs.
She tried not to smile. Why did he fight it so hard?
“What’s so funny?” He took the place she indicated, his voice gruff.
What is my favorite drink? she mouthed.
“Hot chocolate. And don’t change the subject.”