18. Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Eighteen
Margaret closed the office door and locked it from the outside .
She straightened her cloche hat and turned around, seeing her father’s empty parking space.
He stepped out after a meeting to visit with some investors across town, and to Margaret’s surprise, he had not returned.
“I’ll be back by five,” he said three hours ago.
Margaret pulled her coat tighter around her form as she watched unfamiliar automobiles drive past. She sighed, leaning back against the door.
A vehicle eventually slowed and parked in front of the office.
Roger McKinley peered up at her through the windshield with a smile on his face, making Margaret’s heart stumble over its next beat.
He casually sat behind the wheel, wearing a gray flat cap.
Roger had left the office fifteen minutes ago in his normal professional attire, and now he looked more common than she had ever seen him.
When he stepped out, Margaret was taken aback more so by the absence of his coat and tie. Now he wore only a sweater vest and a white long-sleeve shirt, rolled up to his elbows. He opened the passenger door, grinning brightly. Since when did Roger smile like that?
“Hop in, Miss Nicholson.”
Margaret folded her arms. “I have no idea what you are doing, Roger, but my father is on his way.”
“He’ll be out for another hour or so. He called my apartment, asking if I’d give you a ride home.”
Margaret smirked. “So my father calls your home now, huh?”
“I guess that makes me part of the family.” He shot her a wink, making heat rush through Margaret’s cheeks.
“I don’t believe so. Sounds like you’re more of a friend, one that is rather odd for my father to find at his age.”
Roger squinted as he laughed. “So will you let me take you home?”
Margaret nearly lost her breath, focusing on Roger’s muscular forearms, bare and catching her eye like a valuable item—pleasing to the eye and almost .
. . desirable? Lord forbid! She could almost hear her grandmama’s voice, prohibiting her from going near this man, let alone thinking these foolish things, but how else would she get home?
She’d push them away and act professional, as though they were still in the office.
“You may.” Margaret adjusted her briefcase and walked to the passenger door, but to her surprise, Roger shut it and blocked the entrance.
“What are you—”
“Come over here,” Roger instructed, pointing to the other side. “It’s your turn to drive.”
Margaret’s breath hitched. “Drive? You’re indeed mad, Roger McKinley. I don’t know how!”
“That’s why you learn,” Roger said proudly. “Now step inside. We don’t want your father to worry, do we?”
Margaret swallowed hard. Her stomach grew sour, looking at that wheel, the same type of wheel that caused that automobile to crash. She closed her eyes, taking in deep breaths. Push it away, Margaret. Don’t appear weak.
Roger stepped closer and laid his hand on her back. “If you’d rather do this another time, I understand. I was just trying to be—”
“I’ll do it,” Margaret said swiftly. Even if she and Roger had honest conversations about their fears, she wouldn’t allow them to consume her anymore, not in this light.
She’d take a deep breath, learn how to drive, and put this silliness aside.
Then Margaret would be able to ride in automobiles again without having nervous breakdowns.
She’d keep her chin high and be the exact woman she wanted to be—strong-willed and fearless.
Roger opened the driver’s door, and she stepped inside. The road in front of her grew blurry as her head pounded. She blinked twice, gripping the steering wheel, ready to begin her first driving lesson.
Roger settled beside her, rubbing his hands together. “All right, let’s begin.”
“How long have you driven?” Margaret asked nervously, trying to keep her focus elsewhere, and perhaps stall Roger so her father would arrive and take her home himself.
“Since I was able to get my hands on one. When I was twelve, Graydon and I snuck into our employer’s garage and took one for a ride.
We both took turns and eventually learned.
When we turned fifteen, we bought our first vehicle, and Graydon discovered his love for racing, so when he won enough races, he bought his own. ”
“Racing?” Margaret raised her brows. “You two must be quite the daredevils.”
“Oh, Graydon is that.”
Margaret’s pulse steadied. “I guess that’s why he and my sister get along.”
Roger chuckled. “Probably so.” He pointed to the controls. “Before we even think about starting the car, let me show you the controls.”
Margaret bit her lip. “I’m not sure I can do this, Roger. It all looks so complicated.”
Roger gently laid a hand on her shoulder. “You can do it. Just take a deep breath. Look, this is the ignition switch. And this lever here is the choke. You’ll need to adjust it to help the engine start.”
Margaret nodded, her hands trembling. “All right, ignition switch and choke. Got it.”
“Good. Now, this pedal on the left is the clutch. You’ll need to press it down to change gears. The one in the middle is the brake, and the one on the right is the accelerator.”
Margaret pointed to a lever sticking up from the floor. “What about this lever?”
“That’s the handbrake. We’ll release it once we’re ready to go. Are you ready to give it a try?”
Margaret’s heart thundered, her pulse hammering in her ears. Her hands grew numb as they continued to shake. “I-I don’t know.”
Roger placed his hand over hers, making warmth travel through her veins. “I’m right here. I won’t let anything happen to you, Margaret.”
Margaret sucked in a breath, and as soon as her hands stopped shaking, she smiled. “Let’s do this.”
“First, turn the ignition switch and adjust the choke. Once you’ve done that, you’ll need to use the hand crank to start the engine. I’ll help you with that part.”
Roger stepped out of the car and moved to the front, inserting the hand crank.
Margaret turned the ignition switch and adjusted the choke, her temples throbbing.
After Roger cranked the engine a few times, the automobile roared, coming to life.
Margaret laughed softly. She was about to do it; she was facing her fears.
Roger opened the passenger door and stepped in. “That’s the sound of adventure. Now, keep your foot on the clutch and move the gear shift into first.”
Margaret followed his instructions, her movements hesitant. The car jerked forward as she tried to find the right balance with the clutch and accelerator.
“Roger, it’s moving! What do I do?”
“Easy now, just ease off the clutch slowly and give it a little gas. You’re doing great.”
After lightly gassing, the automobile proceeded smoothly down the road. Margaret gripped the steering wheel, her knuckles white.
“I’m scared, Roger.” She swallowed. “What if I crash?” Seeing the passing cars on the left side made her nauseous. She pressed her lips together, trying to gain composure.
“You’re not going to crash. Just keep your eyes on the road and take it slow. You’re in control.”
You’re in control, Margaret repeated to herself. That driver didn’t have any control after being intoxicated. Now, she was holding the steering wheel, and Roger was beside her, guiding her. The past couldn’t grip her anymore. She was the driver now. She had control.
Margaret smiled. “I think I’m getting the hang of this.”
“I knew you would. You’re a natural.”
Her eyes on the road, Margaret couldn’t look at Roger’s face, but she imagined him proud. He knew just what to say and how to help her through her trauma. A true friend he was, one she’d prayed for.
After pulling into Maplebrook, Roger taught Margaret the best ways to park, and afterward, Margaret let out a big breath. She looked over at Roger, who wore a large grin, larger than she’d ever seen on him in the two weeks of knowing him.
“I did it!” Margaret squealed. “I drove an automobile! All by myself!”
Roger chuckled and raised his brows. “All by yourself, huh? What do you call back there when you almost missed that turn?”
“Oh, hush it!” Margaret snapped. “I had most of it in control.”
She looked into Roger’s gentle coffee-brown eyes, a swell of gratitude coursing through her. Just looking at him made her heart beat with joy. She pressed her hand over his and smiled.
“Thank you, Roger. You have no idea how much I needed that.”
Roger squeezed her hand. “I’m glad I could help.”
She tilted towards him, their bodies pressing close together in the front seat. She stared at his lips, just as she did on the balcony with Eugene, but this time seemed different. She knew Roger better than she knew Eugene then.
Roger leaned in, and Margaret closed her eyes, but that moment was cut short when she overheard voices.
Margaret turned sharply to her left and saw the blurry figures of her grandmother and Eugene emerging from the garden path.
She froze, her heart racing in her throat.
How could she face Roger now? What was she doing!
She turned to Roger, and his lips parted slightly. He seemed to have read her mind and he opened the passenger door.
“I’ll let you out.”
Margaret sat there, the moments stretching into what felt like an eternity as she waited for him to come to her side.
She nearly invited him to kiss her, or had he invited her?
A flame ignited in her cheeks. She couldn’t kiss the man.
Roger had no fortune, no prosperous property. He couldn’t be a match.
When she stepped out of the vehicle, her eyes locked with Eugene’s baby blues. He smiled as he walked his way to her. This is the man who you are in love with, she told herself. He’s the one you should be kissing.
“Margaret,” Eugene said, approaching her. “How nice it is to see you again.” He stopped in front of her, taking her hand into his, planting a kiss.
The hairs on her neck stood as she sensed the tension with Roger standing behind her. “How lovely it is to see you, Lord Burton. I had no idea you were coming.”
“I hope you don’t mind the unannounced visit,” Grandmama said, standing behind him. She placed her hand on the tall man’s shoulder. “I wanted it to be a surprise.” Her nose wrinkled, studying Margaret’s clothing. “But it seems I should have given more hints.”
Margaret flattened the wrinkles on her skirt and turned towards Roger. “Mr. McKinley was teaching me how to drive. Daddy is running a bit late.”
Eugene’s brows raised. “Driving? You have yet to stop surprising me.”
Grandmama grinned at Roger, but her pretentiousness was obvious. “Thank you, sir. I appreciate you taking time out of your day to teach her.” She straightened Margaret’s hat, setting it over her ears. “Better be careful or else we’ll have to fire our drivers.”
“We would do no such thing,” Margaret said. “I enjoyed driving, but it will be a long while before I am perfect.”
Roger pressed his lips together and cleared his throat. “I must take my leave now. It’s good to see you three. Goodbye, Miss Nicholson, Mrs. Nicholson, and Lord Burton.” Roger tipped the brim of his flat cap.
Eugene smiled down at Margaret, and she tried to admire those blue eyes of his. Hearing the engine roar, she fought the urge to look back and say goodbye to her friend.
Eugene held out his arm. “Would you care for a stroll?”
Grandmama nodded, commanding Margaret to agree. Margaret forced a smile and gripped his forearm. “I would love that.”
“I’ll be here on this bench, chaperoning from a distance,” Grandmama informed, lowering herself.
Margaret nodded and transferred all her attention to Eugene. They walked slowly along the garden path, a nearby whippoorwill singing a tune. A hummingbird flew above them, buzzing as it took nectar from a nearby flower.
“I have found myself thinking of you all day long,” Eugene confessed. “Everywhere I go, something reminds me of you.”
Margaret giggled. “And what might that be?”
Eugene placed a hand on his chin. “Well, the first choice would be the sunlight peeking through my window in the mornings. It shines bright as you do in my life. Nothing can compare to your radiant beauty.”
“My, my, you must be a poet. You flatter me, Eugene.”
Eugene chuckled. “I’m just trying my best to woo you. Is it working?”
Margaret’s heart skipped. Woo her? Why, yes, he had, ever since she met him.
Every moment they had together had been romantic and seemed to be out of a Jane Austen novel.
But what if Eugene was different in England?
What if this romance faded? But hadn’t it since she met Roger?
If she truly cared about Eugene, she wouldn’t have nearly kissed Roger.
Her fingernails dug into her palms. What is happening to me?
Margaret leaned against his arm. “What do you think? Have I been wooed?”
Eugene paused and dug into his pocket. Margaret’s pulse moved to her throat, and her mouth grew dry.
She tried to swallow, but her throat seemed to have swollen.
He pulled out a black velvet box and opened it, revealing two diamond earrings shaped like flowers, radiating in the sunlight. Margaret’s jaw dropped.
“I saw these the other day, and they reminded me of you.”
Margaret pressed her hand against her chest. “Me? Why so?”
“Because you are a jewel, Margaret. Let me woo you with these diamond earrings.”
In another world, maybe if Margaret were upper class like her parents had been, she would accept them, but her middle-class heart saw this as more than a kind gesture. The earrings must have cost a fortune.
“Eugene, this is too much. How can I—”
Eugene opened her palm and placed the box inside. “It’s a gift. I really like you, Margaret, and I would be honored if you’d accept them.”
Margaret observed her grandmother from her peripherals, smiling and watching them. Margaret managed to swallow and control her shaking hands as she gripped the box.
“Thank you, Eugene. I would be honored to wear these.”
His smile grew, and Margaret managed to smile back.
Why was that so hard to say? Why couldn’t she be like any other girl and melt into him?
It seemed her heart’s desires had shifted.
Perhaps Grandmama was right. She should have focused more on matchmaking than a career.
This game of Grandfather’s had suddenly become more difficult than she had planned.