Chapter Twenty-Four #2
Giuseppe scowled. “Only because we couldn’t find the orange flavoring. And because you wouldn’t let me put hard liquor in it.”
“From what I read, the cider was invented to appease the people who support the Temperance Movement. Your suggestion betrays the cider’s ethos.”
“Stop throwing your big words at me,” Giuseppe said, to which Patrick rolled his eyes.
“Ethos is only five letters long,” Patrick reasoned.
Arthur laughed lightly. “You two have fun. I want to check on Emma.” He turned to Jesse. “Coming?”
“I think I’ll watch them bicker for a little while longer,” Jesse said with a smirk.
Jesse and Giuseppe’s friendship was never not entertaining.
Jesse would probably tease Giuseppe about this incident the next time they were alone.
Or even when Arthur visited their home sometime.
Arthur had been privileged to witness some very lively conversations between the two men over the past few weeks.
“Alright, well, come in whenever you’re ready.
I’m sure Gertrude has started cooking,” Arthur said before looking over at Giuseppe.
“You’re welcome to stay for dinner, Mr. Caputo.
Patrick typically takes his meals here in the carriage house.
You can eat with him there if you’d like, or the two of you can sit with us in the main house. Your choice.”
Giuseppe’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh. Uh, thank you. I’ll consider it.”
Arthur turned and headed back toward the house.
Inside, he found Charlotte practicing needlepoint in the library.
“Where’s Emma?” he asked.
“Upstairs. Reading.” She shot him a slightly teasing look—pausing her needlework and looking up through her lashes with a simpering smile. “Or writing.”
“Did she show you her newspaper, then?” Arthur asked.
“Only briefly. It seems as though I wasn’t important enough to receive my own copy.”
Chuckling, Arthur plopped down on the cushion next to her.
“That’s probably my fault. I told her that we couldn’t print too many of them. In case they somehow found their way into the wrong hands.”
“I think that’s only sensible. Besides, I can read yours, I hope.”
“Emma probably brought Jesse’s and my copies upstairs. I’ll bring one to you later. I can leave it in my study if I can’t find you.”
“Thank you.”
Crossing his arms over his chest, Arthur hummed happily as he leaned backward and melted further into the cushion. He only shut his eyes for a moment before he felt Charlotte stand up, and seconds later, something fell into his lap. He peaked one eye open. It was an envelope.
“What’s this?” he said.
“Your parents are coming tomorrow morning,” she explained. “The letter implies that they have something important to tell you.”
Arthur groaned. “Can’t it wait? Aren’t they coming for dinner in the evening?”
“Even if it can wait, it’s not like you could reply to them in time to ask them to do so. Not unless you want to bother Patrick and have him bring your response right to them.”
“No, no. He’s having fun with Giuseppe. Perhaps I can head over to their house instead,” Arthur suggested. “And then, when I get there, I can tell them that I’m not in the mood to see them.”
“But by going there, you will certainly still see them. Especially now, right before they have dinner. You know they’re home.”
“You and your logic,” Arthur said. “Don’t they know I have to take Emma to church tomorrow?”
“I’ll take her.”
Arthur pouted. “Why must you torture me?”
“Why must you always try to avoid your parents?”
Arthur sighed. “ Well, I suppose I’ll have to endure whatever verbal lashing they want to inflict upon me in the morning, then.”
“I’m sure you can bear it.”
“We’ll see,” Arthur said wearily. “We’ll see.”
***
In the morning, Arthur woke to find Jesse sitting up in bed reading, probably because they had managed to go to sleep early after being worn out from the fair.
The closest curtain had been pulled back just enough to let in sufficient sunlight for him to see the pages of his book.
Arthur reached over and wrapped an arm around Jesse’s midsection.
“Morning,” Arthur rasped, his voice still thick with sleep.
Jesse snapped his book shut and set it on the nightstand.
“Good morning,” he said as he slid back underneath the covers. He turned to face Arthur, and they shared a soft kiss. “I was worried I’d have to wake you myself. Your parents will be here soon, won’t they?”
Groaning wearily, Arthur sat up on his elbow and squinted toward the bedroom clock on the nightstand closest to Jesse, but he couldn’t make out the time.
“Probably,” he said, settling back on the mattress. “Not that I can tell for sure.”
Jesse smiled sweetly. “It’s nine.”
“Nine,” Arthur repeated. “It’s early.”
“It’s not.”
“I think I’ve worn myself out worrying about that letter. It feels early.”
“You’d have had to be up for church soon on any other Sunday.”
“Yes, but seeing my parents requires much more effort than sitting in a pew and letting my mind wander.” He threw Jesse a teasing smile. “Sometimes it wanders to the most sinful places.”
Jesse placed a hand on Arthur’s shoulder and shoved him. “And that is why I never go to church with you. You’ll burst into flames one day. And I’d rather not be there to witness it.”
“Oh, but my heart is already on fire for you,” Arthur said with a playful, lovesick sigh.
“I’m a little surprised you said ‘heart’ rather than loins.”
Arthur chuckled. “See? It’s much too early. I can’t believe I missed that opportunity.”
Both men flinched when someone knocked on the door.
“Mr. Hughes?” Patrick said from the hall. “Your parents are here.”
Arthur let out a soft whine and pouted, hoping for some sympathy, but Jesse only rolled his eyes and shoved him again. Arthur’s pathetic whining transformed into a light laugh as he flopped backward onto the mattress with a sigh.
“Thank you, Patrick!” he called out. “I’ll be there shortly.”
Arthur and Jesse stayed quiet while Patrick’s footsteps retreated. Arthur reached up to touch Jesse’s cheek with his fingertips.
“I’m sorry I have to leave you here,” he said.
“I’m not.”
Arthur bellowed a laugh and sat up, his amusement chasing away some of his dread. Jesse’s honesty was undoubtedly one of his favorite things, especially when it bordered on rudeness. It rarely failed to make Arthur feel better, no matter what it was he was busy being dramatic about.
As Arthur climbed out of bed, Jesse handed him his spectacles. Arthur set them atop his nose and started toward the closet to pick out something suitable to wear, though he briefly contemplated simply showing up for breakfast in a robe.
Once Arthur had finished changing into his outfit, he turned back toward Jesse, and his stomach tightened.
“Are you sure you won’t mind being trapped up here for a while?”
“I’m sure,” Jesse answered with a contented smile. “It’s not as though I could come eat breakfast with you, even if I wanted to. Not unless you’d want to risk losing your parents completely.”
“I know. Still, I feel terrible about how bored you’ll probably be.”
“I won’t be bored. I have my book.”
Jesse held it up as though to illustrate his point. Arthur smiled a little.
“Alright. Perhaps I can make this visit of theirs useful for us, at least. Ease my parents into the idea that I’m friends with one of my pressmen.”
“So, you merely want to flirt with the possibility of abandonment this morning, then.”
“Oh, they won’t suspect anything scandalous,” Arthur said with a flippant wave of his wrist. “And even if they did, neither of them would ever say anything outright as long as the two of us were careful and kept up the ruse of an unlikely friendship. Admitting that their son was involved with a man would be humiliating to them. God, they’d never let themselves say it.
I’d be surprised if they’d ever even let themselves think it. ”
“Regardless, you better get ready to meet them or they’ll be even more irate than they probably already are.”
Arthur wrinkled his nose. “Yes, yes, I know. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Arthur hurried to the bathroom to wash up. Once he was ready, he hurried to the dining room, where he found his parents waiting and sipping tea.
“Sorry,” Arthur blurted out as he approached. He bent to kiss his mother’s cheek. “I slept late.”
“Yes, we can see that,” his mother replied.
Arthur circled around to the other side of the table. His father was sitting at the head in Arthur’s usual spot. As Arthur sat, Gertrude came in with a cup of coffee. She placed it in front of him with a carafe of cream.
“Thank you, Gertrude,” Arthur said with a tip of his head.
Gertrude nodded. “May I get you anything else? I’m making some eggs for your father, and your mother has asked for some fruit.”
“Eggs would be fine. Scrambled, please.”
“Wonderful. I’ll start on them now.”
She left, and Arthur poured some cream into his cup. Before he could lift it to his lips, his father steepled his hands together, and Arthur stilled, freezing with the cup one inch above the table. Slowly, he set it back down.
“So, Arthur, I have an offer for you,” his father said.
Arthur crooked an eyebrow.
“Our family friends, the McCormicks, would like to host a private event at the fair after it closes one evening this summer,” he said.
“I know how upset you were when your shops weren’t chosen for a spot in Machinery Hall.
So, I contacted Albert and asked him if you could tell everyone a bit about your shops when we tour the buildings in the Court of Honor. ”
Arthur’s eyes bulged, excitement flaring to life in his chest and sending his heart aflutter.
“Really?” he spluttered.
Arthur’s father nodded.
Arthur shook his head, bewildered, the brief flare of excitement in his chest momentarily tempered. He couldn’t understand why his father would offer such a thing.
“Why?” he asked skeptically.