Chapter Five #3
Oliver grinned, his face blotchy. “I’ll give him a hat and this million-dollar view.” He winked at the woman, who huffed and moved toward another part of the car.
“Harriet?” Grace prodded.
She squinted, her eyes shining. She looked utterly, truly happy. “I’ll give him a hat, this million-dollar view”—she looked around the car and settled on the bride—“and that bouquet of baby’s breath.”
“And what will you give him, Miss Covington?” Theo said. A hint of color was beginning to return to his face.
“I’ll give him a hat, a million-dollar view, a wedding bouquet, and… a hearty dose of barbiturates to help for the ride back down.”
Theo snorted. “I never imagined the jealousy I suddenly feel for the soldier from Botany Bay,” he said.
Oliver took Harriet by the hand and pulled her closer to the window. He held her hand proudly as they gazed at the city below.
“Why on earth did you get on the wheel if you’re afraid of heights?” Grace hissed at Theo.
“First of all, it was only a suspicion unconfirmed until now,” he said crossly.
“Glad we’ve gotten to the bottom of that mystery.”
“And second of all, because I needed to talk to you.” He threw a look over his shoulder. “Alone.”
Grace’s stomach dipped. “Alone?” She got a whiff of that scent of him again, smoke and mystery.
Theo leaned close and whispered to her with a sudden, unexpected intimacy. “Do you recognize that woman over there?”
Grace subtly snuck a glance over her shoulder.
“Dark hair?” Theo asked. “Navy hat?”
A nondescript woman was standing on the fringe of the wedding party.
“No,” Grace whispered. She couldn’t help but notice that he was very close to her.
He whispered in her ear, his breath tickling her neck. “She’s been watching us.”
“I don’t find that hard to believe, as you, Oliver, and Harriet have been taking turns making a scene.”
He scowled at her. “But I noticed her earlier this afternoon, too, when we were at the Grand Basin, and she was watching us then. I actually think she’s been following us since last night.”
A warning prickled down Grace’s spine. She didn’t know if it was a lingering sense of unsettledness from the airshow explosion but she hadn’t been able to shake her feeling of disquiet.
“Following who?” she asked. “You? Me?”
Harriet?
Was this somehow connected to the man who had approached Harriet last night?
Harriet seemed oblivious. Lost in love with Oliver.
But there was that strange interaction last night with the man she claimed not to know. Was she caught up in something else?
“I saw the woman board the car with the three of you and I just… bought a ticket and got on, too,” Theo said. “Like a bloody idiot.”
Grace looked at his trembling hands clutching the side rail. So Theodore Parker was the sort of person who would face his worst fears to protect his friends.
To protect Oliver.
Her chest unexpectedly warmed again.
Grace stole another look at the woman, who did seem to be subtly watching Harriet and Oliver. But she just as easily could have been looking at the view of St. Louis out the window.
Perhaps they were all feeling paranoid, still unsettled by Earnest’s crash, and that’s all it was.
“Hurray!” The car erupted in cheers as the bride and groom kissed, and the guests threw rice into the air. The carriage creaked and came to a stop.
Theodore was the first to exit the car when the doors pulled open.
He was waiting for the rest of them at the ticket booth, clutching a brown paper bag when they disembarked.
“For you,” he said to Grace. “A thank-you for helping me keep my wits about me up there.”
She pulled out a small silver spoon with 1904 WORLD’S FAIR engraved in it.
“It’s a souvenir,” he said with a deathly straight face. “Given how you’re so obsessed with cutlery.”
“How thoughtful. I got you a souvenir, too,” she said, thrusting the paper bag back into his hands.
“‘World’s Fair Gift Shop,’” he read the outside slowly. “You shouldn’t have.”
“It’s a sick bag,” she said, “to commemorate your Ferris wheel ride.”
His jaw muscle flexed. “It’s too bad such a devastating tongue hides behind such a lovely face.”
She paused. For a moment, she was too surprised to say anything back.
He shot her a dry look, clutching his sick bag with as much dignity as he could muster, and strode away.
“Try some Dubonnet,” Oliver said that evening. Light from the setting sun poured into the sitting room, where they were lounging on the formal chairs.
Lillie let her overstuffed corgi Lulu climb into her lap on the settee, which she had been expressly forbidden to do. She had changed into a simpler day skirt and plain blouse because she was planning to help Dr. May later that night.
“What’s Dubonnet?” Grace asked.
Oliver poured the drink into his glass. “It has herbs, spices, and a bit of… je ne sais quoi.”
“Otherwise known as quinine,” Lillie said.
“Quinine?” Grace asked. “You can’t be serious.”
“Mm. It’s spicy. Almost bitter,” Oliver said. “I like it.”
Oliver poured the last of the bottle into Lillie’s glass. “It’s what gives it a bit of a bite.”
Lillie dumped hers in the potted plant.
“I should go check on Frannie,” she said meaningfully to Grace.
“That’s a good idea,” Oliver said, missing the glance that passed between them. “I’ll come with you. I want to check in on Earnest. How about it, Grace?”
“Oh, let’s don’t. I’m sure he’s sleeping, Oliver,” Grace said quickly. “Besides, I was hoping you’d stay home with me. I want to play a game of chess.”
“Well, if you’re sure,” Lillie said. Thank you, she mouthed to Grace.
And then she was gone.
“You wish a chance to win back your dignity?” Oliver asked, moving to set up the chess game.
“If it can possibly be reconstructed,” Grace said. “Last time you left it in tatters.”
Oliver was laughing into his Dubonnet when Aunt Clove suddenly appeared at the bottom of the stairs.
She moved into the sitting room, and it was as though a shadow passed. The laughter died on Grace’s lips.
Aunt Clove stood and examined them. The silence was uncomfortable.
“I know,” she said bitterly to them.
Grace’s hand paused on a chess piece.
Oliver went a little pale, but he turned to face his mother with an attempt at his usual charismatic smile.
“You know what, Mother?” he asked.
“I know about your deceit. That you’ve been gallivanting around town like a fool with that harlot of an actress.”
The color drained from Oliver’s face. “M-Mother—”
“And you,” Aunt Clove said, turning her wrath on Grace. “You knew. You ungrateful, scheming conspirator. This is your influence. Your bags are packed. You’ll be leaving tonight.”
“Mother, this is ridiculous. You’re mistaken—”
“I saw you. You were hardly discrete.”
Oliver laughed in shock. “You’re not about to throw Grace out on the street,” he said.
Aunt Clove’s voice was like ice. “I am.”
“Go ahead,” Oliver said. “Then we can explain to Lillie exactly where Grace is and why she went.”
He turned protectively to his cousin. “Don’t worry, Grace. If she insists on carrying through with this nonsensical threat, I’ll get you a hotel room in the nicest part of town.”
“And whose money will be paying for it?” Aunt Clove asked. “You spend it like it’s yours, Oliver. But it won’t be, not until I’m dead.” She took a threatening step toward him.
“And if you continue dallying with this girl, I’ll make sure you won’t see a dime of it.”
“I’m going to marry her,” Oliver declared.
“No,” Aunt Clove said, her fury roiling like the hot breath of a bellows stoking a flame. “You are the future of this family, Oliver Henry Carter. And so no, you are not marrying that girl. So help me God, over my dead body, you are not.”