Page 9

Chicago

The new year blew in on Arctic winds that brought the first heavy snows of the winter and left Emily with a bad cold that saw her stuck to the bed for a week.

Annie did her best to be sympathetic, but she was too busy being courted by John Gale to be at Emily’s beck and call.

Emily didn’t mind. She was happy to be left alone.

She groaned at the burst of daylight as Annie flung open the drapes and flopped onto the bed beside her. She was still wearing last night’s dress and the silver shoes Emily had surprised her with for Christmas, and which she’d barely taken off since.

“You made it home last night, then?”

“Of course. John respects me that way. I told you, he’s a gentleman.

” Annie pressed her hand to Emily’s forehead.

“Temperature’s almost back to normal.” She peered at Emily’s face.

“You still look like hell, but much better than you did a few days ago. You should get out for some air today. Blow the cobwebs away.”

“Do I have to?”

“Yes. We’re having a dinner party next week.”

“We are?”

“Not us ! Me and John. He’s celebrating a business deal.”

Emily felt a little foolish. Of course it was Annie and John’s dinner party.

It had been Annie and John everything since their first dinner date.

John had enchanted Annie with his generosity and flattery and old-fashioned courtship.

Older than Annie by ten years, and a widower, having lost his wife to the influenza, John Gale had inherited his father’s railroad fortunes, and was now a successful businessman in his own right.

“And Henry’s coming,” Annie added. “So you have to make an effort.”

Emily groaned. “You’re not still trying to fix me up with John’s cousin?”

Annie smiled. “Trust me, he’s lovely. I’ll even let you wear my new perfume.

” She lifted a beautiful glass bottle from the dressing table.

A Christmas gift from John. She spritzed a cloud of perfume into the air and twirled around beneath it.

“It’s called Habanita, by Molinard. All the flappers use it.

Isn’t it delicious!” Her exaggerated French accent made Emily laugh.

“Wear this and dear sweet Henry won’t be able to resist you! ”

—

The following week, Emily arrived at John Gale’s impressive South Shore row house and took a moment to check her reflection in the beveled glass panels of the ebony door.

The wind tugged at her red velvet cloche as she rehearsed a confident smile.

She looked pretty, all traces of her sickness finally lifted.

Her eyes were bright, her cheeks attractively flushed with the cold, but her heart wasn’t really in it.

She would stay long enough to be polite and then make her excuses to leave.

She lifted the heavy iron knocker and rapped twice. She was about to add one more knock, for luck, when the door was opened by the housekeeper, an overbearing Polish woman called Marta, whom Annie had told her about and was a little afraid of.

Emily stepped inside. She took a moment to admire the décor as Marta took her hat and coat: the fleur-de-lis ceiling rose, the glittering chandelier, the soft light cast from Tiffany glass wall sconces. The best of everything. It was even grander than Annie had described.

“Well, don’t you look absolutely divine!” Annie floated down the long entrance hall and kissed Emily on the cheek. She’d arrived earlier to get everything ready. “The green dress was the perfect choice. Emerald to enchant! Dear Henry will be smitten!”

“Is he here?” Emily had partly hoped he wouldn’t be. She was oddly nervous about meeting him after all Annie’s talk.

“Arrived early, and sporting a new mustache. He looks ever so handsome!”

“Here. For you.” Emily handed Annie a posy of Christmas roses. She was a little embarrassed by their simplicity compared to the extravagant floral displays in John’s home.

“They’re so pretty! Thank you.” Annie asked Marta to put them in a vase and told her that Emily was the last of the guests.

Emily found it amusing to see Annie acting like the lady of the house, but she did it very well.

She followed Annie to an elegant dining room, which was already full of smartly attired guests who all seemed to know one another.

The hum of conversation and laughter filled the room, but it was toward a tall man, standing beside the fireplace, that Emily’s eyes were drawn.

She could feel his gaze follow her as Annie led her through the awkward process of introductions and small talk with John’s self-important business colleagues and their dull wives, until they eventually made their way to the far end of the room.

“And this is John’s cousin Henry,” Annie said brightly. “Henry, this is my sister Emily. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to check on progress in the kitchen.”

Henry shook Emily’s hand. “It’s very nice to meet you, finally. Your sister has told me all about you. You were certainly missed at John’s New Year’s party. I hope you’re feeling better.”

“I am, thank you. I heard it was quite the night.”

He smiled. “John’s parties always are. These business dinners, on the other hand, can be quite an ordeal. I’m always relieved when they’re over.”

Emily felt her shoulders relax, glad to know she wasn’t the only one silently dreading it. “Do you know everyone here?”

“Thankfully not.” He lowered his voice as he leaned closer to Emily’s ear. “Business this and politics that and let’s all congratulate one another on being enormously successful. Between you and me, I find it all a bit dull.”

Emily was surprised. She’d assumed Henry was a businessman, like John.

“I’d much rather be getting my hands dirty,” Henry continued. “Building something real. This is all just make-believe.”

Emily’s heart quickened. She already felt drawn to his playful humor, the crinkle of his eyes, the curve of his smile.

“You look very pretty, by the way,” he added as both their glasses were refilled with champagne. “The green suits you.”

“Thank you.” For a moment, she didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had complimented her so nicely, so naturally. “I like your mustache,” she said eventually. “Very Valentino.”

He narrowed his eyes and smoldered dramatically. “You’re very kind, but I think we both know it’s really more Chaplin than Valentino.” He twirled an imaginary cane in his hand and waddled his feet.

Emily laughed. “You’re right. Definitely more Chaplin!”

Henry held her gaze for a moment and raised his glass to hers as they were called to take their seats at the table. “Here’s to surviving the night, Miss Emily. Good luck.”

“Amen to that. We could always escape after the fish course? Make a run for it.”

His eyes sparkled. “Too obvious. Meet you beneath the table after dessert. We’ll crawl our way out. They’ll be too drunk to notice by then.”

Dinner was an impressive performance of consommés and souffles and rich dishes with fussy names that Emily didn’t have an appetite for.

She was too restless to eat, picking her way around each perfectly presented plate as her eyes searched for Henry’s across the table.

The conversation oscillated between business and politics, all of which Emily found tiresome.

She was glad of the distraction Henry offered while John held court and Annie played house.

Much younger than his cousin, Henry Gale didn’t share John’s bombastic extravagance.

It was his quiet assurance and refreshing honesty that drew Emily to him, and despite her plan to leave at the first opportunity, she found that she was happy to stay, eager to find out more about this intriguing man.

John refilled Henry’s wineglass as the conversation turned to the expansion of the railroads and the thousands of folk turning their hand to farming the Great Plains.

“My cousin here plans to work the land. Turn wheat into gold, or some such fairy tale,” John scoffed.

“I keep telling him to invest in industry. Shares are soaring and the economy’s booming.

You’re a banking man, Henry. You must see the gains being made on the commodity markets.

Steel, coal, manufacturing. That’s where the future lies, not in wheat and corn. ”

“I’m a bank clerk , John. I process paperwork.

Stamp forms for loans and debts. It pays a decent wage, but it haunts my soul.

” Henry turned to the rest of the table.

“As you’ll all be aware, my cousin doesn’t have a soul, which is why a life of hard commerce suits him perfectly.

I’m quite sure that if you tapped his chest there would be an echo where his heart should be. ”

Everyone laughed at that.

John explained how his and Henry’s fathers—estranged brothers—had followed very different paths.

“My father made his fortune on the railroads. Henry’s father followed his heart toward a farming life in the Texas panhandle.

I’ll let you draw your own conclusions as to whose father made the wiser choice. ”

Henry talked fondly of his parents, expressing his admiration for their resilience and determination and the years of hard work it had taken to build their farm from nothing.

A man seated beside Henry was interested.

“What are your plans, Henry? Pick up a free claim, or take your chances on one of the old ranch plots they’re selling off for forty-five dollars apiece? Seems to me they’re mostly selling a lot of hot air.”

Henry nodded. “That’s exactly what they’re selling.

First you see the brochures from the developers, then you see the developers locked up for fraud.

I have no intention of joining the no-man’s-land nesters, or the sodbusters in their Dalhart dugouts.

I’m saving up to buy my own plot on the Great Plains—Kansas or Oklahoma—although at this rate there won’t be any land left by the time I can afford it.

I have plans to farm in a more modern way. Invest in combustion engine machinery.”

“Sounds impressive.”

“Farming has progressed a long way since the hand plows and horse-drawn plows of my parents’ generation.

The new machines do most of the heavy work in a fraction of the time.

More efficient farming means more crops sown and higher yields come the harvest. Seems like good business sense to me, and if there’s a more beautiful place to call home, then I’d like to see it.

Those enormous endless skies, the swaying oceans of wheat… It’s enough to reduce a man to tears.”

Emily listened attentively. Henry was so animated when he talked about the prairie and his plans to build a life there.

There was something intoxicating about his determination, a power in the way he spoke about the beauty of the place and the pull of an honest day’s work.

It reminded her of her mother’s dream of seeing Kansas one day.

“I believe it’s a very hard life, Henry,” Annie offered.

“It isn’t for the fainthearted, that’s for sure. Nobody farms for an easy life. My father always said it was an addiction, a love affair between a man and his claim.”

“Or a woman and her claim,” Emily added. “We mustn’t forget the farmers’ wives.”

Henry smiled. “Quite right. I’ve never met a successful farmer who didn’t have a strong woman beside him.”

His gaze lingered on Emily’s a moment more than was necessary.

“You wouldn’t really leave the city, would you, Henry?” Annie asked. “Give it all up and start over?”

“I would, Annie. In a heartbeat. When the time is right.” He glanced at Emily again as he took a sip from his glass. “Farming is a life that chooses the person, rather than the other way around. Once you feel the pull, it’s hard to ignore.”

“Oh, I’d find it perfectly easy to ignore,” Annie said, laughing. “Our parents left behind a life of living off the land to search for something better. We would never go back to that way of living, would we, Emily?”

“I think it’s an admirable life,” Emily said, meeting Henry’s gaze. “A life of risk and reward. Not unlike your business investments, John. But with more dirt.”

At this, everyone laughed, and the conversation moved on, but Emily’s attention lingered on the man across the table, and her thoughts strayed to the big skies and fields of golden wheat he had described as if reading from her mother’s pamphlet.

She enjoyed the evening so much that she was sorry when the last of the dishes were cleared, the last of the wine was drunk, and the guests began to make their way home.

Henry helped her into her coat as they stepped outside.

“Well, that was surprisingly enjoyable,” he said. “Thanks to you.” He reached for her hand. “Could I take you out for a proper meal one evening? Something simple to eat and easy to pronounce. Spaghetti and meatballs? A diner milkshake and fries? Or pizza, if you prefer?”

Emily’s heart danced. “I’d like that.”

“Which one?”

“Everything.”

His eyes crinkled as he smiled. “Everything sounds good to me.”

She felt the prickle of fate as they held each other’s gaze.

It was as intoxicating and thrilling as any circus sideshow.

Henry Gale was the difference, the change, the adventure she’d been looking for.

She felt the same sensation she’d sensed in Annie all those years ago when Leonardo had given her the hourglass on her sixteenth birthday, and she’d first felt the great and powerful sensation of being in love.

It was crazy to feel so certain when she’d only just met him, but there was no point in denying what she felt in her heart.

With Henry, she would chase her wildest dreams; follow the road she was meant to take.

“We all need a dream,” her mother had once said when Emily had asked her why she’d kept the pamphlet about the prairie all those years. “We all need something magical to guide us, something bigger to hope for, a reason to believe that the impossible might just become possible after all.”

Golden fields of wheat as far as the eye can see, herds of wild horses, a creek to bathe in on a warm spring day…