“Grace. Theodore,” Oliver said, “I’d like to introduce you to Mr. Wang. He was born and raised in Beijing and studies at Yale. This is my cousin, Miss Grace Covington.”
“If this display is to be believed, your country is more beautiful than I can imagine,” she said, curtsying.
He laughed a little, bowing in acknowledgment. “Even I still don’t have a full grasp of my country’s beauty. But we have done what we can to capture a faint breath of it.”
“You would argue that these fair exhibits are hardly reality, then?” Oliver said. “We don’t actually have temples of corn here in Missouri, after all.”
“Perhaps they do not show the reality, but the ideal,” Mr. Wang said. “And yet what we believe to be ideal shows the reality of who we are.”
“I couldn’t agree more!” Frannie’s date said energetically, coming to join them. “That’s what the fair is all about, isn’t it? Picture this,” he said, his blue eyes alight. “Tonight. A flying contest, pitting the newest machines and the best pilots. The winner has to get their machine around the course three times at twenty miles per hour. It can be a balloon, an aeroplane, a glider—the imagination, if you will allow the pun, soars.”
“We’ll allow it,” Lillie said, smiling. “Won’t we, Grace?”
“Ah, the infamous Grace,” the man said, interest lighting his features. He turned to her with an appraising look. “Earnest has told me all about you.”
Grace couldn’t hide the flush she felt instantly sweep across her cheeks. Frannie’s expression darkened like a storm.
“I’m Laurel,” the man continued, “but everyone calls me Copper. Earnest and I row together. I’m his trainer.”
“Don’t say that,” Frannie said haughtily. “It sounds socommon. You’re much more than his trainer.”
“That’s true, I’m also a runner,” he said. “I’ll be participating in the Olympic Games in a few months.”
Frannie was incensed. “Earnest and Copper were school chums at University of Chicago, and he’s the grandson of agovernor,” she said indignantly, sipping her rice wine.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Grace said.
She stole another look around the room. Theodore was speaking with Harriet and didn’t seem to be looking in their direction at all. Something about that annoyed Grace more than she cared to acknowledge.
“Shall we head outdoors?” Copper asked, taking Frannie by the elbow. “The flight show is about to start.”
They made their way outside. The night was mild, and lanterns hung from the eaves and lined the pathways to the rose gardens andthe sloping roof of the teahouse. The cacophony from the heat of the day had quieted to a pleasant, dull chatter and the gentle tinkling of distant bells. The tea was warm and fragrant in Grace’s hand—jasmine—and the air was pregnant with something. And that’s why part of Grace still wanted to try to be in this world, even though it didn’t want her back. There was always a feeling as though something magnificent could happen at any moment.
She looked over her shoulder again. Earnest was fascinated with aeronautics. He wouldn’t miss this.
Was something wrong?
“Will Earnest be joining us tonight?” Grace asked Copper.
“Are you familiar with the Wright brothers, Miss Covington?” Copper asked, instead of answering.
She smiled. “Of course,” she said. “Their aeroplane was all over the papers in December.”
“I’m told that a new flying machine called theWindshareis going to attempt something similar tonight.”
“Oh?”
Grace chanced one more look around the pavilion for Earnest’s golden head, his bright blue eyes. Maybe he would show up at the last minute? Surely Frannie would have mentioned if he were ill?
“A dirigible called theCalifornia Arrowset the current record in the contest. It was airborne for thirty-seven minutes,” Copper said.
The sun was setting in a striation of pinks to the west when a spotlight from the top of the Whitcomb Publishing building swung toward the sky.
The gathering crowd looked up, rapt, and applause rang out across the courtyard as something began a trajectory. It didn’t look like a regular plane, but something made of silk and a bamboo-like scaffolding taking flight.
Prince Pu Lun stood next to fair President Francis on the pavilion, eyes trained on the sky.
“The future,” Francis said, his eyes shining. “This is what it’s all for.”
