“Do you think he’ll be all right?” she asked.
She had worried that she might only like Earnest for what he could give her. A way to stay in her cousins’ lives, to vindicate her mother, or the simple flattery of someone from his station paying attention to her. But the horror of that night had made her realize that she really did like him. She admired him. She liked his lack of pretense, his enthusiasm and joy, the way he threw himself headfirst into things. She liked—
“Harriet Forbes?” A man appeared at their table, making Grace startle. He was tall, with sharp cheekbones and wide-set eyes. There was a hungry look about him that immediately set Grace on edge.
“Sam Whitcomb.” He stuck out his hand to shake, and it took Grace half a moment to place why his name sounded familiar. In her mind’s eye she saw herself that morning, stooping to the ground. Smoothing out the crumpled paper.
TheFair’s Fareby Sam Whitcomb.
“You publish the gossip rag!” Grace said in surprise.
Sam Whitcomb turned to her with a slow smile that built like a wave. Something about it attracted and repelled her at the same time.
Theodore was lighting a cigar at the bar. He sauntered toward them, taking his time, but he had a distinct mood about him. Like the dark cloud Grace had glimpsed at that party in Chicago the previous winter.
“Sam Whitcomb,” the publisher greeted him, reaching out a hand.
“Theodore Parker,” he replied coolly.
“Oh, I know who you are,” Sam said, grinning.
Theo scowled, subtly touching the place on his chin where the port-wine stain stretched along his jawline. Almost as though he were self-conscious. The realization struck her with surprise.
“May I join you?” Sam asked, sitting down at their table without waiting for an answer. He signaled the waiter for a drink. “Everyone’s talking about that explosion of the balloon tonight.”
“It was a much more sophisticated piece of machinery than a mere balloon,” Theo said witheringly. He might not have known Earnest for long, but it was apparent that Theodore Parker had a penchant for loyalty. He took a drag of his cigar, meeting Grace’s eyes for a moment as if to say,I wish this insufferable imbecile would leave.
Surprised, Grace felt the ghost of a smile.
“It was your friend who was in it tonight, wasn’t it?” Sam leaned forward, picking through their fried potatoes.
“Help yourself,” Theo said with a perfected disdain.
“I’m hearing people surmise that it was sabotage,” Sam said, chewing.
Grace’s stomach turned. “People think the crash was intentional?”
A look of grotesque delight crossed Sam’s face. “It wouldn’t be the first mishap for that event. The only thing steeper than the ascent and the entrance fee is the size of the prize money at stake.”
“How much is the prize money?” Harriet asked. She touched the heavy earrings that dripped from her lobes.
“One hundred fifty thousand dollars.”
Harriet’s jaw dropped. Theo’s face remained unreadable.
“They have to complete a course that some pilots say simply can’t be done,” Sam continued. “Some dropped out, others are finding unfortunate mishaps are happening along the way.”
“Mishaps?” Grace asked.
“Two of the other competing machines were balloons that were found slashed. Another caught on an errant nail and lost all its hydrogen. And tonight, Mr. Allred’s machine falls from the sky in a blaze. Coincidence?”
The music was loud, the room growing warmer. Grace fought the feeling of dizziness again.
Harriet looked troubled. “What kind of a person would try to murder someone for money?”
“You must not read my paper much,” Sam Whitcomb said with a dark laugh. A sick feeling settled into Grace’s stomach, much like the time her grandfather had closed the door in her face when she was seven. Lillie had given her a hand-me-down doll that day with adelicate porcelain face and a satin dress. Grace had taken it back to Kansas City, where it made her own beloved muslin doll look so plain and pitiful.
In a rage, Grace had spat on her muslin doll and stomped on her face until she was ruined.
