After the forme was finished, Jesse offered to show Emma how to work the press.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t want me to show her?” Arthur teased. “I came up with that phenomenal improvement, remember?”
“You mean tossing the papers on the floor once they’re finished?”
“Precisely,” Arthur said through a chuckle.
Huffing a laugh, Jesse shook his head. “Uhm, no. I think it’s best if Emma learns the proper technique, especially since she wants to work for a newspaper someday.”
“Would I have to work the presses myself?” Emma asked.
“Probably not. Unless both the newspaperandthe shop were incredibly small, though I can’t see how one like that would ever make enough money to stay open,” he said. “Not in this economy, anyway.”
“Well, I’m still eager to try it,” Emma said confidently.
Jesse smiled warmly in return. His smile was so genuine, so kind, that it served to fan the flames of love burning in Arthur’s chest. The most beautiful, comforting warmth spread to every other part of his body, making his toes tingle and his eyes tear. God, he loved these two people. He loved them so completely. And it was positively wonderful to see them interacting like this.
“Be careful not to let your hand linger there between the bed and the platen,” Jesse warned Emma before his eyes flickered over to Arthur. “Wouldn’t want it getting crushed.”
“Seems obvious,” Emma said to which Jesse snickered.
Arthur threw Jesse a look of playful irritation.
“It’s easy to forget yourself while you’re working on the press,” Arthur said. “Trust me.”
With Jesse’s help, Emma started up the press. She printed four copies of her article: one for herself, one for Lizzie, one for Arthur, and one for Jesse. Each time Emma removed a finished paper, Arthur’s thoughts kept on circling back to Jesse’s invention. It was a shame that he hadn’t been able to present it to folks who might have seen its value. Frowning and furrowing his brow, Arthur mentally put the notion aside for the future. Something to revisit once the excitement of the fair was behind them, maybe.
After Emma was finished printing her informal newspaper, Jesse had to work on preparing the formes for the real one. Luckily, Jesse was nothing if not quick. After he was finished, the three of them traveled back to Arthur’s home on Prairie Avenue by streetcar. Arthur had let Patrick have this Saturday to himself.
When they reached home, they found Patrick and Giuseppe sitting outside the carriage house, both of them relaxing on wooden folding chairs, conversing and enjoying what looked to be lemonade. Or perhaps cider?
As Emma hurried inside, Arthur and Jesse walked over to the carriage house to see them.
“Giuseppe?” Jesse asked, his mouth twisting up into a confused half-smile.
Giuseppe’s head swiveled, and his eyes widened in surprise, a faint pink hue coloring his face as though he’d been caught sneaking treats. But then, Giuseppe shook his head once, maybe to rid himself of the mixture of whatever he’d been feeling, and smiled back.
“Jess, here, try this,” he said, thrusting the tumbler into Jesse’s hands. “Patrick and I tried to recreate that cider that was being served at the fair.”
Jesse took a sip and hummed. “It’s close, but it’s missing something.”
“Orange extract,” Patrick said with a sigh. “We couldn’t find it anywhere.”
“Still tasty,” Jesse said, handing it to Arthur.
Arthur took a sip. Itwasclose. Perhaps too sweet, though.
“Good effort,” he said, handing it back.
Giuseppe curled his lip while Patrick chuckled.
“He’s offended because he’s the one who wanted to try to make it ourselves,” Patrick said. “He put entirely too much sugar in it, too.”
Giuseppe scowled. “Only because we couldn’t find the orange flavoring.Andbecause 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.
