“I know. Still, I feel terrible about how bored you’ll probably be.”
“I won’t be bored. I have my book.”
Jesse held it up as though to illustrate his point. Arthur smiled a little.
“Alright. Perhaps I can make this visit of theirs useful for us, at least. Ease my parents into the idea that I’m friends with one of my pressmen.”
“So, you merely want toflirtwith the possibility of abandonment this morning, then.”
“Oh, they won’t suspect anything scandalous,” Arthur said with a flippant wave of his wrist. “And even if they did, neither of them would ever say anything outright as long as the two of us were careful and kept up the ruse of an unlikely friendship. Admitting that their son was involved with a man would be humiliating to them. God, they’d never let themselves say it. I’d be surprised if they’d ever even let themselvesthink it.”
“Regardless, you better get ready to meet them or they’ll be even more irate than they probably already are.”
Arthur wrinkled his nose. “Yes, yes, I know. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Arthur hurried to the bathroom to wash up. Once he was ready, he hurried to the dining room, where he found his parents waiting and sipping tea.
“Sorry,” Arthur blurted out as he approached. He bent to kiss his mother’s cheek. “I slept late.”
“Yes, we can see that,” his mother replied.
Arthur circled around to the other side of the table. His father was sitting at the head in Arthur’s usual spot. As Arthur sat, Gertrude came in with a cup of coffee. She placed it in front of him with a carafe of cream.
“Thank you, Gertrude,” Arthur said with a tip of his head.
Gertrude nodded. “May I get you anything else? I’m making some eggs for your father, and your mother has asked for some fruit.”
“Eggs would be fine. Scrambled, please.”
“Wonderful. I’ll start on them now.”
She left, and Arthur poured some cream into his cup. Before he could lift it to his lips, his father steepled his hands together, and Arthur stilled, freezing with the cup one inch above the table. Slowly, he set it back down.
“So, Arthur, I have an offer for you,” his father said.
Arthur crooked an eyebrow.
“Our family friends, the McCormicks, would like to host a private event at the fair after it closes one evening this summer,” he said. “I know how upset you were when your shops weren’t chosen for a spot in Machinery Hall. So, I contacted Albert and asked him if you could tell everyone a bit about your shops when we tour the buildings in the Court of Honor.”
Arthur’s eyes bulged, excitement flaring to life in his chest and sending his heart aflutter.
“Really?” he spluttered.
Arthur’s father nodded.
Arthur shook his head, bewildered, the brief flare of excitement in his chest momentarily tempered. He couldn’t understand why his father would offer such a thing.
“Why?” he asked skeptically.
“I thought it could be an opportunity for you to recover from that strange party you threw,” his father said. Arthur’s cheeks warmed. So, his father was only making the offer because Arthur had embarrassed him. Again. “Not that either of your shops are particularly impressive, but I thought that maybe this would be something. It’s a chance for us to remind our friends of your recent purchase and thereby remind them of your growing influence on Chicago’s printing industry.” He sighed. “Like I said, it’s something.”
Arthur frowned, furrowing his brow. He ought to have been insulted. And hewas, a little. But Arthur could see how important this was to his father. His father wouldn’t have asked Mr. McCormick to include him in the event in this way had it not been. Being Warren Hughes’s son, Arthur would have been invited to the private party regardless, but Mr. McCormick wouldn’t have even looked Arthur’s way while they toured the Palace of Mechanical Arts. In all likelihood, Mr. McCormick would have had one of the fair’s organizers provide a tour and talk about each of the exhibits, including the printing presses. Probably one of the organizers stillwouldbe there. But now Arthur would have a chance to remind everyone, as his father had sokindlyput it, that he was a business owner and that his own shops had nearly made it into the fair as well. Arthur wasn’t sure whether he’d go as far as to say that he had any influence on the printing industry, but that was clearly something that his father had been telling himself, if only so that he could pretend that his son was known for something other than impregnating Ella Thompson out of wedlock.
Arthur forced a smile. “Thank you, Father. It’s a very kind offer. I’ll consider it.”
“Good,” his father said curtly. He shifted in his chair. “Now where’s our food?”
Arthur fought back an irritated huff. “Gertrude will be here any moment, I’m sure.”
