“Of course,” she repeated, her tone carrying a mixture of mockery and fondness.
Gleefully, Arthur rubbed his hands together.
“Alright, then, I shall talk to Gertrude and see what kinds of foods she can pack that I can then take over to Putnam. Will you—”
“I will talk with Patrick. I’ll make sure he knows this is for averyimportant business matter.”
Arthur kissed her cheek. “Thank you,” he said sincerely before rushing off.
One and half hours later, shortly before noon, Arthur hopped out of his carriage, exuberance bubbling in his chest. He was feeling so very excited about finally seeing Jesse again that he was finding it difficult not to ruin his charade by letting out a euphoric shriek as he strode toward the building.
Arthur walked into the print shop with what he hoped was only a moderately large smile and slight pep in his step.
Jesse’s eyes found him immediately, and he slowed the Gordon Jobber to a stop.
“Mr. O’Connor!” Arthur called out, raising his hand. “Have you taken your break yet? Because I was hoping that the two of us could find some time to talk about the World’s Columbian Exposition.”
Jesse crooked an eyebrow, a tentative-looking smiling pulling at the corners of his lips. “Uhm... no, I haven’t.”
Mr. Stevenson rushed over, and Jesse’s forehead wrinkled with worry.
“Ah, Mr. Stevenson,” Arthur said, smiling harder. “Good morning.”
“Good morning, Mr. Hughes. I hadn’t expected you to come by today.”
“I hadn’t planned on it. But I received some... news recently.” Arthur cleared his throat. “About the fair. And I was hoping that Mr. O’Connor here could come with me to my other shop for a while. I need to talk with him about the exhibits. He may be helping me present on the, ehm, the presses we have here, as well as the ones I have over at Hughes. Now, I know he must have plenty of work, but I promise not to keep him too long.”
“I can stay late to finish up as well,” Jesse blurted out. “If I need to, that is.”
“Oh. Well, uhm, yes, then, that would be fine.” Mr. Stevenson checked the clock. “It’s nearly lunchtime anyway.”
Arthur clasped his hands together and bowed. “Thank you, Mr. Stevenson.”
Had Arthur needed to remind the man who owned the press, he would have, but thankfully, it hadn’t come to that.
As Mr. Stevenson walked away, Jesse shot Arthur a puzzled look. Arthur merely grinned. With a shake of his head, Jesse headed over to the coat and hat racks to put on his winter wear. Once Jesse was ready, the two stepped outside into the frigid cold.
“Do youreallyhave something to tell me about the fair?” Jesse asked through a shiver.
“No. But I needed to see you,” Arthur said. “I missed you, Jesse.”
Jesse’s face reddened as the wind whipped past, and Arthur wondered if it was mostly from the compliment or from the cold. Arthur pointed ahead to his waiting carriage.
“I brought us some lunch. I thought that we could eat together while Patrick takes us through the city, preferably through my neighborhood since it’s fairly empty right now.”
“It’s empty because it’sfreezingout here,” Jesse said as his teeth began to chatter.
“I’ll warm you up. I promise. I packed an absurd number of blankets in the carriage.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“I know.”
After a few more paces, they reached the carriage, and Patrick opened the door for them.
“Thank you, Patrick,” Arthur said kindly as he stepped inside.
“Anytime, Mr. Hughes,” Patrick replied with a smile, his cheeks and nose both rosy red.
