Arthur smiled warmly. But his slow speech and neutral tone of voice had betrayed him. Because Jesse knew from the monotone nature of Arthur’s reply—so much the opposite of his typical pattern of speech—that he must not have been exactly thrilled with the idea. And Jesse couldn’t blame him. Because his stupid half-formed invention was exactly that—half finished. It wasn’t enough.
“I know it’s not ready to be patented,” Jesse said, a heavy feeling of embarrassment and shame settling in his stomach. “But I thought that maybe the idea itself was... something.”
“Itis, Jesse,” Arthur said. “I certainly couldn’t have come up with something like this. Actually...” He paused and tapped his lips “If you can figure out how to make it work, I could potentially hire a machine shop to make it in time for the exhibit.” Arthur’s eyes brightened, and his smile widened. “Yes, I could unveil it atthe fair! Oh, now thatwouldbe something! Even if we couldn’t cobble together a patent in time, it would still be fantastic!”
Jesse’s heart fluttered from a mixture of nervousness and excitement, even as his stomach was still twisting from self-reproach over having shown Arthur the half-finished creation in the first place.
“I’ll, uhm, I’ll try,” Jesse said, putting as much confidence into his words as he could muster.
Arthur took Jesse’s face in his hands, letting the sketch of the modified printing press flutter to the floor.
“What a remarkable man you are, Mr. O’Connor.”
Jesse shut his eyes to bask in the magnificence of Arthur’s words. And, for maybe the first time since they’d met, he let himself believe in them. He let himself believe that maybe Chicago’s wonderful and wonderfully eccentric Arthur Hughes really, truly thought that of him.
Jesse touched his lips to Arthur’s.
And then, in the middle of his too-tiny bedroom, in the middle of his too-tiny home, Jesse O’Connor, a man who often felt as though he had nothing, let himself fall in love with a man who had everything.
And he prayed that he was enough.
Chapter Eleven
Arthur
Hours later, Arthur returned home to find Charlotte and Emma together in the library. Emma was sitting on a high-backed chair writing in a notebook, while Charlotte was nearby reading on the sofa. Arthur came into the room clutching the rolled-up sketch of the improved Gordon Jobber, which he then raised up with a flourish as he stepped through the threshold.
“I’m in possession of the very thing that will tip the scales in my favor for being part of the World’s Columbian Exposition,” he stated. “Do you two want to see it?”
“Not really,” Emma said.
“Emma,” Charlotte warned as she set her book on the cushion (though Arthur could see the faintest hint of a smile pulling at her lips). “Yes, we wouldloveto see it.”
Arthur flicked it open, only for it to curl back in on itself immediately.
“I thought that would look exciting, rather than sad,” Arthur said before reopening it. Grinning, he held it out for them both to see. “Isn’t it incredible?”
“I’m not sure what it is I’m looking at, exactly,” Charlotte said, squinting.
“It’s a Gordon Jobber! Modified!Improved!”
Emma wrinkled her nose. “What’s a Gordon Jobber?”
“Right.” He should have led with that. “It’s a type of printing press, one that’s typically only operated by a single person at a time. It’s used for small jobs. Hence the title, ‘Jobber.’”
“Didyoudraw that?” Charlotte asked.
“Me?! No, no, no. I could never. Mr. O’Connor did. He’s... oh, he’sbrilliant!” Arthur sucked in fast a breath. He was practically bursting out of his skin from the surge of happiness. “Years back, Mr. O’Connor came up with a potential way to improve the one we have in my new print shop. And I shall present it to Mr. Burnham someday. Hopefully in the near future. Unfortunately, it’s not likely that it’ll be ready before Mr. Russell visits in... Charlotte, when’s he supposed to come?”
Charlotte pursed her lips to think. “Hmm... this Thursday? No, next Thursday.”
“Ah, well, that probably won’t be enough time for poor Jesse to finish it. See, as the sketch is right now, Jesse says the press won’t work if manufactured. But he seems to think that he can figure out how to fix whatever potential problems it has. Isn’t that exciting?! God, he’s incredible, Charlotte. Truly.” Arthur hopped once on the balls of his feet. “Now, this—this—will impress my parents, especially my father. Oh, and it’ll impress everyone else as well. Can youimaginehow the McCormicks and the Vernes and the Palmers and even your relatives will react to seeing such a thing?! Yes, that’s right, Conway and Martha Fields, your wonderful daughter Charlotte is employed by an innovator. Or, well, a man who helped toinspirean innovator, which is close enough seeing as I’m the one who owns the man’s print shop and will be paying for the spot in the fair. Finally, people will remember me for something other than...” His eyes flitted over to Emma, and he caught himself. “Well, other than my past social missteps.”
Satisfied that he’d talked around his near slip of the tongue, Arthur smiled harder and rolled the paper back up. He set it on one of the shelves of the closest bookcase.
“I think this calls for a celebration. We ought to have a party. Yes, a—a spring party! In... in—”
“The spring?” Emma quipped with a smirk.
