Jesse looked up at the Administration Building. “Not really.”
“Not this specific building. I mean everything here.”
“Yeah, a little,” Jesse replied with a shrug.
“Peoplediedfor this, you know.”
Jesse rolled his eyes. “I know. Because you told me already.Fifty times.”
“Clearly it’s not sinking in.”
“Why? Because I keep coming back?” Jesse asked, and Giuseppe made an “of course” kind of face. “It’s fun. You’ll see. Some of the things they have here reallyareinteresting.”
“Well, if it’s a terrible experience, I’ll never forgive you for bringing me. I swear I won’t ever help you with that fucking furnace again.”
Jesse cocked an eyebrow. “How’s that different from now?”
Giuseppe shoved him half-heartedly. “Shut it.”
Arthur’s booming voice broke through the crowd and interrupted their teasing.
“Mr. O’Connor!” he called out, holding one of his hands high as he waded through the sea of people.
Jesse pursed his lips slightly to try to temper his smile. “Mr. O’Connor” had turned into a term of endearment, really, one that was equally as romantic as sweetheart or love or every other thing that Jesse had heard people use.
“Good afternoon,Mr. Hughes,” Jesse said when Arthur reached him.
Arthur set his hand on Jesse’s shoulder and squeezed. “You look well. Almost like you’ve been spending some nights sleeping on one of those new spring mattresses or something.” He took a pause to wiggle his eyebrows in a playful manner. “I have one of those, you know.”
Jesse let out a puff of air. “You’re ridiculous.”
Arthur left his hand on Jesse’s shoulder for a few seconds longer and then removed it. He turned to Giuseppe instead, who was simply smirking at them.
“Mr. Caputo,” Arthur said. “Glad you could make it.”
“Yes, well, Jesse will have to clean out the furnace from here on out if this is as terrible of an experience as I fear.”
Arthur tilted his head. “How’s that different from now?”
Jesse snorted a laugh, and Giuseppe scoffed lightly.
Immediately thereafter, Charlotte, Emma, Patrick, Emma’s friend Lizzie, and Lizzie’s tutor Miss Hawthorne showed up. Since Giuseppe had never met most of them, Arthur made theintroductions, which Jesse thought went pleasantly enough. Until Giuseppe reopened his mouth.
“All of this, it’s so expensive. Needlessly expensive. It’s shameful to pay fifty cents to see a bunch of buildings, nice as they may seem from the outside.”
Jesse clenched his teeth, though he really wanted to scold Giuseppe for behaving like such a brat. Patrick, though, came to Arthur’s defense straightaway.
“What’s wrong with you that you can’t see a kind thing even when it’s staring you in the face? Mr. Hughes wasn’t obligated to invite us. He could’ve kept this family only. You should feel lucky that you can enjoy the fair without paying a penny for it. I know I do.”
Giuseppe wrinkled his nose. He looked like he wanted to push back, but Patrick continued on with the verbal lashing before he could.
“Also, I’ll have you know that Mr. Hughes pays me well, and I enjoy working for him. I know what it’s like to work for families who think their servants are less important than a piece of furniture, calling them by names they choose for them—names that are easier to remember, or that they think sound more respectable—rather than their real ones. Mr. Hughes is a kind man. He treats every one of his servants well. Show him some respect, will you?”
Giuseppe stared wordlessly for a few moments, his mouth agape, before finally heaving a sigh and mumbling a soft “fine.” Jesse was simultaneously overcome with a feeling of relief that someone else had put Giuseppe in his place instead of him having to and secondhand embarrassment for his roommate over his bratty behavior.
Shifting uncomfortably, Jesse turned to face Arthur, hoping to find some guidance on how they ought tomove on.
After a tense moment of silence, Arthur rubbed his hands together a few times and said, “Let’s try the—the train, shall we? The Columbian Intramural Railway? It can take us to the Midway Plaisance, if we want, and the ride itself is only ten cents per person. Should be an experience in itself.” Rocking back on his heels, he paused and worried at his bottom lip. “Or... if no one objects to me spending abitmore money, we could stop at the French bakery here first. Every thirty cents we spend there should yield us a free train ticket, provided that everyone has their circulars from the entry booth. I believe they have, ehm, sandwiches, maybe, or cakes. Coffee, too. Thoughts?”
