Page 21 of An Uncertain Road

Bidding Beth goodnight, Flora headed for the first car that had arrived, the lovely White Model E steamer that had blown past them while they stopped for lunch. Sam wasn’t there anymore, but the driver was telling a group of onlookers what must have been a riveting tale, based on their rapt expressions. Flora paused to listen as he wrapped up his story. “And that’s what got me here a full half hour before any other drivers—perfect control of a perfect automobile.”

Flora turned away so no one would see her roll her eyes. The driver continued his pride-filled diatribe as she walked toward the next vehicle, and she did her best to ignore the loud boasts. His car was very nice to look at and must run well since he’d arrived first. But that didn’t make it perfect. And it certainly didn’t make him perfect, as he seemed to believe.

Moving on, she encountered many of the same conversations happening all around the parking area. Drivers boasting about their skills. Mechanics claiming any small adjustment they made was what brought their car in faster than so many others. And not one of them made any effort to acknowledge Flora’s presence.

She passed the White steamer again on the way back to the hotel, but this time, Sam was there and waved her over when he caught her eye. “Mrs. Montfort, come meet my crew. This is our driver, Archie Franklin, and Charles Ray riding along. Fellows, this is Mrs. Flora Montfort, driver of that fine Decauville straight from France.”

The men all shook her hand, though Mr. Franklin’s eyes traveled up and down her first in a disconcerting way. Flora pushed the discomfort away. She was used to all kinds of unwanted and unnecessary looks from men in races. If she continued to drive well, it wouldn’t be the last unpleasant glance sent her way. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both. Is this your first race?”

Charlie Ray, who seemed the friendlier of the two, answered before Mr. Franklin could even take a breath. “We’ve all been in racing for years and were handpicked by Mr. Ronald Dorman of the Dorman Sporting Equipment empire to lead his racing team.”

Was he actually puffing out his chest with pride? Flora stifled a giggle, not wanting to offend the first men on this tour who even bothered to admit she existed. “He must trust all three of you, then. And he’s supplied you with a very fine car.”

This time, Mr. Franklin managed to respond before Mr. Ray, his words slow and deliberate. “I own the car, ma’am. Mr. Dorman is funding the team, but this is my automobile. Get used to seeing the back of it as I reach the finish in front of you every night.”

What a pompous response to a friendly remark. Before Flora could return her own barb, Mr. Ray spoke again. “Did you hear the news, Mrs. Montfort? About the teams that got lost?”

Flora shook her head and Mr. Ray continued, looking quite pleased he had information to reveal. “Word is, the confetti marking the route got tampered with. Who would do such a thing to a group of people out enjoying a friendly competition? We’re not hurting anyone.”

With a scowl that never seemed to leave his face, Mr. Franklin waved off his teammate’s concern. “Think, man. It’s bits of paper. The wind was most likely responsible. Or the previous cars crushed it into the dirt. They were the last two teams, anyway, and hardly worth being concerned about. This would be a better competition if they didn’t let anyone with access to a car join. Qualified drivers would make for a more competitive race.”

A chill settled over Flora when Mr. Franklin looked her over deliberately again. Was he referring to her? Did he believe, as many people did, that she shouldn’t compete because she was a woman?

With a change of the subject that saved her from snapping a retort she couldn’t take back, Sam held out his arm to her with an easy smile. “Can I take you for a stroll around the grounds, Mrs. Montfort? I’d love to hear about your first day.”

Grateful for his rescue, Flora nodded to the other two men and took Sam’s arm. As they walked away, the tension drained from her body. “Thank you, Sam. I don’t know how I offended Mr. Franklin, but he was quite disagreeable.”

Shrugging, Sam continued ambling on through the cars and onlookers. “Ah, he’s always that way. He’s vying for a spot high up in Mr. Dorman’s company, is what Charles says. I guess he’d do just about anything to get it. Dorman’s worth a fortune, you know. Right up there with Mr. Harrison.”

Oh, she knew plenty by now about the rivalry between Mr. Harrison and Mr. Dorman. “There’s often money behind unhappy people, isn’t there Sam?”

He nodded, his usual cheerfulness unaffected by the serious topic. “Sure is. Good thing I don’t have a bit of it to turn me into a grump.”

Flora laughed and continued doing so as Sam entertained her during their entire loop around the parking area. No matter how alienated she’d felt most of the day, she couldn’t consider it a bad one if it ended with a laugh.

* * *

As he returned to the Decauville after freshening up, Jensen watched Flora and Sam promenade around the cars, arm in arm and laughing like old friends. The bite of jealousy at how comfortable they looked together was unexpected. And unpleasant.

Jensen turned to answer a few questions about the car for a local, who admired the vehicle before moving on and leaving Jensen to his thoughts. It was getting late into the evening, and the crowd of spectators began to thin out.

Fred emerged from the hotel and met Jensen by the car, scuffing the ground with the toe of his shoe. “How did the evening go, Jensen? Did the locals enjoy seeing Flora’s fine automobile?”

“It seemed as though they did. Many appreciated discussing the differences between it and American cars.”

Fred nodded and leaned against the Decauville, settling in right beside Jensen. He released a deep sigh. If he wasn’t going to get to retire for the night, Jensen might as well attempt to get to the bottom of whatever Fred came out to discuss. “Did Beth get to do all the shopping she wanted?”

Shrugging, Fred stuck his hands in his pockets. “For now, I suppose. At least it keeps her from stewing over having a baby.”

There it was. The newlyweds must have been encountering some friction over starting a family, and that was why Fred had wandered outside looking as though he needed to talk. “So you’d rather let her spend all your money?”

Fred looked up at the darkening sky where clouds were beginning to gather. “It’s an inheritance from her aunt who died last year. She was childless and left most of her money to Beth. It’s not much, but I feel terrible that I haven’t been able to give her what she wants most, so I figure she might as well use the money in any way that makes her happy.”

Worry lines etched into Fred’s forehead that had never been there before. Were Beth’s hopes for a baby taking a bigger toll than Fred let on? The weight on a man who knew he was disappointing his wife had to be a heavy load to bear.

But Fred shifted to look at Jensen and changed the subject. “Have you come to any decisions on what you’ll do when we get back?” He must’ve talked as much about his troubles as he’d needed to.

Pushing away from the car, Jensen grabbed a cloth from under the seat and started wiping the day’s dirt from the smooth metal. “Nope.”