It Happened at the Fair (41 page)

For the last month, Della had not been herself. She’d been in no mood to spend her evenings with Hilda and Maxine, so had not even told them she wasn’t tutoring Cullen anymore. Instead, she simply walked through the fair’s buildings alone, with only her feelings for company. And those feelings had continued to fluctuate from shock to disbelief to lethargy to anger.

Today she was angry. Angry with her father for being an alarmist. Angry with Cullen for lying to her. Angry with herself for falling in love with him. But when she snapped at sweet little Vivienne, whose sole purpose in life was to please her teacher, Della knew it was time either to do something about her situation with Cullen or let him go.

She loved him and always would. And though she was extremely upset about his subterfuge, was standing on the high ground the route she really wanted to take? For he’d not been the starry-eyed one. She had. And the first time he’d ever shown any overt feelings of attraction for her was after the toboggan ride.

Assuming he hadn’t been attempting to lead a dual life, as it were, she couldn’t imagine the inner turmoil he must have experienced being engaged to one woman, then suddenly finding himself falling in love with another.

If that was the case and he promised to be completely honest and up-front now and forevermore, was she willing to risk it? Willing to give their love a chance?

It didn’t take her long to decide. She was. She absolutely was. But first, she needed to find out if he was telling the truth. If he really had broken it off with Wanda.

She had no idea how to contact Wanda. The only thing she knew was Wanda had stayed with someone from the Crowne Pen Company. So after work, she headed to Machinery Hall.

Every place she passed contained a memory of Cullen. The lagoon on her left. The Manufactures Building beyond that. The Ferris wheel reigning over it all.

She wondered if she’d see him in Machinery Hall or if he’d see her. His booth was just a few exhibits down from Crowne’s. What would she do if he approached? What would she do if he didn’t?

Fairgoers buzzed about her, chatting, laughing, pointing, and exclaiming, having no idea she wasn’t part of the fun. Having no idea she’d shored up her nerves to find out the truth. And that the answers to her questions would determine whether she’d be with or without the person she loved above all others.

FAIRGOERS

The whirling wheels of a rolling chair warned her to move aside or be run over. A popper over hot coals set corn kernels dancing. Their crackle and snap along with their poignant aroma filled the area. It immediately brought to mind the bag of Cracker Jacks she had shared with Cullen, both marveling at the new concoction and agreeing that regular popcorn would never taste the same again.

Crossing the Court of Honor, she approached Cullen’s building, her nerves jangling. But he wasn’t inside. His booth was empty of everything but his tiny display. Relief and disappointment warred for dominance.

She stepped up to Crowne’s counter. Glass cases displayed fountain pens, along with pearl, ebony, and silver holders nestling inside plush cases.

A woman in a smart taupe suit greeted her with a smile. “Good afternoon. Might I show you to a seat in our amphitheater?” She gestured toward a horseshoe of seats behind her that faced several machines. “You can watch crude materials such as gold and alloy transform into finished pens right before your eyes and then, perhaps, take a souvenir home with you. Our next show is just about to start.”

Della clasped and unclasped her hands. “Actually I was hoping one of you could help me with a more personal matter.”

The woman’s face changed from that of a salesperson to a person of concern who shared a common bond with those of her sex. “I’ll do my best. What is it you wished?”

“I was hoping to speak to the lady who opened her quarters to a Miss Wanda a couple of weeks ago.”

The woman’s eyes became wary, her tone cautious. “I know Miss Sappington.”

Sappington. Wanda Sappington. Somehow, knowing her full name made it worse. Della took a deep breath. “Is she still here, by any chance?”

“Who’s asking, if you don’t mind?”

“Oh, of course. I’m sorry. I should have done that first. I’m Adelaide Wentworth of Philadelphia, but everyone calls me Della.”

“And you have business with Miss Sappington?” The woman’s tone flattened.

Della swallowed. “I believe we’re both in love with the same man.”

A stocky gentleman stepped onto the stage area of the amphitheater and began to address a smattering of spectators, his voice loud in order to be heard over the noise in the Hall.

The saleswoman threaded her hands together and rested them on the counter. “I see. Yet I’m still unsure of your purpose.”

Della tugged at her gloves. “This is very awkward.”

“You’re welcome to leave at any time.”

Oh, dear. The woman must have liked Wanda Sappington.

Della cleared her throat. “I had just wanted to ask her a very quick question.”

“And what might that be?”

She darted her gaze from the amphitheater to the other salesladies, then back to the one before her, who had yet to introduce herself. “I was, um, simply wondering how long she had known Mr. McNamara.”

The woman studied her, her spine as straight as one of the fountain pens inside the display case. “Since they were children.”

Della’s lips parted. “Are you certain?”

“That was my understanding.”

“Do you know if Mr. McNamara traveled extensively?”

The woman drew her brows together. “What is your purpose, Miss Wentworth?”

She rubbed her forehead, then took a fortifying breath. “I’m terribly sorry to be so forward. It’s just, my father has put the fear of God in me ever since he discovered I was coming to the fair. One of the things he cautioned me about was men who lead dual lives, if you will, with one wife and family in the East and another in the West. I know it sounds preposterous, but I am just trying to confirm exactly what manner of man Mr. McNamara is.”

The more she spoke, the more the saleslady’s posture relaxed. “You’re here alone?”

“I’m here with my school. We teach deaf students at the Children’s Building.”

Her eyes lit in recognition. “I’ve heard much about your exhibit. You’re teaching them to lip-read?”

“Yes.”

Biting the inside of her cheek, she thrummed her fingers on the counter, then blew out a soft breath. “Mr. McNamara is a very conscientious man. I have no way of knowing his travel schedule, but from what Wanda told me, he lives on a farm in North Carolina with his father and has lived there always. He and Wanda were childhood sweethearts—or so she thought until quite recently.”

“Then they are no longer engaged to marry?”

“They are not.”

Della nodded, a spark of hope coming to life. “Thank you. Thank you so much.” She glanced at Cullen’s booth. “Do you know where he is?”

“He hasn’t manned his booth since his demonstration.”

“Do you know where I can find him?”

Again, the woman took a long time in answering. “I’m sorry.”

Her throat began to close. “Please, I must see him.”

“Does he know where to find you?”

“He does.”

“Then I’ll tell him if I see him again.”

“If?” Her pulse began to hammer. “You’re not certain if you’ll see him again?”

“I have no idea.”

Biting her lip, Della stepped back from the counter. “Well, thank you for your help, and good day.”

She questioned the men whose booths bracketed Cullen’s. But no one knew where he was or where he’d been.

With drooping shoulders, she left Machinery Hall and headed to the place she’d found succor these past several weeks—the revolving sidewalk.

AGRICULTURAL BUILDING AND THE GRAND BASIN

“The boulevard between the Grand Basin and the Agricultural Building held a typical crowd—those who strolled leisurely down its walk, those who studied maps, and those who tried to impress upon their children the importance of what they were seeing.”

CHAPTER

48

Following her now familiar route, Della crossed the Court of Honor, then headed toward the pier, allowing the harmonious strength of the White City to soothe her raw emotions. Cullen was who he said he was. He’d known Wanda Sappington virtually his whole life, and she’d known him. It stood to reason, therefore, that he wasn’t living a life of duplicity.

Relief, happiness, and guilt washed over her in succession. Relief that he’d told the truth about ending his engagement. Happiness that she could declare her love to him if he promised not to hold any secrets from her. And guilt that she’d caused him pain by refusing to believe him in the first place.

Still, he wasn’t completely blameless. He should have told her about Miss Sappington. He certainly had ample opportunity.

That didn’t explain his absence from his booth, though. Was he ill? Surely she’d have heard him puttering about his room if that were the case.

She squared her shoulders. Whatever the reason, she’d wait for him tonight on the steps of Harvell House just as he’d waited for her. No matter how long it took.

Decision made, she began to take in her surroundings. The bricked boulevard between the Grand Basin and the Agricultural Building held a typical crowd—those who strolled leisurely down its walk, those who studied maps, and those who tried to impress upon their children the importance of what they were seeing.

AGRICULTURE BUILDING

But the ones who fascinated her most were those who made a duty out of touring the fair. Loaded down with guidebooks, pads, pencils, and bags, they were easy to spot. Today it was a family of five. Like a duck with a line of ducklings, their leader walked at a brisk pace, a specific destination in his mind.

The piercing voices of juveniles in red toggery carried over the hum of the crowd. “This way for your World’s Fair catalogue!” they cried, striving for dominance over the boys in blue who sold official guides and cried out attractions not listed in the book.

A line of guards hurried down both sides of the Basin, urging folks to the edges of the boulevard. “Clear the track! Clear the track!”