It Happened at the Fair (43 page)

Chuckling, Vaughn held up a hand. “I get the picture.”

Cullen handed him a paper listing all his clients.

Setting his spectacles on his nose, Vaughn took several moments to peruse it. “This is very good,
McNmra
. Very good. Did any of them
cmmt
with a down payment?”

“Yes, sir. I required a fifty percent deposit.” He delineated which ones had already paid.

With part of the advances, he’d sent money home to pay for the Dewey boys’ help. Between the harvest money and the upcoming installs, he’d be able to buy down enough debts to keep the farm for at least another year—more if his dad was careful and if Cullen’s business continued to grow.

Vaughn settled back in his chair, his vest buttons straining against his portly belly. “I’m
assming
you’re here to find out how much I’ll reduce their premiums?”

“Yes, sir.”

He tapped his thumb against the armrest. “I wasn’t
expcting
you to do so well,
prtclrly
in light of our current economic
cndtn
.”

Cullen gave him a wry grin. “Forgive me if I don’t apologize. And I told them of Vaughn Mutual. I know many of them hope to recoup much of their investment by signing policies with you.”

Vaughn returned his grin. “Excellent.”

A clock on the wall ticked in the ensuing silence.

Drawing in a large breath, Vaughn sat up and leaned on his desk. “Let me take this to the board. Our
intntn
is to offer a premium discount to any of our current policyholders who adopt your
sprnklrs
and to, of course, garner new
clnts
from this list of yours. In the long run, their
rdcd prmms
will be well
wrth
the
cst
of your
systms
.”

Even in the quiet of the room, Cullen had trouble grasping what had been said. He knew that if Vaughn pulled out, he’d lose some clients—maybe not all, but certainly enough to put the farm back in jeopardy. Still, Vaughn was not a one-time install job. He’d be working with him and his company for at least a year, maybe more if things went well.

Trying to hide his hearing loss would be not only almost impossible, but also dishonest. And that was a road he didn’t care to take again.

With a quick prayer, he mustered up some courage. “I’m terribly sorry, sir, but I’m hard of hearing and didn’t catch those last two sentences.”

Vaughn’s eyes widened behind his glasses. “Hard of
hrng
? Is this
smthng
new? I’ve never noticed it before.”

“I’ve been gradually losing my hearing over the past year. It’s become much worse since arriving at the fair. As you know, though, I’ve been taking private lip-reading lessons from one of the teachers of the deaf.”

Vaughn pushed himself straight in his chair. “I thought that was because of the noise in Machinery
Hll
. I had no idea your actual hearing was a problem. Who else knows
abt
this?”

“My family, my, uh, teacher, and a former customer.”

“What do you mean, ‘a former customer’?”

“I had a printing-works man who withdrew his orders once he found out I had difficulty hearing.”

“Well, I’m not the least bit
surprsed
. Do not under any circumstances tell anyone else. It could very well jeopardize all of
ths
. People have very definite opinions about that sort of thing.”

“Don’t you think that would be dishonest?”

Vaughn ran a hand over his head. “Absolutely not. Having a
hring
problem does not mean you have to run
arnd
with a scarlet letter pinned to your chest.”

Cullen frowned. He hadn’t thought of it quite like that. “I wasn’t planning to tell every person I met on the street, but clients are a bit different, don’t you think?”

“Will this hearing
prblm
affect your work? Your
sprnklr
systems?”

“Not at all.”

“Then the clients don’t need to know
abt
it.”

Cullen shifted positions in the chair. “What if I knew a particular client would clearly object to working with someone subject to a deficiency of this kind?”

Vaughn shook his head. “Your ability to hear—or not hear—has no impact on the reliability or effectiveness of your product any more than your looks, personality, weight, or height would. Therefore, you are
undr
no obligation to share it.”

“Don’t you think that would be lying by omission?”

“Lying by omission would be installing a product that was faulty.
That
is relevant to the relationship.
That
is lying by omission.”

Cullen tapped a fist against his lips. Partial deafness might not affect his equipment, but it would have an impact on his relationship with a buyer who held strong prejudices. Still, what Vaughn said made sense. He supposed he’d have to take it one client at a time and simply do as his conscience dictated.

“There’s nothing wrong with my product,” he said.

“Of course not.” Rising to his feet, Vaughn tapped Cullen’s list of clients. “Would you mind if I kept this for now?”

Cullen held out a hand. “I made that copy for you.”

Vaughn gave him a firm shake. “I’ll let the board know. We should have a proposal for your clients by the end of the fair.”

GONDOLA ON THE LAGOON

“A golden-skinned gondolier wearing an embroidered purple jacket took his position on the dancing bow, his long oar secured across a twisted lock. His partner, in crimson and white, balanced on tiptoe in the narrow stern.”

CHAPTER

50

Della had become so accustomed to groups of tourists entering her classroom that she hardly gave them a second glance. But at the back of this particular group stood Cullen, as antsy and full of excitement as a young boy on Christmas morning. His eyes danced, a barely checked smile hovered at his lips, his weight shifted from one foot to the other.

What on earth?

With difficulty, she forced her attention back to the children. Lifting a small plate with cake, she held it in the air. “What is this?”

Idanell raised her hand. “Caag.”

“Very good, Idanell. Now, everyone together . . . ‘Cake.’ ”

“Caag.”

One by one, the children identified a bottle of wine, some wild-flowers, a red cap, and a drawing of a wolf.

“Excellent. Now we are ready for story time.”

She told them of Little Red Cap’s instructions from her mother, her meeting with the wolf, and the sly plot the wolf had. Whenever one of their vocabulary words was used, she held the object in the air and the children chorused that part.

Although they’d heard the story a thousand times, they still sat breathless during the telling. The scene with the disguised wolf was Della’s favorite.

She put the red cap on her head. “Oh, Grandmother, what big . . .” She pointed to her ear.

“Eeyyoos.”

“. . . you have. And the wolf said . . .” She held up a drawing of the wolf.

“All dddd bbbedddr to heee you wid.”

“Oh, Grandmother, what big . . .”

“Iiiiz.”

“. . . you have. And the wolf said . . .”

“All dddd bbbedddr to zeee you wid.”

“Oh, Grandmother, what big . . .”

“Haaandz.”

“. . . you have. And the wolf said . . .”

“All dddd bbbedddr to gwabbb you wid.”

“Oh, Grandmother, what a horribly big . . .”

“Mow-f.”

“. . . you have. And the wolf said . . .”

“All dddd bbbedddr to eeed you wid!”

“And he jumped from the bed and ate up poor Little Red Cap.”

Kitty’s eyes widened. She covered her mouth and shook her head, her blond ringlets bouncing every which way. Della quickly brought in the huntsman who cut the wolf open with his ax and saved Little Red Cap and her grandmother.

The applause from the tourists gave her a start. She’d forgotten all about them. Her gaze connected with Cullen’s.

His grin was wide and his shoulders shook.

Heat rushing into her cheeks, she snatched the red cap from her head, then turned back to the children. “What did you learn?”

Vivienne bounced off her chair, jumped up and down, and waved her hand in the air.

Della gave her a gentle frown. “Ladylike manners, please, Vivienne.”

The girl scrambled back to the chair, bottom up, arm still waving.

Della bit her cheek. “Go ahead.”

“Doo whaad your mudder sezzz.”

“Do what your mother says. You are exactly right.”

Edgar raised his hand, his feet swinging back and forth in the chair.

“Edgar.”

“Do nod lizzn tooo woooves.”

The tourists chuckled.

She nodded. “Do not listen to wolves or . . . ?”

Julia Jo raised her hand.

“Julia Jo.”

“Or peeeble ooo dell you do braag de ruuuz.”

“Or people who tell you to break the rules. Excellent. Shall we close with a prayer?” Putting her hands together, she led them in prayer, then released them for playtime on the roof.

The tourists followed them out, talking quietly among themselves. At last they were gone.

Closing the door behind them, Cullen leaned against it, ankles crossed. “They understood you very well.”

“It took me months and months to teach the story to them the first time. Now the repetition reinforces the words on my lips and makes them more recognizable when I use them out of context.”

He nodded. “That was the final lesson of the day, wasn’t it?”

“It was. What are you doing taking a tour of the building?”

“It was the only way I could get in here before school was over.”

“Has something happened?”

His smile grew huge.

She felt her own begin. “Oh, Mr. McNamara. What a big smile you have.”

Pushing away from the door, he grabbed a chair and wedged it beneath the doorknob.

“Cullen,” she scolded. “What are you doing?”

He took a step forward.

She took a step back. “Oh, Mr. McNamara. What mischievous eyes you have.”

He winked. “The better to see you with.”

He made a swipe.

She jumped out of the way, giggling. “Oh, Mr. McNamara. What big hands you have.”

“The better to grab you with.” This time he was ready for her and snagged her arm, then pulled her close.

She squeaked. “What if someone tries to come in?”

“No one is coming in.” His wicked smile engaged laugh lines and dimples.

She bit her lip. “Oh, Mr. McNamara. What a horribly big mouth you have.”

He splayed his hands across her back. “The better to kiss you with.”

She stiffened. “Not here!”

But it was too late. His head descended, and she was lost. By the time he’d finished, she was on her tiptoes, her arms around his neck and her breath coming in short spurts.

He rested his forehead and nose against hers. “Guess what?”

“What?”

“My sprinkler system won a medal.”

She pulled back. “What!”

Releasing her, he slipped a hand into his coat pocket and withdrew a shiny silver filigree case.

Excitement and awe bubbled up inside her. She clasped her hands behind her back. “You open it.”

His big, virile hands pressed the spring-loaded button. Inside, a bronze coin nestled against a black velvet lining.

“Oh, Cullen. This isn’t a medal from the Fireman’s Week competitions. It’s a medal from the fair.” She looked up. “Can I touch it?”

Grinning, he nodded.

She ran her fingers along a figure of Columbus stepping ashore onto the New World. “It’s gorgeous.”

“Look at the other side.”

Placing one hand beneath his, she picked up the coin with her other and turned it over. A cartouche with a commemorative inscription was flanked by torches on either side, two winged females and a globe on the top, and a large sailing ship along the bottom.

“Read it,” he urged.

“ ‘World’s Columbian Exposition. In commemoration of the four-hundredth anniversary of the landing of Columbus. 1892–1893. To . . . ‘” Gasping, she glanced at him again. “They engraved your name on it.”