Just North of Bliss (9 page)

Without even looking in Win’s direction, she
grabbed her skirt in her hand and headed for the stair down from
the platform. Win hollered, “Wait!” before he remembered with whom
he was dealing.

His yell stopped her, though. She stiffened
up like water freezing, and gave him an equally chilly stare. “I
beg your pardon?”

“Sorry,” Win muttered. He hurried to replace
the flash powder and slide another plate into his camera. “Didn’t
mean to shout. But I want to get one shot of you and the two
children together. After I develop all of these plates, I’ll have a
better idea how to set up the composition of the pictures I want to
take.”

Belle’s pretty alabaster brow wrinkled, as
if she didn’t understand what he’d just said. Fortunately, she
complied with his request—shout—Whatever it had been—without
quibbling. Win not only hadn’t anticipated her easy compliance, but
he appreciated her not fighting with him about it.

The children, needless to say, scrambled up
from their bench and hurried over to the platform. Children were
fun to photograph, unless they were cut of Mr. Wiggles’ stamp,
because they were generally such egoists. Win figured that quality
eventually got knocked out of a body, but while it lasted whoever
had it was much easier to photograph than were people who were
nervous and shy about posing.

Not for Win the stiff, stodgy family
groupings of days gone by. No, sirree. Win valued the natural style
of photography, and he was going to wrest some sort of naturalness
out of Belle Monroe if it killed him. He almost laughed out loud
when he realized that for Belle, acting natural was totally
unnatural. Ah well, his was not to wonder why.

“What do you want us to do, Mr. Asher?”
Garrett asked.

It was a sensible question. Win pondered it
for a moment. He didn’t dare ponder too long, because he didn’t
expect Belle to stay serene for very many more seconds. At last,
unable to think of any particularly inspiring pose and deciding
that it didn’t matter yet anyhow, he said, “Just stand together, if
you will. Miss Amalie, you stand on Miss Monroe’s right side.
Master Garrett, you stand to her left. That’s the way.”

On her own, Belle put an arm around each
child’s shoulder. The gesture surprised Win, since he didn’t know
she had any spontaneity in her.

As he ducked under his black cloth once
more, he wondered if he was being a little too hard on her. She did
seem to have established a certain rapport with the Richmond
children, so she couldn’t be a
completely
stuffed shirt.
Maybe it was only men with whom she got fussy.

What the hell; he didn’t care. He pulled the
chain one last time for the day, the explosion made his subjects
jump a little, and he felt he’d accomplished something
important.

Punching the air in happy anticipation, he
turned to the Richmonds, who had risen from their seats. “There.
That’s all right, then. I’ll develop these shots and be in touch
with you.”

The Richmonds exchanged an anticipatory
glance, and Mr. Richmond asked, “When do you expect them to be
ready?”

“I can’t wait to see what you’re going to do
with Belle and the children, Mr. Asher,” Mrs. Richmond added with
gratifying enthusiasm.

Good. Win knew that as long as he had the
Richmonds on his side, getting Belle to behave herself and
cooperate would be easier. “In a day or two. Would you like me to
visit your hotel, or would you prefer coming to my booth? Will you
be continuing your stay in Chicago? If you’ll be here for a while,
I won’t have to rush the project.”

“Oh, we’re going to be here for another six
weeks,” Mr. Richmond said, his voice rich with complacency. “I want
my children to experience the Exposition fully. And Gladys and I
intend to visit with friends and relatives in Chicago as long as
we’re here.”

“Will you be coming to the fair for a few
more days?”

“Oh, my, yes,” exclaimed Gladys. “We haven’t
seen a quarter of it yet. It’s so huge.”

Grinning, Win nodded. “It certainly it.
There’s something for everybody here. It’s the biggest fair of its
kind ever presented.”

“It’s amazing.” Mr. Richmond shook his head
to convey his sense of amazement. Win was interested to note that
he still appeared self-satisfied and confident even when amazed.
“Why don’t we pop in each day we’re here, and you can let us know
when the plates are ready and when you wish to begin the
photographic sessions.”

“That sounds perfect,” Win said, glad they’d
decided on this course of action since he didn’t want to leave his
booth for too long at any one time. “In fact, instead of waiting
until these plates are ready, why don’t I begin with the family
sittings tomorrow?” He knew that if he accomplished the free part
of his deal first, they’d be more happy to lend their
cooperation—not to mention their children’s nanny—to the rest of
his scheme.

“Wonderful.” Mr. Richmond gave Win a broad
smile, and his hunch about the free stuff first was confirmed.

“Great.” Win unlatched the flash plate from
the side of his camera. “What sights do you plan to take in on your
holiday besides the fair?”

“We’re going to visit my father’s cousin’s
farm,” Amalie informed Win.

She sounded excited about it, and Win
guessed life had changed a lot in the hundred and twenty-some years
since the Revolution. It used to be that children wanted to get
away from their home farms. Nowadays visiting a farm was something
to look forward to as a holiday. “Good for you,” he said with a
grin. “My uncle Charlie and my aunt Verna have a farm not far from
Chicago. I used to stay with them during the summer months
sometimes.” He continued working, dismantling his equipment and
tucking his plates in his bag as he spoke.

Amalie was wide-eyed with intrigue. “Oh! Was
it fun on the farm?”

Win thought about it as he folded up his
tripod. “Actually, it was a lot of work,” he said at last. “Farming
isn’t exactly an easy life.”

“But you get to ride horses,” Garrett
pointed out.

His father chuckled. “That’s right, son, but
it’s one thing to ride a horse in Washington Square for fun and
quite another to ride a horse pulling a plow.”

Win didn’t point out that generally one
didn’t do that these days, because he didn’t want to annoy Mr.
Richmond. He said only, “Absolutely.” As he carried his tripod to
the cupboard in which he kept it overnight, he saw Belle looking at
Mr. Richmond as if she, too, wondered where he’d come by his
notions of the farming life. He felt a little better about dealing
with her after that, since she evidently had
something
in
common with him. He’d begun to think they were about as alike as a
polar bear and a Chihuahua, although he wasn’t sure who was
which.

After he locked his booth up, he walked with
the Richmonds entourage to the main entrance to the Exposition.
Night had fallen, and all the electric lights with which the fair
was bedecked lit their way. He noticed Belle gazing up at the night
sky and said with a smile, “The city lights make the stars appear
dim, don’t they, Miss Monroe?”

With a small start, she glanced at him.
“Indeed, they do.”

“I like the ‘lectric lights,” Garrett said
firmly. “They’re progress.”

“That’s right, my boy,” agreed his
father.

Mrs. Richmond allowed herself a tiny sigh.
“Oh, I don’t know. I think the moon and stars are prettier than
electric lights.”

“Me, too,” agreed Amalie.

“I’m rather fond of the moon and stars
myself,” Belle said hesitantly.

“I have to admit,” Win admitted, “that while
I’m all for progress, I do think we’ll miss being able to see the
stars at night. Should, that is to say, people get carried away
with electric lighting.”

“Pshaw,” Mr. Richmond scoffed. “Progress, my
boy. Progress is the only answer to the world’s ills.”

“You’re probably right.” Win wasn’t sure if
the slight pang it cost him to agree with Mr. Richmond was because
he was an antiquated reactionary, as he suspected Belle to be, or
because it was really true that with every advance in technology,
the human race lost a little bit of its history. Probably the
latter. He really didn’t want to think he was akin to Belle
Monroe.

“Sometimes progress crushes something
beautiful, though,” Belle said so softly Win could scarcely hear
her.

“Fiddle,” laughed Mr. Richmond.

“Belle’s right, George,” said Mrs.
Richmond.

Win didn’t say anything, but he had to agree
with her.

The children both yawned, which Win supposed
was as good an ending to the conversation as any. He waved after
the Richmonds and Belle as they rode away in the cab Win had
flagged down for them. Then he stuffed his hands into his pockets
and walked back to his booth. He worked until long past midnight,
developing the plates he’d taken of Belle and the children.

When he viewed the result of his work, he
knew that, whatever it took, he was going to have to talk Belle
into allowing him to take the series of photographs he envisioned
featuring her alone.

Chapter Five

“I don’t know if this is a good idea,” Belle
murmured as she and Mrs. Richmond and the two Richmond children
strolled along the Midway in the direction of Win’s booth. “I felt
silly standing there, staring at the camera.”

“Nonsense,” said Mrs. Richmond bracingly. “I
think Mr. Asher is a brilliant photographer, and I think his idea
for a series of pictures featuring you and the children is a
brilliant idea.”

“Me, too!” Amalie, skipping along between
her mother and Belle, was as bright as the day itself in her yellow
checked frock and with the yellow ribbons encircling her pretty
straw hat fluttering behind her.

“Me, three,” agreed Garrett. He was clad in
yet another sailor suit this morning and looked as natty and neat
as anything. Although Belle knew this condition wouldn’t last, she
enjoyed seeing him thus for however long it did.

She knew for a fact that Garrett had at
least four sailor suits, which seemed excessive to her, although
she didn’t begrudge them to the boy. If one’s parents were rich
enough to supply a clean set of clothes for every day in the week,
why shouldn’t they? Belle herself wouldn’t cavil at supplying her
own children with new clothes. If she ever had any children. If she
ever had any money.

“Hmmm.” The notion of being photographed
didn’t sit as well with her as the notion of eventually having
children, even without money attached. She knew Mrs. Richmond was
eager to have Amalie and Garrett photographed, however, and Mr.
Richmond was eager to get a good deal. Yankees and their deals were
another aspect of life in the North of which Belle couldn’t
approve. Not that she had anything against saving money; she
disapproved of flaunting one’s skill as a haggler.

The day itself was beautiful, however, and
she eagerly anticipated spending another several hours at the
World’s Columbian Exposition, so she wasn’t as unwilling to pose
for Mr. Asher as she’d been the night before. There was something
about being at a World’s Fair that affected one’s sense of what one
considered seemly.

That, at least, is what she’d written to her
parents the night before when she’d attempted to explain this new
venture into which she was being thrust. “There’s something about
this fair,” she’d written in her best, most elegant cursive, “that
seems to be affecting my sense of what I consider seemly.

“While I would have been horrified if Mr.
Willard, at the drug store, offered to take a series of photographs
of me and sell them to newspapers, somehow having a series of
photographs taken with Amalie and Garrett at the Columbian
Exposition doesn’t seem so horrid.”

She’d pondered long and hard, chewing her
pen and worrying, before she’d decided to allow that paragraph to
stand. She’d already given the missive to the gentleman at the
front desk at the hotel this morning, so she might as well resign
herself to whatever consequences accrued from it.

Her ultimate reasoning for telling her
parents about the photographs was that she imagined they’d find out
eventually anyhow, if any of the pictures appeared in newspapers in
Georgia. She knew from experience that it was better to confess
one’s sins openly than to have them sneak up on one and attack one
when one least expected them to do so.

She vividly recalled her brother trying to
hide the fact that he’d begun smoking a pipe, only to be found out
in his subterfuge when his trousers caught fire. It had taken a
couple of weeks for the burn on his bottom to heal, too, and poor
Paul had been subjected to dreadful teasing during that period. In
truth, people still teased him about it.

The notion of having this episode in her
life discovered and exposed, as if she were ashamed of it and were
trying to keep it hidden, made Belle shudder. The fact that she
was
ashamed of it and would have kept it
hidden if she believed it possible, was something she guessed she’d
just have to live with. She could outright refuse to pose with the
Richmond children, but that would surely put a strain on her good
relationship with the family. A few photographs weren’t worth the
risk.

At least, she hoped to heaven they
weren’t.

The sights and sounds and smells of the
Exposition fascinated all three ladies as they walked through the
fairgrounds. Belle loved the Grand Basin and the Court of Honor,
even if her beloved South wasn’t particularly well represented
therein. The white City, which had looked magnificent last night
under the glow of all the electric lights, still looked magnificent
under the benevolent rays of the morning sun.

“It’s difficult to take it all in, isn’t it,
Mrs. Richmond?”

Gladys, glancing around with her own eyes
wide and fascinated, nodded. “It’s a testament to American
know-how, as George keeps telling us.”