When Mamie finally slunk off to her own table, Grant exhaled the breath he’d been holding. Sarah watched him, chewing her lower lip. It was an adorable sight and a sharp contrast to Miss DuBeau’s prissy behavior.
“I can’t believe Mamie is here.” Grant’s gut clenched.
“You ain’t just whistlin’ ‘Dixie,’ brother.” Lee feigned to wipe sweat from his brow.
“At least Heinrich isn’t.” Thank You, God.
“Yet.” A rare scowl altered Lee’s fine features. “But where she is, trouble is close behind.”
A growl emerged from Grant’s throat before he realized what he was doing. Trouble was named Heinrich Stollen, who seemed to lurk at every turn. No matter what engineering society meeting they attended, he always found a seat near them. Stollen would question them on their progress on engines that he, too, was developing.
“How do you know Miss DuBeau?” Miss Drefs brushed at some imaginary wrinkles in her gown.
Miss Richmond wore an expression Grant hadn’t seen in a while. Could it be? Once, at a party, Jonetta’s face had gone into a pucker of jealousy when she’d been introduced to his sister’s close friend, a sweet girl he’d known since childhood.
“She’s engaged to our competitor.” There, Grant offered the truth.
Miss Richmond’s face relaxed. “Competitor?”
“We’re engineers. Inventors working on refining small engines.”
“Inventors? Engineers?” Miss Richmond looked like she’d swallowed a peach pit. “No wonder.”
Denise laughed. “We’d been chatting earlier about how we just couldn’t believe you two fellows looked like groundskeepers.”
Grant unfastened the top six buttons of his coverall. Beneath, a tailored, superfine navy suit hugged the white linen shirt. “Since we’ve no pressing business today, how about you ladies come to lunch with us?”
“I spied a splendid spot in the central park area, ya’ll.” Lee directed his comment to Denise.
When Miss Richmond simply stared at him, Grant placed his hand over his heart. “I understand your reticence. I apologize for my earlier behavior. It won’t happen again.”
Her pretty face pinked up as she fought a smile. “All is forgiven. But in future, please be more direct with me.”
“With us,” Denise added.
Lee ran his thumb over his lower lip. “I suppose we should confess we’ve got a basket loaded with food from your aunt.”
Sarah gave an exaggerated sigh. “All blue ribbon quality, too; she told me several times last night as she prepared it. I wondered what she was up to.”
“A challenge to keep up with her accomplishments, Miss Richmond.”
“Did ya wonder if she was sendin’ that to Franklin and us for our dinner tonight?”
With a melodic laugh, Sarah shook her head. “All I knew was I surely couldn’t bring that on my bicycle. So Denise and I were going together to the cafeteria.”
Grant raised his hand. “Please, spare me worry and don’t enter that establishment again, Miss Richmond. With those woods surrounding the cafeteria, and some criminally minded men finding it a favorite, please avoid that eatery.”
Sarah blinked up at him. “Mr. Bentley, thank you for your concern. I give you leave to call me Sarah. After all, you’ve saved my life.”
“And please, call me Grant.” He grinned. “Sounds much better than other names I’ve been called.”
Lee stifled a chuckle. “Crazy Yankee being my favorite.”
Two hours later, still reclined on a blanket in the park, they sipped lemonade, nibbled on banana bread, and continued to share all kinds of information, as if they were long-lost friends. When a breeze stirred the gently falling maple leaves and chilled the air, the young women shivered.
“Sorry all the tables were taken, ladies, or I’d have wrapped that blanket around you.”
“Makes a right good barrier between us and the ground though.” Lee gazed at Miss Drefs like a lovesick puppy.
She giggled like a teenager instead of a young woman in her twenties.
Sarah lifted her napkin to her lips and gently wiped biscuit crumbs away. “Do you think Miss DuBeau is correct about the one-year policy?”
He laughed. “Mamie would make up any new rule and get her father’s cronies to add it if she could get away with it.”
Lee tapped two fingers against his forehead. “Best get yourself a copy of the original guidelines.”
“What’s she doing at the Home Arts Pavilion, anyway?” He feared Mamie and her fiancé were there spying on him and Lee. “Is she a judge?”
Sarah and Denise exchanged a long glance.
Don’t tell me. It couldn’t be. But Grant couldn’t help asking, “She’s entered a quilt?”
“Yes,” Sarah and Denise agreed.
Lee choked on his lemonade, and Grant gave him a moment before he whacked him a few times on the back. Lee waved him off.
“Which quilt did she claim was hers?”
Sarah dipped her chin. “Claim? Do you mean you don’t think—”
“I’d be certain Mamie could no sooner fashion a quilt as she could build a bridge.”
Other than the chattering of chipmunks and sounds of leaves rustling, silence settled over the group. A train horn in the distance announced its arrival at the fairgrounds.
“You have to enter your own quilt or represent the quilter.” Denise pulled her straw boater lower and adjusted the red ribbons on it.
Sarah gently touched Grant’s sleeve, sending a frisson of electricity through him. “Did you see that American album quilt, the one highest overhead?”
“I believe it’s one the ladies quilting bee at the Detroit African American Evangelical church sewed.”
“What?” Sarah’s gasp caused several passersby to gawk at them.
Lee scratched his head. “I reckon that’s the one where each lady was stitchin’ a different kind of big block.”
“All heavily embroidered. I even sent to New York for some of the silk thread. We use that in our—” He caught himself before saying balloons.
Lee stacked his dishes. “Our shed along the Detroit waterfront is near the church.”
“It’s our office—not a shed,” Grant grumbled. “Our laboratory.” Truthfully, it was little more than a small warehouse. Why did he suddenly care what Sarah thought of his workplace? Why did he want her to approve? He was beginning to care too much about her.
His friend rolled his eyes, and Denise laughed.
“Lee and I often stop by the AME church.”
“On Thursdays they do quilt tops.” Lee winked. “And bring sweet potato pie. Or pecan.”
“And we’re not hesitant to bring in supplies for certain pies, if the ladies are willing.” Grant patted his girth for emphasis. He’d missed the ladies’ pies, but Mrs. Swanson had given the churchwomen a run for their money with her baking.
“With Grant’s engineering eye for detail, I’m reckonin’ he would know if that’s our church ladies’ quilt.”
“It is.”
Both Denise and Sarah gaped at him. After running the tip of her tongue over her lower lip, which did something strange to Grant’s insides, Sarah exhaled a sigh of satisfaction. “Which means Mamie’s submission is disqualified.”
“Yes’m.” Lee grabbed another chicken leg and gnawed.
“He’s an endless pit.” But Grant, too, grabbed another piece of chicken, savoring Mrs. Swanson’s fine cooking.
“Whoever marries these two fellas better know how to cook.” Denise flipped open the top of the nearly empty hamper.
Grant grinned. The notion of one day finding a wife didn’t hurt so much anymore. His brittle heart was softening.
“Sarah, if you and Denise are available this afternoon, can we take you on a tour of the grounds?”
“Oh no.” Denise pulled a watch fob up on the chatelaine attached to her sweater. “We best get moving. We’re late.”
Sarah shot up. “Can you clean up and take the basket for us?”
“Yes’m.” Lee saluted.
“Thanks. We have to return to our duties.” Sarah linked her arm through Denise’s, and they strode off.
Grant bent and picked up the plates, scraping all the remnants onto one plate he emptied into a nearby trash container. He’d grown up on a fashionable Hudson River estate, yet an Upper Peninsula farm girl had just ordered him to do chores for her. Again.
The funny thing was, he’d be happy to do just about anything she asked him to do. Especially if, someday, God allowed him to be rewarded by her warm hugs and kisses. And more. He better rein in those thoughts.
“What are you grinnin’ about?” Lee arched one brow.
Mimicking his friend’s and his own mother’s heavy accent, Grant said, “I ’spect ya’ll reckon ya know already.”
“Yes, sir, I ’spect I do.” Lee gave a little salute.
The two worked together, thoroughly cleaning up the area. They were accustomed to forming an efficient team, putting everything back in order each night wherever they were. Despite his easygoing veneer, Lee was compulsive about ensuring all was in its place. He surprised Grant by tossing the last biscuit at him.
When Grant dodged the projectile, a beagle with huge eyes trotted up.
“Mr. Box, what are you doing here?” Grant patted the dog’s head.
Lila held the dog’s leash tight. Mrs. Swanson scurried up behind her daughter and glared at them. “Are you wasting my good food?”
“No, ma’am.” Lee wiped crumbs from his mouth.
“Mama, it wasn’t wasted. See?” Lila pointed to Mr. Box, who contentedly ate the biscuit.
“Well, at least give us back the hamper to bring home.”
Would she be disappointed it was practically empty? Were the Swanson’s having hard times? He, Lee, and Uncle Franklin had helped bring in a good harvest with Seth.
Lee easily hoisted the cloth-lined wicker hamper and passed it to the dour woman. She set it on the ground and opened it.
After counting through the plates and cups and utensils, she removed lids from the food containers. Bonnie Swanson looked up at them. “You ate all that food?”
Grant cringed.
“Yes, ma’am. It was right good, too.”
“Delicious,” Grant agreed.
“And you ate it all?”
“Yes’m.” Lee patted the midsection of his coveralls. “Exceptin’ for that half biscuit Mr. Box is enjoyin’.”
A huge smile covered the woman’s face. “How nice to know my efforts were appreciated.”
“First rate—blue ribbon quality through and through.” Grant meant it, too.
Bouncing on her toes, Mrs. Swanson gave a little sound of triumph. Appearing regal as any queen, she held Lila’s hand and took the basket in the other. “We’ll take this to the carriage and then come back to check on Sarah.”
For once, Grant was completely grateful for the irascible woman’s actions. But he couldn’t effusively praise her for checking on her niece. With Mrs. Swanson providing oversight, those hooligans wouldn’t dare get near. Relief coursed through him.
“Mrs. Swanson, let me carry that back for you. Lee, you take Lila to the pavilion, and I’ll bring her mother shortly.”
The tiny woman gasped and looked up at him as though Grant had suddenly grown horns. But then she smiled, offered him the basket, and extended her arm.
They promenaded onto the walkway as though they were aunt and favorite nephew. The notion made him grin. How long had it been since one of his elders, other than Uncle Franklin, expressed any approval of his actions? He’d left home after a parting of the ways with Father and had never looked back. Nor had he received a dime of support from him after Jonetta’s death. But wasn’t that his own fault for not communicating with him?
Monday morning, rested, renewed, and refreshed from their Sunday off, Sarah and Denise practically ran up the groomed walkways to the pavilion.
“I think I might meet my goal.” Denise’s white teeth gleamed in the sunlight.
“Oh?”
“I’m here to meet a husband, and maybe I have.”
“A husband?” Sarah felt her eyes widen. “The fair only lasts a week.” Did Denise think Mr. Hudgins could ask her to marry him in so short a time?
“I know, but there are few eligible bachelors where I live.” Her lower lip protruded in a pout. “Besides, I’ll have been here for almost three weeks before it’s over.”
Sarah didn’t want her friend to be hurt by the flirtatious Southerner. At least both Lee and Grant were churchgoers and had attended yesterday’s service.
Denise huffed out a sigh. “I know Lee might just be practicing his charms.”
They slowed as they neared the building, inhaling the faint scent of new paint. “He seems to get along with you.”
“And Grant with you.”
Sarah raised her hand. “I’ve no interest in a beau, much less a husband.” Although seated in the pew with him the previous day, she couldn’t deny such thoughts had flitted through her mind.
“That’s where we differ. And maybe Lee won’t work out, but here there are all those workmen who built these gorgeous fairgrounds, and most of them young.”
“If that’s your only criterion, come visit my brothers; they’re all under twenty.”
Denise laughed. “I’m too old for them.”
“They’re ornery, sullen, unkempt, and irreverent on occasion.” Sarah arched a brow at her friend. “As are most men.”
“But are they handsome?” Denise’s gaze led to where Mamie DuBeau stood framed in the doorway, a tall and distinguished-looking young man gazing down at her in adoration.
“I don’t think he’s a workman.”
The sun set earlier every evening. After making sure Sarah’s aunt and cousin had driven her home, Grant loaded their bicycle into the back of the horseless carriage. He shoved his goggles into place, wishing his pal would stop aggravating him about Miss Richmond.
“I loved your latest oh-so-clear explanation of what we’re doin’ at the state fair,” Hudgins called over the noise of the engine.
“Do you really think I’d tell her we’re giving balloon rides?”
“Our engines will eventually put massive dirigibles floatin’ overhead. If we keep on your course.”
In Grant’s Bible study, as well as at church, the Holy Spirit had nudged him to reconsider his plan to create engines that could power massive balloons. “One day. But we really don’t need to discuss our business with her. She’s just here for the quilting exhibition. Leave it at that.”
His partner laughed into his gloved hand. “As if you believe she didn’t spark your interest.”
“Probably too much like her aunt Bonnie.” Although his uncle’s neighbor was turning out to be quite a peach, after all. By Mrs. Swanson’s report, she’d stuck with Sarah like glue all day.
“Do ya think Sarah is the same one Mrs. Swanson said buried two or three of her beaus?”
“We know about the one for sure.” Two or three? How did anyone get over that? He’d wondered how such a comely young woman could still be single at her age. She had to be nearing her late twenties.
“Denise told me it was some kind of bad accident and reported it in all the papers up north. But she didn’t say anything about another beau or two dyin’.”
Grant gripped the steering wheel, guiding the vehicle around a deep rut in Holt Road. “Mrs. Swanson, obsessed by death as she is, likely exaggerated. And yes, if I was a betting man I’d wager this prototype that this is the very niece she was discussing.”
“Want to take a chance on being number three or four, old man?”
Hudgins acted as though Jonetta had never existed. He had no intention of discussing this with his friend. It was off-limits. Wouldn’t serve any purpose to dredge up. He frowned as a heavy weight of sadness settled on his chest.
The two rode on in silence, save for the engine noise and the gentle wind. They’d had to light the battery-powered headlamps, and it helped but didn’t fully illuminate the road. They were operating on prayer and faith God would get them home, especially in some parts of the country road, rutted from wagon wheels.
“There’s the Swansons’ farm. Swerve to the left and miss that pothole.”
Grant maneuvered the vehicle around it then turned into the Swansons’ drive. Light glowed in the kitchen window. Sudden warmth burned in his heart. How soothing it must be to come home to a light in the window and loved ones waiting for you. With Jonetta, their home would have been an estate near his father’s, and their life a whirlwind of social engagements. Yet now, somehow, his heart longed to arrive and find Sarah opening a jar of her aunt’s famous peaches and adding a dollop of fresh-churned ice cream she and the children had made.
What a dolt I am. He had no children. What was he thinking? He had no wife. And he certainly didn’t farm, nor would he ever.
Lord, if You’re moving me in that direction, give me some kind of sign. I’m afraid. You know it. I can’t hide anything from You.
He parked the car and left the engine running, not wanting to restart it given they were simply dropping off the bicycle.
The screen door swung open. Lila waved to them, a lamp in her hand. She hung the kerosene lantern on the side of the house. “Come on in and see what we made!”
“Sure thing, sunshine!” Lee hopped out, removed the bike, and rolled it over beside the house.
Grant removed his driving gloves, lagging behind.
The door reopened. Sarah stood, lamplight illuminating her lovely face and feminine figure. Looking at her felt like coming home. Although he tried to shake off the feeling, Grant couldn’t. Chills coursed down his arms.
“Grant. Come in.”
“I’m coming.”
“Lila and some of her friends churned ice cream for the last hour, hoping you’d stop in.”
Mrs. Swanson popped her head out behind Sarah and waved. “Hurry up, if you want any of my blue ribbon peaches! Lee is about to pour himself the whole mason jar.”
Grant’s jaw dropped open. He’d asked. God had answered. Never had he thought the message would come via the state fair. But it just had.