Combustion (3 page)

Chapter Five

An unexpected knock at the door interrupted Astrid's light breakfast of toast and tea.

“I don't know what has gotten into you.” Josian pushed past Astrid into the flat without waiting for an invitation, untying the ribbons on her purple bonnet as she went. “Honestly, Astrid. You can't go mouthing off to everyone you meet. That was Eli Rutledge last night. Eli Rutledge.” She sank down onto Astrid's worn velvet sofa and placed her hat in her lap.

“I know who he was, thank you very much. And please, do come in.” She brought the teapot over with another cup, then sat across from her friend on one of her high-backed wing chairs and picked up her toast again. “I couldn't help it. You know how I get.”

“Cheeky and rude? Yes, I know very well.” Josian took Astrid's proffered cup of tea. “But you need to stop running people off. You need those social connections, you know.”

Astrid snorted in derision and swallowed some toast. “I don't need social connections from Eli Rutledge. He's just another pretty boy businessman who thinks women need saving. I've had enough of them for a lifetime. I can make my own way.” She thought about the men she'd dated, with their too-kind eyes and understanding smiles, wanting to save her from poverty and, ultimately, from independence. If she was going to get help, it wasn't going to be from a man.

“So are you going to rent a booth for the World's Fair?” Josian sipped from her teacup.

“I don't know. It's probably far beyond my price range.” The World's Fair would be an incredible opportunity, but she could barely pay her rent, let alone afford to rent a booth at the most well-known event in the world. “But I'm definitely entering the contest. I'll scrape together the entry fee somehow.”

“Oh dear, I'd love to help you out. Maybe I can borrow some money from Warren.”

Josian's smile was a bit too sympathetic, and Astrid felt herself bristle. Of course her friend meant well, but her offer was yet another reminder that she'd married into money. Josian's seamstress work, her affiliation with the Tea and Talk society, these were hobbies for her rather than a financial necessity. The two women may have grown up together, but their lives were quite different now.

Astrid forced herself to answer calmly. The offer came from a place of love. “No, that's all right. I told you before, you can support my business, but that's all I need.” The smile felt tight on her face.

“Of course! I almost forgot. I'm not just here to scold you about your abhorrent behavior last night.” Josian shook her small purple handbag. “I'm making some purchases. Eleanor from my bridge club is getting married in a few weeks. She's too shy to come here herself, but she certainly won't turn down a few gifts.”

Astrid smiled, her entire mood brightening again, and she immediately went to her display case. “I can help with that.”

Josian passed over a little wooden bullet vibe and hefted a larger model, the same type as the one Astrid had been using quite frequently lately. “What do you think of this one?”

“It's my current favorite.” Astrid pointed out the features. “This dial here is for the main shaft, and this one here is for the nub, which lines up quite nicely outside. Even better, they're variable.” A turn of the dial made the vibrations escalate in intensity, then settle back down.

“How does it work?” Josian turned it over in her hand, looking at the bottom. “Does it charge, like the others?”

“This one runs on compressed air. It's complicated.” Astrid pointed to a small vent on the bottom. “Don't block that, and you'll be all set.”

Josian turned the dials on and back off again. “Fascinating. I don't know how you figure all this out. I can barely work the oscillating laundry crank.” She smiled and shrugged, handing the toy back to Astrid. “But I guess that's why you're selling, and I'm buying. I think it's too complicated for Eleanor, but I'll definitely take one for me.”

As Josian continued to peruse the selection, Astrid began wrapping up the new item, admiring the piece as she did so. All those hours painstakingly shaping the wood and polishing each toy until it was as smooth as glass, the varnishing, the delicate tiny gear work, she was sure this design would be her most popular.

After a little nudge from Astrid, Josian eventually chose a slender brass cylinder, the “beginner's vibrator”, for Eleanor. Another piece of brown paper and string and this one was wrapped too, as Josian counted out the pounds from her handbag. The transaction finished, her friend still seemed in no hurry to leave, holding her wrapped purchases as she stared at the cabinet with a blank expression on her face.

“Was there something else you wanted to see?”

Josian shook her head, seeming to come back to herself, then looked to Astrid. “I was just thinking about what a shame it is that you can't open your shop yet.”

With one finger, Astrid traced the outline of the end table, a sudden lump in her throat making speech difficult. She suppressed the emotion. “Yes, well, the World's Fair prize money would go a long way toward making that happen.”

“Then you'd best get right on it!” Josian flashed a bright smile at Astrid, who returned it with a bit of difficulty.

“I certainly will. Are you all packed for your trip?” Josian and her husband always spent May in their summer home up north.

Josian sighed. “Almost. I swear, it's such a chore, this packing. You'd think after five years of going up north, it would get easier, but it never does.” She hugged Astrid close. “I'm going to miss you. Will you come up for a few days? You know you're always welcome.”

It would be nice to see Josian, but a week in the same house as Warren might make Astrid go mad. “No, I think I'm going to need the time to work on my World's Fair entry.”

Josian pulled back. “Well, I'll write all the time. Write back, will you? If you're not too busy. I'll be back in time for the Fair opening, and maybe we can go together!”

“Maybe.” She returned Josian's kiss on the cheek. “Take care of yourself.”

After Josian finally left, Astrid leaned her back against the door. Usually, she felt lonely during Josian's month away, but her mind was already full of thoughts about the World's Fair. It might be nice to have the time alone. Her gaze landed on her cabinet of toys. None of those was unique enough to win the contest. If she wanted even a chance at the prize money, she would need something truly special.

She had no idea what to design.

Ever since arriving home the night before, she'd been mulling over possible ideas for new toys. Nothing was right. The world of felicitation devices seemed suddenly too narrow: how could she improve on what she'd already created?

It had always been easy, in the past. She'd created every possible combination of oscillating and rotating and telescoping designs, and while she hadn't built them all—some, for instance, required parts she couldn't afford—none of them seemed quite right for this competition. If she wanted to win, she needed something unique.

Time was wasting. Astrid couldn't be delayed by ridiculous barriers like a lack of inspiration. She would go out and find inspiration.

Chapter Six

Astrid's first stop was the bank building, headquarters for this year's World's Fair. Her enthusiasm dimmed slightly when she saw the queue of people stretching down out of the front door and right to where she stood, half a block away.

The young man at the end of the queue doffed his hat when she tapped him on the shoulder.

“Excuse me, is this the queue for World's Fair paperwork?”

He nodded. “Yes, miss.”

She peered past him. “It's a very long queue.”

“Yes, miss.”

Astrid settled in behind him to wait. He didn't seem interested in talking further, and she didn't press the conversation.

When at last she reached the front, the older gentleman sitting behind the desk extended a sheaf of papers and gestured to the pad of names in front of him. “Sign your name.”

“I have some questions.”

He looked up, surprised, and scratched the healthy growth of white whiskers on his cheek. “All right, miss. Ask away.”

“Do I need to rent a booth to enter the contest?”

He shook his head. “No, miss. The contest entries will be handled separately.”

“And is the contest open to any kind of invention?”

“Yes, miss. The winner of each category will receive a cash prize, and the winner of the entire Fair will receive the prize of ten thousand pounds.” His mutton chop sideburns twitched as he spoke, as if he were chewing his words, and she found herself momentarily fascinated by them. “The Fair date is coming up awfully soon, you know.”

“I know. Thank you.” And she was off, winding her way back toward the door and out into the bright, clear air, reading as she walked.

Fees were listed on the first page of the packet. Booth rental cost fifty pounds per day or 500 pounds for the entire duration of the fair, which was the equivalent of five months' rent. She certainly wouldn't be renting a booth. But the contest entry fee was only ten pounds, an affordable price. She skimmed the rest of the paperwork, aimlessly wandering through town. Finally, she stopped and tucked the sheaf of papers into her purse, then looked up to see that she was standing in front of the tall glass windows of Rutledge Fine Crafts and Handiworks.

As soon as she realized where she was, she felt a wave of annoyance mingled with curiosity. She'd never actually been inside Eli's shop. All she knew of him was his reputation, and their tense meeting the previous night had been less than illuminating. It was hard not to feel jealous in front of those broad glass windows with their finely painted golden letters; this was the manifestation of all her goals and dreams. He had even hung a sign in the window:
Rutledge Fine Crafts and Handiworks: As Appearing In This Year's World's Fair!

She should probably keep going, but even as the thought passed through her mind, she was turning the handle and walking inside.

Chapter Seven

When the bell rang above the door, at first Eli didn't look up. He loved helping customers, but it was always difficult to set aside whatever task he was working on, in this case replacing two tiny gears in a malfunctioning pocket watch. Not until he had clicked the last piece into place did he look up, and by that point, his customer had turned her back to him to examine a display table.

It took almost a minute to recognize her. For one, she'd dressed more conservatively, her plain brown skirt brushing her ankles, but her short, tousled brown hair was so distinctive that he looked closer. And when she turned, her profile came into view. Eli's fingers fumbled on the pocket watch he was still holding, and both small gears popped out of place, rolling across the countertop and disappearing into a crack in the floorboard. For some reason, Astrid Bailey was in his shop.

Was she avoiding eye contact deliberately, or was she so interested in his watches that she really hadn't noticed him? Leaving the broken watch where it lay, he walked over to her. He had just about reached her shoulder when she looked up, her face immediately coloring, possibly from her surprise at his proximity.

Her hand was small and warm in his, and when he kissed it, he felt her fingers tighten almost imperceptibly. What could he make of that? Standing, he didn't release her hand right away, enjoying the flush that had now crept down across her collarbones. “Miss Astrid Bailey. A pleasure to have you in my shop.” He probably should have stopped there, as propriety required, but he had to add, “Especially since everything about me offends you.”

He was rewarded by the deepening of her blush and her averted eyes. “Ah. Yes.” Her gaze fell on their still-joined hands, and she tugged her fingers from his. “I should apologize, Mr. Rutledge. I've been told I sometimes speak without thinking.” That wasn't exactly an apology, though, and when she met his eyes again, she didn't look altogether contrite.

“So is that what brings you into my shop today? Apologizing for your reprehensible manners last night?” When her gaze hardened, he smiled a bit. Here, in his own domain, it was fun to tease her. “I kid, of course. Regardless, I must confess, I'm surprised to see you here.”

“Yes, well, I was out in the neighborhood, and I decided to stop in and see the competition.” Her thin smile bespoke of untold secrets.

Eli raised his eyebrows. “So I'm competition? If I recall correctly, you were somewhat evasive about your own inventions last night.”

With a shrug, Astrid looked back down at the display of watches, running her fingers across the black velvet tablecloth. “It's nothing that would concern you. I sell products primarily for women.”

He took her hand off the tablecloth and examined it. “But you're not just an inventor. You're a machinist.”

Her surprise was unmistakable, and she looked down at their joined hands. “How did you know that?”

“Your hand has a slight and wonderful aroma of engine grease, and there's a tiny bit under this fingernail.”

For the second time in a few minutes, she drew her hand out of his again. She seemed confused about what to do with her hands, and eventually folded her arms.

The mystery of her business intrigued Eli. “So you invent machines for women? Like home goods?” He glanced at the back of his shop, where he displayed his own selection of handiworks and home goods. This would explain why she saw him as a competitor.

Astrid raised one eyebrow. “Home goods? Do you think we never get out of the kitchen?”

“What other kind of machines for women are there?”

Looking skyward, she shook her head slightly in disbelief. “Never mind. You wouldn't understand.”

His sudden frustration stemmed less from not knowing, and more from the idea that she wouldn't tell him. “Where's your shop?”

“I work from my flat. You know, on contract.”

Eli leaned against the wall and thrust his hands into his pockets. “I have to confess, Miss Astrid Bailey, I'm intrigued by a woman machinist. I've never met one.”

“Well, you can't say that anymore. You know one now.” Her cheeky grin challenged him.

“And a lovely one, at that.” Perhaps he was being too forward, but he couldn't mistake the chemistry between them. He enjoyed this sort of harmless flirtation, as long as it didn't get too out of hand.

She blinked at him, clearly nonplussed, and changed the subject, picking up a watch off the table and looking it over. “I see you have your little World's Fair sign up in the window. That must be nice.”

Not that he'd wanted to hang up the sign, of course, but he had a reputation to protect. Everyone was expecting his entry. Rutledge Fine Crafts and Handiworks had always entered the World's Fair. He recalled his conversation with Astrid from the previous night. “Have you made up your mind about entering? Finished considering those variables?”

“I didn't realize you were taking notes on our conversation.” Astrid set the watch carefully back on the table. “But yes, if you must know, I just picked up the paperwork. Ten thousand pounds is a lot of prize money to turn down.”

“So you think you have a chance at winning?”

Maybe that came out more skeptical than he intended. She pressed her lips together. “As much of a chance as anyone, I suppose. Maybe more. I happen to have a very good idea.”

“And what would that be?”

Astrid raised both eyebrows, surprised and amused. “You're persistent, I'll give you that. I hope you don't think I'm going to tell you my winning idea.”

He smiled back. “It was worth a try.”

The bell over the door chimed again, and both looked up as an older couple came into the shop.

“I'll let you get back to work while I look around.” Astrid slipped past him, her arm barely brushing his, and he had no choice but to leave her and assist his latest customers.

While they were examining a pair of watches, Eli leaned back on the front counter again and watched Astrid walk around. Even in the more conservative outfit she wore, she looked fantastic. He loved the way that leather corset laced up, pressing her breasts up and out, their tops barely visible above the neckline of her blouse. When she turned away, he could see the swing of her hips beneath her gathered skirt. He wondered if she knew how sexy she was without even trying.

Astrid lingered for a while in the housewares section, staring at an automated back massager that was one of his best-selling creations. The device itself was constructed like a chair with an open back. Large, round wooden balls on short pistons moved back and forth, spaced evenly along the open frame of the chair, where they would massage the back of whoever sat there. The machine was running, each piece moving exactly as it should.

The elderly couple was still deciding between the two watches, so he strolled back to Astrid. “You can try it, if you like.”

She jumped, turning away from the machine. Blushing, she smiled a slightly naughty smile that brought a dozen improprieties into his thoughts.

Her response tumbled out. “No, thank you. It's quite intriguing, though.” She glanced toward the machine again before thrusting her hand into his. “I think I'll be going now. It was a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Rutledge.”

Why the sudden haste? “The pleasure was all mine.” The polite thing to do would be to shake her hand, but he couldn't resist kissing it again, his lips lingering a moment longer than was proper.

Then she was gone, almost running from the shop. He had missed something, and he didn't know what it was. Puzzled, he turned back to the watch-shopping couple now approaching the counter.