Chapter 9

CHAPTER9

When Lewis returned from securing the orange tree table in the dressing room, the young ladies crowded around Giovani to pet his long-eared bunny, but Ellie was not among them. If she’d retreated to her bedroom, he’d have no chance of gauging her reaction to the afternoon’s entertainment. But then he caught a movement on the balcony. Ellie sat on a wicker chaise, her white lawn dress draping her extended legs, in her hands, a thick book.

He crossed to the French doors and went out to join her. “What are you doing out here?”

She shrugged and made a move to sit up. “Just taking a moment after all the excitement.”

“Don’t get up on my account.” Lewis waved, and she resettled her skirt around her legs. “May I join you?”

“Of course.”

He settled on a matching rocker. “Quite pleasant out here.”

The balmy breeze lifted a strand of hair from Ellie’s pompadour. Pushing it back, she grimaced. “Much quieter.”

“Did you not enjoy the show?” Lewis fairly held his breath.

“Oh, I did. Although, at first, I admit, I had my reservations.”

“Such as?”

“I would not be a fan of conjuring or beheadings.”

Lewis laughed, although he’d faced these objections before. “Neither are we—which is why we made it clear when the hotel wanted to book Giovani that anything sensational or dark would not be a part of his show. He’s mainly a children’s magician, visiting not only fairs but hospitals and orphanages. He even sets up a show in the Philadelphia slums.”

She turned her head to the side. “You seem proud of him.”

“I am. It takes great skill to accomplish what he does with merely sleight of hand and…mechanics.”

Her gaze narrowed on him. “You are more than his financier, are you not?”

Lewis hesitated. “I am also his friend.”

“How did you meet?”

He laughed. “When he attempted to steal my billfold.”

“No.” Ellie’s mouth hung open.

“Indeed.” Lewis scooted back into his chair and rocked. “I was in my teens and he but a boy, an orphan living on the streets of South Philly.”

“Did you call the police?”

“No. I took him home with me and demanded he show me how he did it. He had many a trick up his sleeve to survive. My parents took him in, schooled him, and helped redirect his talents.”

“That was very good of them…and you. And these…mechanics.” Her eyes glowed with curiosity. “You are the inventor behind his shows, aren’t you?”

Lewis rubbed his hands together, his midsection aswirl. “You have pulled back the curtain, Miss Ellie.”

“Why?” She didn’t sound incredulous—merely mystified.

“Why not? It’s the age of wonder. The telephone, radiophone, and telautograph. The automobile. Flying machines! The kinetoscope, vitascope, and phantascope create moving pictures on film.” Lewis sat forward, unable to disguise his enthusiasm. “My company produces its share of practical inventions. These bring efficiency, order to our lives. But what I create for Giovani and the children brings wonder…joy…hope. It opens young minds to what may seem impossible.”

Her grip tightened on her book. “Will you show me?”

Surprise and pleasure escaped on a puff of breath. “Show you the inventions?”

“Yes. I want to see what you are so passionate about.”

“It’s not the invention, but what it produces. What it makes possible.”

“So will you?”

Her reaction was better than anticipated, but… “As with any magician, Giovani is very protective of his secrets.”

Ellie’s brows rose. “Are they not also your secrets? You don’t have to show me everything, just one or two of your most special creations.”

Lewis rubbed his jaw. “Is not the suspension of belief wherein the pleasure lies?”

“The pleasure lies in the knowing.”

A woman after his own heart. He tapped his lips with his finger.

Her eyes twinkled. “The Great Gaspachi wouldn’t have to know, though.”

He affected a shocked gasp. “Miss Hastings, are you encouraging subterfuge?”

She snickered. “I should think you of all people would see where it is occasionally beneficial.”

A warm laugh bubbled up. “Fine. Come to the east basement. You know where it is.” He shot her a wry glance, then consulted his watch. “Be there at eight o’clock, and I will let you in.” She smiled and drew a breath, but he held up a finger. “If, that is, you will tell me what’s so fascinating about your book as to draw you from your cousin’s birthday party.”

“Oh.” Ellie looked at the book, then held it against her chest, almost reverently. “Next to the Bible, this book is most precious to me—although it wouldn’t take much to draw me away from any party.”

“You don’t like parties?”

“I don’t like the way people act at them—as though they’re participating in a competition to be most clever, most amusing, and most attractive. I’m afraid I fall short at all of those.” Her lids hooded her eyes.

Lewis’s heart squeezed. “I don’t agree. I found your enthusiasm just now very attractive.” There. He’d said it. His pulse pounded as Ellie’s gaze swept up. Might as well reveal his hand, especially when her expression begged confirmation. “I also find your honesty very refreshing in a world where so much is not as it seems.” She radiated a beauty from within, making him question his conclusions about women.

“Including you, sir.” Ellie’s admission was whisper-soft.

“Then we have much to learn about each other. Will you tell me about this precious book of yours?”

She puffed a little breath and relaxed her hold on the spine, extending the volume to him. “These are my father’s stories which I compiled and had published after his death. I was looking through them again in hopes that they will inspire my own story.”

Lewis took the book and read the title aloud. “Tall Tales from the Patent Office.” His eyes shot up to hers. “Your father worked at the U.S. Patent Office—in Washington, D.C.?”

“Yes. Remember, I told you I was born there?”

He flipped open the title page. “Blake Hastings. Blake Hastings…” He refrained from tapping his head in an attempt to jog his sluggish memory. It couldn’t be. Couldn’t. “Would there be any way…no, I cannot ask…”

“Ask what? Pray, do ask.” Ellie leaned forward.

He closed the volume. “Would there be any way you would allow me to borrow this for a couple of days? Cora has been asking me to read to her at night, and I must admit, Anne of Avonlea is not my forte. She and I would both value your father’s writing.” He wasn’t ready to tell her all yet, not until he knew whether his suspicion was accurate, but this was one of those moments a bit of subterfuge might prove beneficial.

He didn’t expect the light laugh she sat back with. “Of course.”

“Of course?”

“Yes. You may take it. I have several copies.”

“Oh.” Lewis released his breath. “That makes me feel better about asking.”

“I would love for Cora to hear Father’s stories. Besides, it seems only fair—you agreed to show me something special to you, so I should compensate by doing likewise. Don’t you think?”

Her intimate smile turned his insides to that new-fangled cream of wheat. Increasingly, he realized the most special thing might be sitting right before him. And his tie to her might go back farther than either of them had suspected.

* * *

Lewis and Giovani were loading the orange table into the hotel’s enclosed cart when the dressing room door flew open. Giovani leapt to secure the cover around the contraption while Lewis turned to face Walter Hastings.

The man tugged his silk vest. “I just wanted to thank you again, gentlemen, for a delightful show. Mrs. Hastings is happy. Ada is happy. Your thoughtfulness meant so much to her.” The meaningful smile Walter bestowed on Lewis suggested he shared his wife’s renewed matchmaking hopes. “If today’s show was any indication, we can anticipate an unforgettable performance at the ball.”

“That is my intention, sir.” Giovani bowed, almost apologetic. “Although I am still working on my piece de resistance.”

Lewis gaped at him. “You haven’t decided on your closing act?”

“Eh.” The magician made a weighing gesture. “I’ve been considering my options. But today…today I had an idea. An epiphany. One with which you, sir, could help me.” He fixed Walter with his magnetizing stare.

“I?” Walter laid his hand on his own chest.

Giovani dropped his tone to a conspiratorial whisper. “The jewelry drive for the hospital is a cause close to my heart, since I often perform at hospitals. I have heard of your wife’s stunning necklace and her selfless offer to donate it. I can only think of one thing that would inspire more giving.”

“What is that?” Walter whispered back.

“If this necklace”—Giovani snapped his fingers and Walter jumped—“disappeared.”

Walter’s eyes bulged. “At the ball?”

“Before the ball. Imagine the alarm, the indignation.” Giovani flexed a dark brow. “The righteous rush to contribute. And then, of course, it would show back up, magically, the night of the gala.” He opened his hands, smirking enigmatically.

“Ah…” Walter rubbed his chin and rocked back on his heels, staring at Giovani.

Lewis restrained a laugh. This was why his friend made such a great showman—not just his sleight of hand, but the mesmerizing power of his personality. He could get anyone to believe anything. A little nudge from Lewis wouldn’t hurt either. “I must say, the necklace would make a stunning centerpiece for the show.”

Walter barked a little laugh as he backed toward the exit. “My wife would have my head on a platter if I just gave the necklace to you. Too bad you can’t do real magic and get inside that safe.” The challenge in his tone and the glance he cast toward the black-and-gold box in the corner was unmistakable.