At Every Turn by Anne Mateer Page A

I’d use to describe Mother, though I supposed she was happy on occasion.
    And then I remembered Grandmother’s story, how she’d told Mother and Father again and again. He didn’t need another sermon from me. And it certainly wouldn’t help my efforts to get to Chicago. I needed to redirect the conversation.
    Quick as a turn at full speed, I made my request. “I want you to take me with you this weekend. To Chicago. To the race.”
    His large hand slapped the desktop, sending papers fluttering to the ground. “I told him not to breathe a word.”
    “Don’t blame Webster, Father. I wheedled it out of him.”
    His lips twitched. Then he chuckled. “I should have known I couldn’t keep a race from you. Especially one in Chicago.”
    “Of course not.” I flashed a saucy grin. “Why else would you have had Webster building that car?”
    He huffed and took another puff on his cigar. “The car was his idea, actually. He came to me and asked if I wanted to invest. Some prototype he developed. That man has aspirations far above a mere mechanic.”
    Webster’s design? I kept the smile on my face, but my heart smarted. He’d never told me. But I couldn’t think about that now. “So you’ll take me with you?”
    He lumbered to his feet. “Now, Ally, I won’t have time to chaperone you properly. I have work to do while I’m there.”
    “I don’t need to be tended like a hothouse flower. I lived in Chicago. Remember?”
    “Yes, but this is different. This is—” A knock at the door stopped his words.
    Lawrence poked his head inside. “Oh. I’m so sorry, Mr. Benson. I’ll come ba—”
    “Wait, Trotter.” Father flicked the ash of his cigar into a square of tin. “Are you an auto-racing fan?”
    Lawrence swallowed, his gaze cutting to mine before returning to my father’s. “Yes, sir. I suppose I enjoy a race as much as the next man.”
    “Fine. Have you considered attending the event in Chicago this weekend?”
    “This weekend? No, I hadn’t considered it.”
    I tapped my fingers on Father’s desk. What exactly was he up to?
    “Any reason you couldn’t go? Social calendar isn’t full, is it?”
    “No, sir. Nothing to keep me here.” He looked at me once more. I gave him a small smile.
    “Perfect. You’ll accompany us to Chicago, then. I could use your input on a few business opportunities I’ll be considering while I’m there. And of course I’ll feel better if Ally has an escort on race day.”
    I suppressed a groan, careful to keep my eager expression intact. Now I had an escort for the day—and one that would report back to Father. How would I escape to drive?
    Webster would not be pleased.
    But if I balked, Father might turn suspicious. I gulped down my anxiety. I’d have to untangle this mess later. “I think that sounds perfect, Father.”
    Then a solution burst into my head like fireworks on a starless night. “And if I can persuade Mother to come along, too, she and I could spend some time together.” As long as Mother and Lawrence each imagined me to be with the other, everything might work out.
    Father grunted and plopped back into his chair. “Persuade your mother to come along, if you like. I doubt it will take more than a suggestion. Trotter, walk her to the car. Then you and I have work to do.”
    I stooped to kiss Father on the cheek once more before Lawrence escorted me out the door.

    “You don’t mind coming to Chicago with us, do you?”
    Lawrence held the door open as we stepped into the heat of the day. “Of course not. I’m thrilled. Not only to see the race, but to accompany such a lovely lady.”
    We stopped at my car. He opened the door. I stepped behind it but made no move to slide into the seat. In spite of my need to excuse myself on race day, I found myself warming to him as a companion.
    “Have you made any more progress raising your money?” Lawrence leaned across the top of the door.
    My heart pumped harder as his face drew near mine.