and somewhat bow-legged. He usually keeps the forefinger of his right hand in his vest pocket because it's slightly malformed. Anyway, he always teases me about running a big business too with our Everleigh Club. Well, I realized if I took Cathleen in for her wedding gown, Marshall Field might see me and come over and make some joke about the Club. I could not let that happen in front of Cathleen. You do understand?'
'I do.'
'I'm asking you to escort Cathleen to Marshall Field's in my place and help her select her wedding gown. I told Harold
T. Armbruster when we all lunched with him that I wanted a white satin gown with lace for Cathleen. I'd like you to help her select something along that line. Price is no object. Will you do that this afternoon?'
'I'd be delighted,' Karen said with enthusiasm.
Karen had welcomed the opportunity to get away from the Club, where she had begun to feel guilty performing as a spy for Mayor Harrison. It had been all right in the beginning, when there had been only the mayor to satisfy, but now there was someone more important to satisfy – Minna's nephew, Bruce. Karen felt less and less pleased about being responsible for exposing Minna and Aida to their relatives.
Further, there was another reason that Karen welcomed the opportunity to go shopping with Cathleen. It would be an opportunity to discuss Bruce Lester with his sister. Karen wanted to know everything possible about him.
Because she was in love with him.
Because she wanted to find out from Cathleen if he was really in love with her.
With an effervescent, talkative Cathleen in tow, Karen descended from the electric streetcar at the corner of State and Washington streets.
Alongside her on the cobblestone street, Karen could hear Cathleen's excitement as they approached the mammoth department store. Marshall Field's was twelve storeys high and it occupied the entire city block between State Street and Wabash Avenue, and between Washington and Randolph.
They walked to the Washington Street entrance and were greeted royally by the liveried doorman. Inside, they crossed the highly polished black marble floor. House detectives, well-dressed clerks, and floorwalkers with carnations in their lapels blended in with crowds of shoppers.
Briefly, Karen led Cathleen on a tour of the showcases, pressing forward to see the array of gloves, powder boxes,
and jewellery illuminated by the pink overhead globes with their new electric bulbs. Karen pointed out the store's library, furnished with green leather chairs and Oriental rugs. They paused to visit the elegant powder room, a spacious expanse of pale-green travertine walls, silver mirrors, and green willow rockers.
They took an elevator to the top floor, where a salesman proudly informed them there was a cold storage vault that held 25,000 fur coats. Then they went down to the floor that sold muffs and hats, and after that to the lace counter, where they saw ruffled parasols in white, black, and ecru. Finally, they toured the yard goods section, wandering through endless aisles of silk, cotton, woollens, and chiffon with hand-sewn beading.
When they reached the display of lavish wedding gowns, a tall, regal saleswoman with bunned, grey hair piled atop her head, introduced herself.
'I am Mme Judith. May I help you?'
Karen nodded. 'My name is Karen Grant, and this is Cath-leen Lester. Cathleen's the bride-to-be.'
'Congratulations, Miss Lester,' said Mme Judith. 'May I bring you our newest styles?'
'Oh, that won't be necessary,' Cathleen exclaimed. 'I see the gown I want.'
She reached out her hand and touched the gown draped on a waxen store mannequin. The gown was made of heavy white satin and trimmed with rose point lace. A train of satin and lace flowed from a crown of orange blossoms set upon the mannequin's head.
'You have the best taste,' Mme Judith stated. 'This is our finest import from Paris.'
'I only hope Alan likes it,' said Cathleen.
'He'll adore it,' Karen assured her.
Mme Judith was removing the wedding gown from the form. 'I think this is your size, young lady,' she said. 'Why don't you try it on?'
The saleswoman carried the gown into die fitting room, and Cathleen and Karen followed. As Cathleen removed her outer garments her eyes remained fastened on the gown. 'It's beautiful. I was just thinking how lovely it would look on you.'
'On me?' said Karen. 'I haven't got anyone to marry.'
As Karen assisted her in getting into the gown, Cathleen said, 'I know someone who would like to marry you.'
'Who?'
'My brother Bruce.'
'He hasn't shown the slightest interest in me.'
'Oh, he cares for you,' said Cathleen. 'He's always speaking of you when we're together.'
'Why doesn't he speak to me?' said Karen.
Cathleen was adjusting the gown. 'Maybe because he feels he can't. Maybe because he realizes he's in big financial trouble.'
'You mean trying to raise money for your father?'
'Yes, that first. And then he must figure out how he can provide for a wife and himself.'
'You're trying to tell me he may consider marrying Judith Armbruster to – to take care of everything.'
'Well, unless something else works out.'
'What else can work out?'
'His long shot hope is the race,' said Cathleen.
'The what?'
'The American Derby day after tomorrow.'
Karen shook her head. 'Everyone thinks his horse can't win.'
'Bruce hopes he will, but I too believe it's a long shot.'
'I'd bet the winner is the odds-on favourite, Judith Armbruster.'
'We'll see,' said Cathleen.
She primped in front of a mirror. 'What do you think?'
'Gorgeous,' said Karen. 'It makes me happy for you.'
But it made her more miserable than ever for herself.
The morning of the American Derby was warm, but the sun stood high and clear and the temperature rose steadily. By afternoon it was hot. Just what Snapper Garrison had earlier hoped for and even predicted, Bruce Lester reminded himself as he walked into the stable area, accompanied by Karen and his veiled Aunt Minna.
Frontier was in front of his stall, placidly chewing some lumps of sugar as Snapper Garrison kept circling him, carefully supervising the trainer saddling the colt. Garrison watched while the saddle was placed on a cloth over the withers, then secured with a leather cinch belt. As the belt was threaded and tightened through the buckle, he turned to greet Bruce, Karen, and Minna.
'Welcome,' Garrison said. He mopped his brow. 'Perfect day. Couldn't ask for a better one.'
'You wanted it hot,' said Bruce. 'Why?'
Garrison's smile was enigmatic. 'You'll see, boss.'
'How does he ride?' asked Bruce. 'You've been working with him.'
Garrison patted the horse's flank. 'He's fast – too fast at the break,' said Garrison. 'By the time he reaches the mile he begins to wear down.' He grinned. 'I hope to change all that in the Derby.'
Bruce was not optimistic. 'Apparently no one else thinks he has any chance. The odds on Frontier are fifteen to one. The odds on The Picket are three to five. The Picket's an overwhelming favourite.'
'As he should be,' Garrison agreed. 'He's a big, powerful horse.'
A bugle sounded from the dirt track inside the wooden stands of Washington Park.
Snapper Garrison listened, and then put his foot in the stirrup.
'You still think we have a chance?' Bruce grumbled. 'Even though we're fifteen to one?'
Garrison swung his small frame on to the saddle. 'I never heard of an oddsmaker winning a silver cup.'
Minna stepped forward, closer to her nephew. Digging into her purse, she pulled out a wad of tickets. 'I think
