“You don’ need the map,” he said. “I c’n find any of the exhibits…”
“What about in Chicago itself?” I asked, and he responded with a crooked grin.
“Prob’ly. I been there three times—all the way to the main downtown. Our room is closer here to the fairgroun’, but I went in wi’ me dad when he was lookin’ for work las’ spring.”
“Do you know how to find the Auxiliary Building?”
“Easy,” he said. “I been there once already. The ladies from London were here for some World’s Congress for Women or somethin’ like that, an’ they wen’ there t’ listen t’ speeches. That’s pretty much all they do there—people stan’ up an’ talk an’ then more people talk. It’s no fun at all—but I s’pose that’s where the lady wi’ the purple feather is goin’?”
“You guessed it,” I said. “I’m really hoping to avoid the trip into the city, if we can. The plan is to try and catch her before she gets on the train, but if I can’t get a moment to speak to her alone, we’ll need to follow them.”
“There’s a lot of differ’nt stations here, though…”
“They’ll be at the Sixtieth Street station—the one closest to where they’re having lunch.”
He looked as though he was about to ask how I knew this, so I tried a bit of redirection.
“Can you go find a garbage bin?” I asked, handing him the wrappers and banana peels and other remnants of our lunch. “I’m going to see if I can squeeze my feet back into these blood-y aw-ful hor-rid rot-ten shoes,” I added, whacking the boots with my hand with each syllable. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to trade with me? Yours might be too small, but I bet they’d still be more comfortable.”
He giggled and shook his head. “No, Miss Kate. I don’ even think me mom would trade you—those boots are pretty enough if all you gotta do is sit, but not too practic’l for workin’ or walkin’ or stuff.”
“Amen to that, kiddo.”
“So why did you buy them?” he asked.
I felt a slight pang as I remembered asking my mom that same question about her heels the night we had dinner with Katherine. It seemed like an eternity had passed instead of only a little more than a month.
“They were a gift. I’d much rather have on my Skechers,” I answered, holding up my hand as he started to ask the inevitable question. “And yes, those are something else they sell in New York.”
I waited until he was out of sight to pull a small tube of antiseptic cream and an adhesive bandage from my bag—both of which were almost certainly not for sale in 1893, even in New York. After taking care of my feet, I pulled on my stockings and tackled the shoes. They took forever to get on without Connor’s buttonhook thingy, and they were still uncomfortable. The long soak in the lagoon seemed to have reduced the swelling a bit, however, and a quick test proved that I could walk without too much pain.
The embankment where we had eaten lunch was on the side of the lagoon closest to the Midway, only a few minutes’ walk to the Sixtieth Street station. We arrived a bit ahead of the expected twelve-forty-five departure so that we could, once again, find a place to sit relatively unobserved before Katherine’s group arrived. I sent Kiernan off to buy us a couple of subway tokens, just in case we did have to board, and to find us a spot on a bench.
Meanwhile, I doubled back one block to visit the “necessary” that I had spotted on our walk over. The “Public Comfort Station” was much larger and more modern than I had feared it might be, although the multiple layers of clothing were still a royal pain.
I was rearranging my bonnet in the small dressing mirror above the sink when I felt a light tap at my elbow. It was Katherine. She grabbed my arm and yanked me around the corner.
“I thought that I saw you coming in here,” she said in a low whisper. “Mrs. Salter—or whoever she is—followed me. She’s in there.” She jerked her head toward one of the stalls. “If you want to talk we need to leave now—we have only a few moments. I can’t seem to shake that woman.”
We dashed across the street toward the buildings that the various states had sponsored to parade their individual accomplishments, history, agriculture, and industry. The California Building was directly opposite the restrooms. I followed Katherine through the doorway and over to a gigantic tower made entirely of oranges, which I had to admit looked much more impressive in living color than it had in the black-and-white photos that I had seen. The display was apparently getting a bit overripe, however, as the unmistakable tang of molded citrus swirled in the air around us.