Bicycle Built for Two by Alice Duncan Page B

entered the restaurant. Taking out his gold pocket
watch and squinting at it, Alex realized the day wasn’t far
advanced. It was, in fact, rather early for luncheon, but he still
considered this move a brilliant one on his part.
    He dug into his own lunch with relish. He
hadn’t realized how hungry he was. Kate, he noticed, looked
slightly daunted at the huge amount of food Herr Gross had set
before her. “Don’t worry about finishing it,” he said, feeling
benevolent. “I won’t scold you for not cleaning your plate.” He’d
thought he was being funny.
    Evidently, he’d thought wrong. “This could
feed my brothers and me for two days, Mr. English. I guess we
haven’t learned how to waste food yet. Maybe when I get rich, we
will.”
    Alex expelled a breath of exasperation.
“Perhaps when you get rich, you’ll learn some manners, as well.” He
stabbed at another piece of sausage and delivered it to his mouth
and followed it up with a bite of potato. Miss Kate Finney was
possibly the most exasperating female he’d ever met in his life. He
absolutely hated it that she viewed him with contempt.
    His astonishment was real when he saw the
wretched female appear to be ashamed of herself. He was even more
taken aback when she said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be
hateful.”
    Since he was still chewing, Alex grunted.
    “I’m not used to people doing nice things
for me. Thank you.” It sounded as though the last two-word sentence
nearly choked her.
    Alex decided not to prolong the argument
with a bitter retort. Rather, after he’d swallowed, he said,
“You’re welcome. Now eat your lunch.”
    She apparently couldn’t make herself thank
him again, because she only nodded, cut off a small bite of
sausage, roll, and sauerkraut, and lifted it to her mouth. It was a
pretty mouth. Alex had noticed that before. He didn’t dare watch
her closely, for fear of igniting that ghastly temper of hers, but
he did study her surreptitiously as he sipped more of his beer. She
was still ill at ease; that much was plain, and it made his
interest in her and her circumstances grow. He doubted that she’d
ever feel at ease in his company, but he decided he’d make a push
to get her to relax. As long as his association with her mother was
a fixed thing—until the poor woman died, he thought unhappily—he
couldn’t very well avoid Kate.
    In an attempt to achieve detente, he said,
“I like to put some of this mustard on my sausage and kraut. It
brings out the tang.”
    Kate lifted her gaze from her plate, where
it had been stuck. “Yeah?” She shrugged with a fair imitation of
her usual insouciance. “Maybe I’ll give it a try. It’s pretty tangy
already.” A fleeting grin decorated her face.
    Alex took heart. Maybe she wasn’t a hopeless
case. He grinned back. “It is that, all right. I like it.” Taking a
chance that speaking of his own mother might make her feel more
comfortable, he said, “My mother doesn’t make sauerkraut. I guess
that’s because my family’s from a different part of Europe, and
it’s not in our heritage.”
    Her mouth twisted wryly. “You mean your
mother cooks? You haven’t hired somebody to cook for her?”
    He laid his knife and fork on his plate,
lifted his napkin, and patted his lips, glaring at her the while.
When he set his napkin back in his lap, he said, “Dash it, Miss
Finney, do you always have to say something provocative every time
anyone says anything at all to you? I was attempting to forge some
kind of bond between us.”
    She looked at him cautiously. “A bond? Why a
bond? What sort of bond?”
    He flung his arms out,
barely missing Herr Gross. “ Any sort of bond! I have, if you’ll recall, begun
caring for your mother. I don’t expect your thanks or your
gratitude, but life might be more pleasant if you’d stop snapping
at me every time I extend a comment in friendship.”
    A lengthy pause preceded her next words.
“Friendship?”
    If he ever, God forbid, met