The Davenports(28)

“Oh, of course! He’s not here. You know, I heard he returned from his first year at college with all sorts of ideas to change his family’s business and no intention to return to his studies. Mr. Davenport was positively livid.”

Ruby’s head whipped around. “How do you know this?”

“My cousin is Mr. Davenport’s secretary.” Agatha smiled, relishing the fact she knew something about the Davenports Ruby didn’t. Ruby imagined her spreading this news to anyone, whether they wanted to listen to her or not. It made the muscles in her neck tighten.

“I’d be careful if I were your cousin,” Ruby said coolly. “I doubt the Davenports would appreciate their business being discussed like tawdry gossip.” Smiling tightly, she folded her arms and turned back to the players on the field.

“Well,” Agatha started, her tone husky. “If you’re looking for something, or someone, to keep you interested, Mr. Barton is in the outfield.”

Ruby let her jaw slacken before searching the field for herself. Sure enough, Harrison stood not ninety feet away from her, hovering over third base. His back was straight, his broad hands braced against his knees. His entire focus was on the man swinging the bat over home plate. She found herself smiling in his direction, with Agatha staring at her intently.

“Careful,” Agatha warned. “Looking at a man like that may earn you some gossip of your own.”

As Mr. Barton had escorted her through the park, he’d talked about his work at the bank and his plans for the future, investing in Black businesses and starting a family—“Really setting down roots here in Chicago,” he’d said. She remembered how his eyes had lit up, and with a smile that was earnest and quietly confident. When he mentioned he was joining clubs, she pictured a dark, cigar-smoke-filled room, not a baseball field. It made her wonder what she wanted, beyond meeting her parents’ expectations.

Ruby glanced to where her mother stood. Always working for the campaign, Mrs. Tremaine was making her rounds, urging more Black voices to uplift the needs of the South Side. Oh, the scene she would make just to wipe the smirk off Agatha Leary’s face! As if she read it plain on Ruby’s, Agatha walked away, her nose turned up as she stalked over to the group of young ladies.

Though Ruby knew Agatha referred to the fact that Mr. Barton appeared to be calling on Ruby regularly, some part of her couldn’t help dredging up the words she’d overheard in the ladies’ lounge during her parents’ party. It was why her plan had to go off without a hitch. John’s attention was never so attuned to her as when she was on Mr. Barton’s arm. It was as if he suddenly remembered her. Sure, they had never been officially declared for each other, but there was an understanding between them that went beyond their parents’ expectations. They had both agreed to cool things off while he was away at school, but she didn’t expect him to come back quite so driven and focused. It was like all he cared about now was the carriage company—making motorcars instead of racing them.

Ruby knew Harrison Barton was the key to securing a proposal from John. He was eager and sweet and wanted to belong to the close-knit circle of their set, to become one of the more influential people in Chicago. He already hung on her every word. It’ll be simple, she thought. And once John returned to her, Mr. Barton could stay in the loop or fade back into obscurity.

Ruby eyed him now, noting his athletic build and the way his knickers hugged his calves.

This may even be fun.

At that moment, Mr. Barton glanced in her direction. He stood up, facing her more directly. He reached up and tipped his cap at her. He didn’t see the pitcher pull out of his stretch and adjust his stance. He didn’t see the release that quieted the crowd as it made its way to the player at home plate. The crack of the bat striking the ball was a warning with too-short notice. Athletes and bystanders alike watched helplessly as the ball made a line drive to his position behind third base.

It was like the world stopped. The game froze like a photograph. Then every player on the field turned to the body of Harrison Barton, sprawled across the clay and fresh cut grass. Ruby was sprinting before she fully registered what had happened. She crumpled the sides of her dress in her fists, freeing her ankles for speed as she rounded the fence, ran past the dugout, and onto the field. She gasped for breath, each one sharp at the back of her throat. She didn’t want to scream. The press of bodies obstructed her vision. The crowd that formed around him increased her panic. Why were they just standing there? She had to elbow her way through. The sight of his feet, toes pointed up to the sky, nearly unraveled her composure. Still, she pushed on, holding her breath to the point of dizziness.

When she finally made it to the middle of the crowd, Mr. Barton was sitting upright. A player from each team knelt beside him. They helped him to his feet and held him steady as he tested weight on his left foot. Relief flooded Ruby’s body so quickly, she missed many of the words they exchanged. She stopped herself from reaching for him. Her parents’ party was made slightly less miserable with Mr. Barton at her side, but still. They barely knew each other.

Ruby wrinkled her nose at the mixture of perspiration and grass clippings that clung to her. Did I just run into the middle of this ball game? She shook herself and looked up in time to catch Agatha’s smirk behind the fence. Agatha, the biggest gossip she knew.

“I’m all right,” Mr. Barton said, gently untangling himself. He held his hands up to keep his teammates at bay. The palms of his hands were scraped raw and a gash on his right wrist stretched to the elbow. His first unsteady step had them reaching for him again.