Hot and Steamy (10 page)

Mr. Greenberg was unaware of the sensation he was causing but Aunt Jean was not. Her fair eyebrows lowered on her forehead for a moment, and then she relented. The gentleman was behaving exactly like Uncle Bruce might when faced with a fascinating subject in his field. No doubt she was thinking too far ahead as to how nice it would be to have a second inventor in the family. Rosa poured tea for all of them. Mr. Greenberg took his cup and set it on the small table untasted.

With the gauge in one hand, he ran a hand down the face of the miniature dynamo. The reading must have pleased him, because he broke into a wide smile of wonder. Rosa smiled back. He didn't look up. His hand traced the negative and positive leads from opposite ends of the capacitor it fed, to the insulated connector at the base of the umbilical, and out along the thick cord to Rosa's breast. His long fingers spread out gently upon the disk attached to her skin. They probed the small connections that led to the wires that penetrated to her heart. Rosa could feel his hand's warmth and slight pressure through the thin bakelite, and lightning ran through her body. No man had ever touched her in that fashion in her entire life. She wished that he would continue his gentle explorations to the flesh on either side. Her body tingled, aching for more. Rosa realized how seldom someone touched her: only the chambermaid who helped her dress and an occasional hug from her aunt. She wanted a lover and husband. She turned her face up to Mr. Greenberg's, seeing that calm curiosity and fervent interest that was focused so intently upon the regulator's workings, and leaned toward him.
Look at me
, she willed him.
Look at me. See me
.

“A-hem!” Aunt Jean cleared her throat.

Mr. Greenberg came out of his reverie, and realized he had his hand planted on the chest of a respectable young lady. He jumped backward, his face suffused with scarlet.

“I am so sorry, Miss Lind. Please forgive me!”

I am sorry you stopped
, Rosa thought. She swallowed her disappointment. He really didn't see that the machine was attached to a living woman. “I understand scientists, Mr. Greenberg. No offense was taken.”

“Thank you,” Mr. Greenberg said. He paused, clearing his throat uncomfortably. “It is as I suspected. This machine is brilliant in concept. No other device has managed to keep a damaged heart beating—for years, I believe?” Rosa nodded. “It is a technological wonder, but it is like a very large shoe over a very tiny foot. It is so much larger than required for its purpose that it almost causes harm to what it protects. It's old technology.”

“Sir!” Aunt Jean protested. “That device took us five years to create!”

The gentleman dipped his head abashed. “My apologies, madam. I do keep speaking out of turn. To paraphrase a friend of mine, Dr. Louis Moore, scientific applications double in power as they halve in size every year or two. If you had kept on reinventing the regulator, by now it would be the size of a mantel clock, or even smaller. As it is, this is compact for its day and most well-made.”

“What do you propose, Mr. Greenberg?” Aunt Jean asked. She was only partly mollified at the compliment.

“What is the charge that it dispenses?”

“Ninety millivolts.”

He beamed. “Then I have the answer to the problem of size. My company, Tekno-Clocks, has a new pocket watch that has an alternating circuit to allow it to light up, for telling time in the dark. The lamp is driven by a small dynamo that winds up by means of a coiled spring.”

“Just like any other watch,” Aunt Jean marveled.

Mr. Greenberg nodded. “Just so. It would be my privilege to attempt to duplicate this machine in miniature, using the new technology.”

“When could it be done?” Rosa asked, suddenly interested. His visit might not yet be wasted. Even if
he
was not interested in her, he could free her enough that perhaps another man might look her way.

He turned to her. “I have prototype machines on my workbench. I could begin tomorrow, if you would like.”

Rosa was breathless at the thought of near-freedom. “Oh, yes!”

“Please call upon us at four,” Aunt Jean said. “Will that give you enough time? Then you may stay to dinner afterwards.”

Mr. Greenberg put away his tools and rose, the now-cold tea forgotten. “That would be perfect, Mrs. Rabenski. Miss Lind, until tomorrow?” He took her hand and bowed over it. Rosa felt his long fingers close over her small ones and smiled.

“Until then, sir,” she said.

 

Rosa knew from correspondence with her aunt and uncle that scientific progress took a long time, but it seemed absolutely endless when one was the subject of investigation. Mr. Greenberg knelt at her feet, a dozen small gadgets each with a clock face and twin bolts sticking out of the top ticking and humming on the floor where he had discarded them. He had come to the Rabenskis' town house daily for a week. He said little to her during his visits, but applied himself diligently to his investigations. Rosa was beginning to wish she could leave the regulator and her heart there in the sitting room and go read a book instead. She was never so aware of the oppressive noise the machine made, and how it obviated conversation. With a key he wound up a gold-cased device the size of a melon.

“The speed seems right, and it would run for eight days,” Mr. Greenberg muttered to himself, not for the first time. He listened, and then set the device down. “Too weak, and too great a variation in tempo.”

“What is it you are doing now, Mr. Greenberg?” Rosa asked.

He glanced up at her briefly, but continued to wind up another mechanism from his case, this one shaped like a huge walnut. “I am testing each of these units to see which might carry the voltage for the longest possible time in the smallest possible volume, Miss Lind. To carry out the test successfully, it will be necessary to attach one beside your regulator, and then briefly switch input from that to the unit. There is some risk involved, but I believe no pain.”

Rosa sat up bravely. “My life has little meaning as it is, Mr. Greenberg. And I am not afraid of pain.”

Mr. Greenberg appeared to be about to say something, then paused. He smiled slightly, took off his glasses and polished them on a handkerchief. “I, er, am glad to hear that. I applaud your courage, Miss Lind.” He put the glasses back on. “Let us try this unit, then.” He wound it up.

The patronizing devil!
Rosa fumed to herself, but she sat still as he clipped leads running from the golden device to her regulator and to the base of the umbilical on her breast. How dare he say that as if it
amused
him! She was ready to throw him out of the house. Only the prospect of going about the town virtually unburdened kept her from doing it. Every one of the devices he tested was smaller than a marketing basket, some only the size of a large orange. It was all she kept her hopes on. Her friends were already asking how serious Mr. Greenberg's suit was, since he was spending so many afternoons with her. She was humiliated to have nothing to tell them.

More gadgets and devices joined the first, until there was a veritable electrical laboratory arrayed on the tea table between Rosa and her regulator. Mr. Greenberg held his hand above a large black switch.

“Ready?”

Rosa sat up straight and nodded her head. He moved the lever.

The regulator went on hissing and pumping, but the current coming from it ceased. Rosa sensed an absence, not a presence, as the gadget took over stimulating her heart. It was not strong enough. Her heart began to flail at her ribs. She clutched them. Mr. Greenberg hastily threw the switch to its original position. She gasped with relief as the regulator's power resumed its task.

“Not that one, then,” he said. He disconnected the walnut device and picked another out of his bag.

“If I were not tethered to this tinker's cart of machinery, I would remove myself from here, Mr. Greenberg!” Rosa snapped. “Don't you have the decency to inquire after my health?”

“But I can see that you are all right,” he said, frowning so that lines formed across his broad brow. “Should I ring for your aunt?”

“No,” Rosa said, in exasperation. “No, go on.” She wanted the whole situation over with as soon as possible. Thankfully, Mr. Greenberg would be on his way to America in a week, and she wouldn't have to look at the top of his head any longer.

Aunt Jean had stopped sitting by them every minute. She dipped into the room occasionally to ask after the visitor's needs and take the temperature of Rosa's mood. Promptly at four, she whisked in just ahead of the parlormaid pushing the tea cart.

“And how is your progress?” she asked Mr. Greenberg. She settled herself in a chair covered with flowered chintz that went well with the green tea gown she had donned.

He pushed the goggles up on his forehead, giving him the air of a coal miner. “Slowly but steadily. I don't seem to be balancing the alternating current properly.”

“Well, perhaps I can assist you,” Aunt Jean said, pitching her voice over the regulator. “I am often my husband's second pair of hands.”

“That would be very helpful,” Mr. Greenberg replied.

“If you would care to wash up a bit, I'll fix you a plate. You must be starving!” Aunt Jean said.

Mr. Greenberg looked down at his front. Bits of wire, insulation and metal shavings decorated his waistcoat and trousers. He smiled at her. “If you will both excuse me for a moment, I will rejoin you as soon as I can.”

The parlormaid escorted him out of the room toward the lavatory. Rosa watched the door close behind him with annoyance.

“Not going well?” Aunt Jean murmured under the noise of the pistoning regulator.

“Not in any way,” Rosa said. “He acts as if I am not here, when he purports to be building a new regulator for me.”

Aunt Jean smiled. “He knows you are here, my dear. I'll prove it.”

After tea, Mr. Greenberg unwrapped one more gadget. Its copper-colored case was the size of a coconut shell and almost heart-shaped. He held it out to Rosa.

“This is a unit I am very proud of,” he said. “It is adjustable, and runs on a spring made for an eight-day clock that is one of my finest timepieces. The dynamo is one of the most reliable I have ever made. Shall we give it a try?”

“Yes, of course.”

He wound it with a small gold key. It let out a softly comforting tick-tock sound, exactly as all the others had. Rosa wondered why, if this mechanism was his finest, he hadn't tried it first, but watched as he turned the adjustment switch on the face to the right, from sixty beats per minute up to seventy-two, and set the dynamo's power lever to ninety millivolts. With Aunt Jean's help, he hooked it to the leads and all the gauges. When he rose to attach the black switch to the umbilical near the body of the regulator, Aunt Jean reached over to the ticking device and tweaked the lever ever so slightly up. She shot a significant look at Rosa, who frowned. Mr. Greenberg sat down on the stool at her knee and held up the switch.

“Ready, Miss Lind?” he asked.

“Yes.”

Aunt Jean took her hand and squeezed it. Rosa held on as Mr. Greenberg threw the switch.

There was no shock, as there had been with several of the devices. The ease of transition surprised her. She breathed normally. Mr. Greenberg beamed at her.

“How are you doing?”

“Very well,” she said, pleased. “Very well indeed.” Her heart was getting the proper stimulus. Blood moved as it was meant to by nature. She smiled. Mr. Greenberg smiled back.

Then the stimulus became too much. Her heart was beating faster than usual. Not enough that anyone but she would be aware of it. Blackness rose in her eye and her blood pounded in her ears. Too fast. Her aunt had increased the pace of the clock regulator. She reached for the device to turn it down. Aunt Jean shook her head and held her hands firmly. Rosa tried to speak, but it felt as if her heart was in her throat.

Mr. Greenberg saw that she was in distress. “What is it? What is it, Miss Lind?” he asked.

Rosa opened her mouth to tell him, but the room went dark, and she heard nothing more.

When her vision cleared, she was reclining in a very warm chair scented with bay rum. A scratchy cloth was being applied to her cheeks and forehead, and something was puffing warm air on her face.

“Darling Miss Lind, are you all right? Can you speak? What did I do?”

The scratchy cloth was Mr. Greenberg's unshaven face, as he kissed her again and again. The warm air was his breath. She tilted her head back.

“What happened?” she asked.

He looked relieved and abashed. “Are you all right?”

Rosa tried to sit up. He took her arms and righted her against the sofa back. She leaned away from his grasp. He seemed reluctant to let her go. “I am fine. What happened?”

“When I switched from your regulator to my device, I must have miscalculated the voltage,” he said. “I am so sorry! Have I done you harm? I would never want anything ill to happen to you. I would rather wish all the woes of the world on myself instead.” His brow was wrinkled with concern. He clutched her hand. “My dear, dear young lady.”

Rosa frowned, looking down on their joined hands in confusion. Was this the distant man who for a week had only had eyes for her machinery? “Your declaration puzzles me, sir. We've only just met.”

Mr. Greenberg smiled a little shyly. “The truth is that I have seen you across the room on many an occasion over these last months, Miss Lind. You are so very beautiful, but you seemed to me as remote as a mountaintop. I felt that I could not approach you until I could offer you something tangible, to prove I might be worth your interest. It was only last week I was ready to ask your aunt to introduce me to you.”