A Great Catch (7 page)

“Stop right there, Katherine Graham!”

Kate picked up her pace, but Ethel’s skirts continued to swish with tick-tock precision behind her.

“Don’t you dare ignore me.”

With a sigh, Kate stopped and turned. She spotted Millie trying to catch up. Kate released a slow breath with more patience than she felt. Sometimes her sisters tended to mind everyone’s business except their own. Holding out a wicker basket on the tip of her finger, she let it swing back and forth. “I’m not ignoring you, Ethel. If you two would like to join me in gathering flowers, then come right along. I want to get a bouquet before the rain comes in.”

“Flowers for the table?” Panting, Millie waved a hand in front of her perspiration-dotted face. “What a wonderful idea.”

“I thought so.” Kate continued down the path until she reached a thicket of wild rosebushes, their five-petaled pink blossoms winking at the sun.

Ethel propped her hands on narrow hips. “Katherine, enough. I want to know if you are encouraging Emily’s carousing with that Stockton boy.”

“She is not carousing.” Kate snipped a stem and tucked the bloom in her
basket.

“But you gave him permission to court her?”

Kate glared at Millie, who shrugged. Only her youngest sister had been around when Carter spoke to her concerning Emily. She should have known she’d not keep the information to herself. “He asked if he could take her out for ice cream or supper, depending on when the opportunity to ask developed.”

“And you agreed?” Ethel pursed her lips. “You, of all people, should know better.”

“What I know is Carter has been kind to Emily.” Kate pointed the tip of her scissors at her sister. “And he’s expressed an interest in getting to know her better. Aren’t you the ones who want her to find a husband? I’d think you’d both be quite happy with this turn of events.”

“But that boy’s father did everything in his power to destroy your security after Ethan died.”

“You’re absolutely right. Angus Stockton was a ruthless businessman, but that does not mean his son is like him.”

“And it doesn’t mean he’s not.”

Millie held out a well-shaped bloom for Kate to snip. “Perhaps his plan was to finagle his way into our family.”

“By deliberately knocking Emily down? Yes, that makes perfect sense.” She rolled her eyes, and her curt tone bespoke of the irritation grating on her. “I would certainly be more apt to let him see to my financial affairs because he injured my granddaughter. Listen to yourselves.”

Ethel divided the bush with her hands and came face-to-face with Kate. “But he does have control of your finances now.”

“He is overseeing them
because I asked
.” Kate straightened and thrust her scissors in the basket.

Pinning her sisters in place with her gaze, she studied each of them. All their years together made them easy to read. Ethel, lips pulled in a thin line, had judged Carter, tried him, and found him guilty. Millie, worry creasing her brow, obviously feared Kate had made a grievous error in judgment.

Kate sighed. She couldn’t convince them Carter Stockton was worthy of their trust. Only he could do that.

She squared her shoulders. “As for Carter and Emily, I hope they have a good time.”

“Oh, so do I.” Millie sighed wistfully. “He’s such a sweet boy.”

Ethel sniffed. “But remember, dear sisters, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

By the time Emily had finished her pulled pork sandwich from one of the Midway’s lunch counters, the sun sat low on a bluff. Hues of pink and purple stained the dusky sky. A breeze twisted the silvery leaves of the maples and carried a whiff of popcorn from one of the street vendor’s carts.

“I guess I’d better take you home.” Carter, who sat beside her on a park bench, wadded the waxed paper from his sandwich into a ball and stood up. “After all, I did make a promise, and the last thing I want right now is to get your grandmother angry.”

She dabbed her mouth with her handkerchief. “Right now?”

He held out his hand and kept hold of Emily’s after he pulled her to her feet. “I want to be on her good side since I’d like to see you again. That is, if you want to.”

She dropped her gaze to the cobbled path at her feet. “I’ve truly enjoyed today, but I don’t know. We’re so different.”

“Emily.” Placing a finger beneath her chin, he tipped her face up. “Differences can be good.”

“And sometimes they can drive a wedge between people.”

“I’m willing to take a chance, aren’t you?” His caramel eyes flickered with the dare.

She ducked away, taking a few steps toward the path.

He fell in step beside her. “You’re just contrary by nature.”

“I am not.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Prove it.”

“How am I supposed to do that?”

“Say yes.”

She stopped on the path and turned to him. “To what?”

“Go to a play with me Monday evening.” He paused. “Unless you’re afraid.”

“Me? Of you?” She yanked her gloves on and met his eyes. A cocky grin creased his face. Emily sighed. “Fine. I’ll go.”

“Good.” He chuckled, soft and low.

“What?”

“That was easier than I expected.”

She slapped his arm. “Carter, I was being serious. We’re very different.”

“I happen to think we’re more alike than you realize.” He took hold of her elbow and urged her toward the dock.

“How?”

“That’s what we’re going to start finding out—Monday night.”

No amount of prodding made Carter disclose what he meant as they made their way to the dock. Once seated beneath the canopy of the electric launch, she glanced at him. Sure of himself, he sat with his face to the wind as the boat left the shore. It wasn’t an arrogant confidence, though. Rather, it was a quiet acceptance of who he was, and it made her like him all the more.

Her heart skipped a beat. Was she making a mistake? Her head told her yes. He was everything she was not. Their beliefs, their futures, even their families were so different. But the warmth pooling in her heart told her to take a chance.

When he cocked his head in her direction and grinned, the last of her resolve melted with the dying daylight. She knew her answer. This once, she’d cast her vote with him.

“There must be some kind of mistake.” Carter pushed the ledger across the Grahams’ outdoor breakfast table. The canopy of trees overhead rustled as Mrs. Graham leaned close, and a few maple seeds whirled to the ground. He pointed to the column of figures. “The bank’s quarterly statement isn’t matching the book here at all.”

Mrs. Graham poured a second cup of coffee from a pansy-covered china pot. “I’m sure my books are correct. Perhaps the bank is in error.”

“I certainly hope so. I’ll check into it tomorrow.” Even the breeze, fresh this morning after last night’s rain, did little to chase his concerns away. Carter closed the book and glanced toward the door of the cabin as it squeaked open. Aunt Millie and Aunt Ethel, each dressed in printed cotton morning dresses, stepped off the stoop and hobbled across the damp grass.

He kept his gaze on the door, waiting for Emily to join them. No sign of her. Disappointment hardened his jaw. He stood and pulled out chairs for the two women joining them.

“Emily’s not here. She got up with the chickens this morning.” Aunt Millie beamed like a schoolgirl. “Not that we have chickens. We don’t, of course.”

Aunt Ethel sipped from her cup. “I’m not sure where Emily was off to.”

“Suffrage work,” Mrs. Graham answered and smiled at Carter. “You enjoyed your time together?”

“Yes, ma’am. Is it obvious?”

Aunt Millie patted his arm. “I noticed at the tent services yesterday. You seemed to pay more attention to her than you did to Brother Fossen. Besides, we have a lot of years of experience observing young love.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” Carter’s cheeks burned.

“No, of course not.” Mrs. Graham seemed to be stifling a smile. She dumped a generous spoonful of sugar in her cup and stirred.

“Not yet anyway.” Aunt Millie twittered.

Clearing his throat, Carter leaned forward. “Ma’am, in view of this conversation, I’d like to ask for permission to escort your granddaughter to the play at the Dohany Opera House this evening.”

“So, you would like to court our Emily?” Aunt Ethel’s mouth formed an upside-down
u
as she spread her starched napkin across her lap. “Do you think that’s wise, Kate?”

“I believe my sister is concerned with your intentions.” Mrs. Graham poured cream into her cup.

“I assure you they are honorable, ladies. I’ve met very few women as remarkable as Emily.”

Aunt Millie clapped her hands. “A marvelous declaration, and I volunteer.”

“Volunteer?” Carter blinked.

“To chaperone, of course. If you’re going out after dark and into town, Emily must have a chaperone.”

Aunt Ethel huffed. “I’d hardly call your presence adequate supervision. You’ll get so involved in the play, you’ll forget to protect Emily’s virtue.”

Carter swallowed the bubble of laughter threatening to surface. He was the one who needed protecting—from the two of them.

“I will not,” Aunt Millie protested. “And Carter, wouldn’t you prefer my company over my stuffy sister’s?”

“I’d be honored if all three of you ladies would join us.”

“Nonsense.” Mrs. Graham waved her hand in the air. “Ethel and Millie can both attend with you if they must, but I will be here—enjoying the peace and quiet.”

Exchanging a knowing grin with Mrs. Graham, Carter tapped his pen on the table. It was hard enough to handle Emily’s feistiness, but adding her two aunts to the equation certainly complicated matters. This may not turn out to be the evening of discovery he’d been hoping for.

Maybe it wasn’t worth all the trouble. After all, he should be concentrating on baseball. They had another game coming up in a few days with a tougher team than they’d faced yet.

As if on cue, Emily strolled up the lakeside path toward the cottage with a daisy in one hand and a parasol in the other. Beneath a wide-brimmed hat topped with a fluffy black plume and satin roses, Emily’s long, fawn-colored hair, streaked by the sun, hung loosely down her back. Her black and white striped walking skirt swung with each step, displaying both her ankles and heeled shoes. A wide belt cinched the ruffled white shirt and hugged her narrow waist.

Her steady, carefree stride stuttered when she caught sight of him. She stumbled but caught herself and readjusted her shirtwaist. Then she marched toward him as if the near mishap was entirely his fault.

He grinned and his heart pounded in his chest. Nothing stopped this woman. Nothing.

So she liked daisies. What other secrets did she have?

A most unsettling truth took hold. He wanted to discover them all. And not only was it worth a few minutes of discomfort under the meddlesome aunts’ scrutiny to be with Emily Graham, but he also had a sneaking suspicion she was worth a whole lot more.

He crossed the grassy area to join her.

“Carter.” Her momentary anger seemed to have ebbed, and the corners of her lips curved sweetly. “I’m surprised you’re still here. I thought you’d be at practice by now.”

He tugged his baseball cap off his head and held it in his hands. “I wanted to speak to you about the play tonight. Your aunts have graciously offered to accompany us.”

The blood left her face and her voice came out squeaky. “Both of them?”

He chuckled. “It’ll be fine. I promise.”

“You don’t know them like I do.”

Dipping his head slightly, he peered into her moss-green eyes. “Do you love them?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then I look forward to getting to know both of them better—and you.” He nodded toward the table. “I’ll pick all three of you up at six thirty. And Emily, have a little faith.”

Rolling her stocking over her calf, Emily gently tugged on the wool toe until the undergarment gave way and slipped from her foot. She tossed it on the bank beside the other. She lifted her hand to shield her eyes from the sun and scanned the beach in front of her. Manhattan Beach, as the area had been named after its famous Eastern cousin, was dotted with bathers. A couple of pink-cheeked children caught her eye. Two boys giggled as they buried their sister neck-deep in the sand. Their mother lounged in a deck chair, watching them.

“Over here, Emily!”

She followed the sound and spotted Marguerite and her four-year-old Tate wading along the lake’s edge. Tate, as blond as his mother, grasped a stick in one hand and sat on his haunches in the water. He seemed intent on spearing something.

Emily balled her skirts in her hand, crossed the sand, and dipped her toes into the tepid water. “What are you looking for, Taters?”

He jumped up when he heard the familiar nickname and threw two wet arms around her legs. “Aunt Emily!”

“Tate!” Marguerite laughed and pried him off. “You mustn’t get Aunt Emily all wet.”

“I’m okay. Besides, his hug was worth it.”

“Want to help me catch minnows?” He grinned at her hopefully, revealing two dimples set deep in his chubby cheeks.

“You’re catching them with your stick?”

“No, ma’am. I got a can.”

She laughed and felt one of the silvery fish brush her ankle. “Maybe later. I need to talk to your mama for a minute first.”

“Okay.” Tate swung the stick in the water, sending a spray on both of them.

Marguerite wiped her face. “Tate, be careful!”

“Mama, it’s water. You’re supposed to get wet at the lake. Just like baf time.”

Both women grinned and watched him resume his search with stick and can in hand.

A gust of wind blew a section of hair across Marguerite’s face. She tucked it behind her ear. “I heard you spent Saturday afternoon with Carter Stockton at the Midway.”

“Who told you?”

“So it’s true?”

Emily’s cheeks flushed hot. “I guess I can’t deny it.”

“Let’s sit down on the sand and talk. Like when we were girls.” Marguerite admonished Tate to stay close before she selected a spot in the sand.

Emily sat beside her, arranged her skirt, and dug her toes past the hot top sand, deep into the cool, wet layers. Within minutes, Marguerite managed to prod all of the pertinent details out of her concerning her outing with Carter. She lapsed into a fit of laughter when Emily said she’d nearly killed him by accident at the shooting gallery.

Marguerite wrapped her arms around her knees and sighed. “Oh my, Emily. I did need this good news today.”

“Why? Is something wrong? Is Trip okay?”

“Yes, he’s fine.” She glanced at Tate and wiped a tear from her cheek. “Remember when I told you we’ve been trying for quite a while now to have another baby?”

“Yes.”

“Well, it’s not going to happen again this month.”

“Oh.” Emily drew a stick figure in the sand. “I’m sorry. What does Trip say?”

“You know him. He says, ‘Maggie, I realize this isn’t your usual way of doing things, but you’ve got to let God be God.’”

Emily smiled at her friend. “Does that make you mad?”

“Because he’s right?” Marguerite tucked the strand of blowing hair behind her ear again. “No. It’s still not easy to let go of control, but I’m learning God does a better job putting my life together than I ever did.” She released her knees and leaned back on her elbows. “Now, before I let you sidetrack me completely, I want to know how you feel about Carter and when you’re going to see him next.”

“I don’t know if I feel anything about him. It’s not like I think about him all the time.”

“Is that a fact?” Marguerite pointed to Emily’s stick figure drawing. Around the original drawing, a baseball diamond lay etched in the sand.

“It’s simply a sketch.” Emily blurred the picture with her hand. She met her friend’s grin and matched it with one of her own. “He’s fun to be with, and I have to admit I enjoyed our time. But—”

“But what? He’s handsome, intelligent, and clearly thoughtful. What is there to stop you?”

“We’re so different. He’s hit home runs, and I’ve done mortal damage with a croquet mallet. He has this unnerving calm about him, and I can rant about an injustice at the drop of a hat. And worst of all, he doesn’t believe in a woman’s right to vote.”

Tate trotted across the sand with his can and jabbed the can under Emily’s nose. A set of bulging eyes stared back at her, and a loud croak made her jerk back.

“I named her Croaky ’cause she’s so loud.”

“You think this bullfrog is a girl?” Emily ruffled his hair.

“Yep, and now I’m gonna go find her a husband, ’cause I don’t want her to be lonely. You get lonely, Aunt Emily? I can find you a husband too.”

The image of a bullfrog groom filled her mind, and she chuckled. Did everyone have to make her lack of marital bliss their business?

Marguerite hugged his waist. “Tate, Aunt Emily is fine like she is. You go on now and find Mr. Croaky.”

Emily watched the boy, so much like his father, skip down to the water. “Do you really believe I’m fine like I am—even without a man? You don’t see me as not being complete?”

“You? Heavens no! Look at you, Emily. You’ve got a whole world of work to do, and I can see you working for Carrie Chapman Catt herself in Washington DC, like you’ve always wanted.” She stood up and shook the sand from her skirt. “Now, about Carter and suffrage. You could always convince him. He was at the rally. Even if he doesn’t support the cause, he seems to support you.”

Emily took the hand Marguerite offered and stood up as well. “We’re going to a play tonight—with Aunt Millie and Aunt Ethel.”

“That ought to be fun.” She snickered. “Next time, why don’t you ask Trip and me to go with you as chaperones? The four of us would have fun together.”

“If there is a next time. It’s hard for me to imagine what he sees in me or how we’ll get past our different suffrage views. I could never be with anyone who didn’t understand how important it is for women to have the right to vote. It means too much to me.”

Marguerite draped an arm over her shoulders. “Emily, this is going to be hard for you to hear. But, my friend, you have to let God be God.”

The three-story Dohany Opera House mocked Emily from the corner of Broadway. The theater’s fine arched windows and Italianate, brocaded cornice only reminded her of how inadequate she felt in this world—a world where fine ladies like Olivia DeSoto reigned.

It wasn’t a matter of wealth. Emily had that. Her orchid silk gown, with its exquisite gold piping curling in loops on the front, was as fine as any woman’s could be. It wasn’t a matter of upbringing. Her mother had patiently instructed her in all of the social arts, and she’d been to this very theater dozens of times. Even now, if she closed her eyes, she could picture the parquet floors, the sparkling gas jet chandeliers, and the heavy velvet curtains.