Love Finds You in Mackinac Island, Michigan (34 page)

But as he spoke, life returned to her father’s face and to his voice.

“He said what?” Mama exclaimed.

Elena blinked. She’d missed something.

“He is looking for a place to manufacture several items in Chicago, and he remembered that I have a factory.”

“Who remembered?” Elena asked.

He glanced at her. “Chase Darrington.”

“But what—what is he planning to produce?”

“Something for a fishing rod.” He winked at her. “And something I’m not at liberty to speak about while the patent is pending.”

He was going to use Papa’s factory to make his telescope?

“How could you consider working for him, after what he did to us?” Mama persisted. “After what his brother-in-law did to Elena?”

Papa sighed. “Mr. Darrington isn’t responsible for his brother-in-law’s behavior, and I don’t believe Mr. Darrington meant to hurt Elena. I don’t have much of a choice. Not if we want to keep our home in Chicago.”

“What of this place?” Mama asked.

He shook his head. “We’ll still have to sell it at summer’s end. The factory work will keep us afloat for now, but it won’t pay all our obligations.”

Elena tilted a spoon and watched the light from the chandelier reflect in the silver. Then she looked up. “I think you should do it, Papa.”

Mama looked at her with surprise. “Are you certain?”

Elena nodded.

“Mr. Darrington won’t be there,” Papa said. “He’ll leave the work for me while he returns to Detroit.”

“See, Mama.” Elena attempted a smile. “We’ll probably never see him or his family again.”

Papa pushed his plate away. “I’ll have to leave with him in the morning.”

Silence filled the room. Papa was the steady calm to Mama’s chaos. Even though Mama never seemed to acknowledge it, she didn’t operate well when he was gone.

“Perhaps we should all go with you,” Mama finally said. “It will only take a few days to pack up our house.”

“We don’t have days. Mr. Darrington wants to start production right away.” His voice slowed. “Besides, you and Elena should stay here and enjoy the last weeks of the summer.”

Their last summer on Mackinac.

The first officer from the
Manitou
stood on the stern of the boat, his arm raised. As the second hand ticked toward the hour of nine, he dropped his arm and the gangplank was drawn aboard for the ship’s departure.

With tears in her eyes, Elena waved good-bye to Papa from the pier as the steamer left the port. She hadn’t seen Chase in the crowd, and she was glad of it. With God’s help, she was trying to forgive him as Mrs. Darrington suggested, but she knew that one day she would need to ask him to forgive her as well. She’d never tried to deceive him, at least not in the way he believed. Perhaps they had both been wrong. She never should have hidden her identity from him.

She heard a dog bark in the crowd behind her, and she turned to see Galileo pushing toward her. She crouched beside him, laughing as he licked her face. Her chest lurched for a moment; she was afraid to look up and see his owner. When she did, Mrs. Darrington was in front of her, smiling down.

Elena stood up, trying to hide her disappointment. “Good morning, Mrs. Darrington.”

“You must start calling me Lydia.” She grasped Elena’s elbow gently, leading her away from the boat. “Is your mother here?”

Elena shook her head. “She hates to say good-bye in public.”

Galileo barked, and she rubbed his head again.

“Chase says that this dog is an excellent judge of character.”

“I must have him fooled.” She petted him again. “Where is Sarah?”

Lydia nodded at the water. “She’s at the hotel, preparing to leave for Detroit next week.”

“I’m sorry she has to go.”

They reached the end of the pier and stepped onto the sidewalk. “Elena—do you happen to know how to play lawn tennis?”

Elena glanced at her, wondering at the odd question. “I do not.”

“Neither do I.” Lydia’s laugh was as light as the breeze. “But they’ve built two courts up at the Grand, and I have to admit, I’m a bit intrigued by the sport. I’ve been in the audience, watching men and women play, for the past two days.”

Elena thought back to her house, looming large up on the bluff. There was nothing for her to do there. “Would you like to learn how to play?” she asked.

“Oh, I do, but I need a partner.” Lydia slowed, turning to her. “You wouldn’t want to learn as well, would you?”

“I suppose I could try.”

“Oh, splendid.” She clapped her gloved hands together. “Now we need to find two more ladies.”

“For what?”

She laughed again. “To play against.”

Elena thought of Mrs. Grunier and Trudy, but she couldn’t imagine either woman playing a sport.

Mrs. Frederick wouldn’t have a partner with Gracie off with—

Lydia interrupted her thoughts. “I believe I might be able to convince Sarah to play, at least for a game or two.”

Elena smiled back at her. “I have an idea.”

“I thought you might.”

“I need to go home first.”

Lydia scooted her forward. “Take your time.”

Elena found her mother in the drawing room, stitching another needlepoint for the wall. As her mother worked, she proposed her plan. Mama eyed her like she’d lost her mind. “I can’t play tennis.”

“It’s simple, Mama.” She leaned back, trying to demonstrate with her arm. “All you do is hit a ball, back and forth, over a net.”

Mama shook her head. “I can’t even hit a croquet ball on the lawn with a wide hammer.”

“We’ll all take lessons. The instructor will show us exactly what to do.”

Mama set her needlepoint on her lap. “Who else is going to play this game?”

“Mrs. Darrington asked me to be her partner, so you and her daughter will be partners.”

“The ladies will think it’s ridiculous.”

Elena smiled. “Who cares what they think?”

* * * * *

“Not only are you miserable,” Richard said as he plopped down on the chair in front of Chase’s desk, “but you’re miserable to be with.”

Chase didn’t look up from the papers in front of him. “A good morning to you too.”

“Since you won’t bother to tell me what happened out on that island, I can only assume that you met a girl and that this same girl did something to wreck your heart. And I can also assume—and I’m only guessing here—that she might be known by the name of Andy.”

“She didn’t wreck my heart.”

Richard leaned forward. “Then what happened to you?”

“I don’t know what happened, not exactly.” Chase glanced up at his assistant. “I met a young woman and enjoyed her company for a while, as I have other ladies. And just like the others, I found out that she was someone different than I had thought.”

“You don’t think you’re an inventor, Chase, but you are.”

“I am not—”

“And an artist at that.”

Chase shook his head. “What are you talking about?”

Richard leaned back against the chair, crossing his arms. “I’d venture to guess that you’ve created a masterpiece in your mind, your own invention of who you wanted this girl to be.”

Chase dipped the end of his quill in the ink and drew a line on the bottom of the paper. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“And then when your invention didn’t work out, you bailed.”

“She’s not an invention,” he insisted.

“There is no perfect woman out there.”

“I don’t want perfect.” His blood—it felt like it was boiling. “I want trustworthy.”

Richard laughed. “Perhaps you should get a horse.”

Chase pushed away the papers, preparing to stand. “This is going nowhere—”

“Of course you have to trust her, Chase. And you have to love her too.”

The door opened, and Arthur Bissette stepped inside, his cane tapping on the floor. He hesitated, glancing between the two men. “I don’t want to interrupt.”

Richard waved him over. “Perhaps you should join us. We’re talking about Chase’s miserable luck with women.”

“Arthur doesn’t want to hear about that.”

Instead of responding, Arthur nodded toward Chase. “May I speak with you in private?”

Richard stood up, setting his hat on his head. “Don’t worry about me. I’m needed at the bank.”

After Richard walked out the door, Arthur sat across from Chase, resting his cane across his legs. Chase hadn’t asked the man to work with him because of Elena. He’d hired him because of his solid reputation for quality work and secrecy when necessary.

And because they needed a factory in Chicago.

“You’ve done so much for me already,” Arthur said, twisting his hat in his hands.

“Actually, I believe you’re the one who’s done quite a bit for me.”

Arthur glanced at the papers on the desk and then looked back at him. “I have one more favor to ask of you.”

Chase crossed his hands on the desk. “What is it?”

“The bank is asking for another signature to continue my loan for our house. Someone who has the income to pay for it if necessary.”

“You’re asking me to sign for your loan?”

“I’m going to sell the house on Mackinac, but I’m not ready to—if I default, you can sell the house in Chicago.”

Chase considered the man’s words. He didn’t like getting involved with personal affairs such as this, and his father probably wouldn’t approve, but he couldn’t in good conscience allow this man to lose his home. He hated dabbling in real estate, but if Arthur defaulted, he could find someone to sell the house and regain his money. “I’ll sign for you,” he finally said.

“Thank you,” Arthur breathed. “I’ll do everything within my power to pay this loan…or pay you back.”

Chase nodded. He might not be able to trust Elena, but he’d begun to trust her father.

* * * * *

The four society ladies giggled like girls as they whisked their rackets through the air. Every time they missed the ball they laughed, again and again. Elena had no skill for the game—none of them did—but she was having more fun than she’d had in a very long time.

The instructor was a patient man named Leonard, a native of Great Britain. He told the ladies that his colleagues had warned him about the women he’d find in the United States—that they would be far more prone to silliness than their counterparts on the other side of the Atlantic. The Darrington and Bissette ladies had proved his colleagues right, but none of them cared.

His newest students had played for three days straight now, and they rarely hit the ball over the net. When they did make it over, by sheer luck, it usually continued over the heads of their opponents, landing among the umbrellas of their spectators. But every time they hit the ball, no matter where it landed, they cheered for each other. The small audience that gathered around the courts each time they played cheered for them as well.

Elena’s mother swung her racket once again, sending the ball over Elena’s head and into the bushes in a most ungraceful manner. Her mother propped the racket over her shoulder, waving at the small audience like she was the victor.

Leonard sighed as one of the Grand’s youngest employees ran to retrieve the ball. “Mrs. Bissette, you are supposed to hit the ball inside the white lines.”

She turned to him, waving her racket toward the crowd. “Whatever for?”

“So your opponent has the opportunity to return it to you in a timely manner.”

She pointed her racket at Elena. “That’s not my opponent. That’s my daughter.”

“But in this game,” Leonard attempted to explain patiently, “she is your opponent.”

“It’s a silly rule.”

The ladies laughed, and poor Leonard laughed along with them.

“Let’s break for lunch,” Lydia announced.

Leonard concurred. “That is a fabulous idea.”

“But we’ll return, after we’ve eaten.”

He gave a slight bow. “And I shall be waiting for you.”

If given the choice, he probably would have taken the next train from Mackinaw to New York City and then a boat on to England, but Elena admired him greatly for his endurance.

The women ate chicken salad and fresh fruit on the porch as the orchestra played behind them. For dessert, cherry sorbet was served in chilled silver bowls and garnished with cinnamon sticks.

The first day they played tennis, Sarah didn’t speak to Elena, but by the second day, her coldness began to thaw. Sarah often came with red eyes to their game, but instead of crying on the court, the women laughed together. And in their laughter they began to heal. They never spoke of Edward, but perhaps Sarah began to feel a common bond with Elena. Edward had hurt them both, in very different ways.

Somehow Lydia seemed to have known this, bringing the women together to play a game like tennis. All their men were gone, the senior Mr. Darrington having traveled to Detroit on business. Even if none of them spoke the words, they needed each other’s company.

Elena’s loneliness had been swept away in the company of the women. She never would have guessed that her mother would socialize with Sarah Powell, or Lydia for that matter, but Mama respected both women on and off the clay court.

Sarah was finally leaving in the morning to return to Detroit, and Elena would miss her. She’d thought Lydia would return home with her daughter, but she had decided to stay another week—to enjoy the remnants of her summer vacation, she said.