Love Finds You in Mackinac Island, Michigan (6 page)

Elena eyed her mother as the women continued whispering as if that would keep the secret locked away. Mama pretended to be horrified for poor Hilga and her family, but Elena was very aware of what she thought, both then and now. She wasn’t particularly concerned for Hilga’s well-being—only that there was one less debutante to compete for the more distinguished island men.

“Will Hilga be returning to Mackinac this summer?” Elena asked.

“Most certainly not.” Mrs. Grunier looked at Trudy as if her daughter might be tarnished by someone like Hilga vacationing on the island. “I heard they would be summering in Saugatuck.”

“Dear me,” Mama repeated, apparently afraid for the young people in Saugatuck.

“Did you hear that they are closing Fort Mackinac?” Mrs. Frederick asked.

Mrs. Grunier nodded. “My husband told me a few weeks ago.”

Elena watched Mama’s smile dim.

“Having those soldiers leave—” Mrs. Grunier glanced at Trudy again. “It will help to keep our daughters safe.”

“I thought the fort was built to keep us safe,” Elena ventured.

Mama hushed her with a glance.

Elena reached for a flower-shaped cookie decorated with pink-and-yellow flourishes. She knew she wasn’t supposed to contradict the ladies during these luncheons, but sometimes she couldn’t help herself. Trudy nibbled a cookie next to her, and Elena wondered if she was bored as well. There was so much on the island to see, and yet here they sat at a tea party instead, talking about the mistakes of everyone else like they were above any sort of indiscretion.

“Why are they closing down the fort?” Mama asked. Apparently her curiosity for information overcame her embarrassment regarding her lack of knowledge.

“We haven’t needed the fort since that war with the British, back in 18-something,” Mrs. Frederick replied.

“Eighteen twelve,” Elena murmured.

“If they close the fort, then all the soldiers will leave,” her mother replied.

“Not if, Deborah,” Mrs. Frederick said, “when. All the soldiers should be gone by summer’s end, maybe even before.”

Mama’s hand went to her chest again. “Oh dear.”

There were never enough men for all the unmarried women who swarmed the island each summer. The unmarried officers and seventy or so enlisted men offered a distraction for the women who weren’t courting a bachelor from Chicago or Detroit. The officers were invited to the dinner parties and dances. The enlisted men secretly entertained young women like Hilga in other places around the island.

Even as Mama reached for her teacup again, Elena watched her lips move quietly. Heat climbed up Elena’s cheeks at the thought of what her mother was doing. Counting, without a doubt, the number of bachelors vacationing on the island this summer.

“Where is Gracie this afternoon?” Mrs. Grunier inquired of the woman next to her.

“She’s resting,” Mrs. Frederick replied, dabbing her thick lips with a cloth napkin. “We’re expecting company tonight.”

“Oh—” Elena watched her mother take a controlled sip of her tea before she spoke again. “What sort of company?”

“Mr. Darrington and his sister are dining with us.”

Mama lowered her teacup. “I didn’t realize he had arrived yet.”

Mrs. Frederick nodded. “He is supposed to be on his way today.”

Mrs. Grunier leaned toward the table again. “I thought Mr. Darrington might not be coming after all.”

“Oh, he’s definitely coming.”

Elena groaned inwardly. She’d been hoping he would change his mind.

Trudy scooted closer to the table. “What type of work does this Mr. Darrington do?”

“He works for his father’s investment firm,” Mrs. Frederick replied with much authority. “He’s a financier…and an inventor.”

“I heard he invented a book of paper matches,” Mrs. Grunier said.

“How fascinating,” Mama replied. Elena closed her eyes so they wouldn’t roll at her mother’s sudden interest in matches.

Mrs. Frederick’s pinky finger dangled in the air as she lifted her cup in a salute of sorts. “I hear he is a very fascinating man.”

“He certainly is an elusive one,” Mrs. Grunier replied. “My cousin has invited him to their home in Detroit on three separate occasions to meet her daughter. Each time, he declined due to his business affairs.”

Mrs. Frederick’s eyes sparkled. “I will tell you all about him.”

“I do hope you intend to share the man’s company, Elizabeth.” Mrs. Grunier sipped her tea. “There are plenty of young people on the island who would benefit from getting to know an innovator like him.”

Elena fidgeted in her chair as she fought a yawn. This kind of endless discourse exhilarated her mother, but it exhausted her. And it had only just begun. They would sit on this portico, shaded from the sun, siphoning every morsel of news from their acquaintances, and then they would move on to the next tea party or luncheon tomorrow to spread it.

Thankfully, no one had mentioned her incident on the pier yesterday. Perhaps none of the summer residents had seen the fall.

Several houses down from the Gruniers’ house sat Castle Pines. Behind their house, at the top of the hill, grew a huge hydrangea bush. If Claude had kept his word, a bicycle awaited her behind it. Tonight she wouldn’t let anyone stop her from leaving the house.

“There is no reason for me to entertain Mr. Darrington and his sister exclusively,” Mrs. Frederick replied. “I’m just accommodating his request to meet Gracie.”

Mrs. Grunier folded her hands. “Surely he will come to the dance on Thursday night.”

“I’m certain he will,” Mrs. Frederick said. Even though she didn’t say it, Elena knew she was hoping that he would attend with Gracie on his arm.

* * * * *

The moment the Bissette family sat down at the dinner table, Mama exclaimed, “Why didn’t you tell me they were closing down the fort?”

Papa picked up his fork. “I hope you had a pleasant day as well, Deborah.”

Elena toyed with the goblet of mixed fruit before her. Mama prided herself on knowing everything that happened on the island along with every notable fact about the wealthy people who visited it. Papa prided himself on withholding the juicier tidbits from her.

Papa took a bite of fruit. “I didn’t think you wanted to know about the island
riffraff
.”

Mama made an unladylike sound in response, and Elena glanced toward the kitchen door. Claude was waiting for them to finish the course so he could serve whatever Nell made next. He was doing a good job of at least pretending to ignore the conversation. They all had to be actors in some way, Elena supposed, no matter which rung they’d secured on society’s ladder.

“It’s your responsibility to keep me apprised of the news on the island.” She glanced over at Elena. “We don’t want to be made out as fools.”

A cough escaped Papa’s lips. He held his napkin over his mouth and pounded on his chest.

“Stop grinning,” her mother demanded. Elena swallowed her smile, but she was still smiling on the inside.

“Even Martha Grunier knew about the fort’s closing.”

When he stopped coughing, Papa took a sip of wine. “The Gruniers have been here for a good week now. She should know about the fort.”

Mama lowered her voice. “You both may think me a fool, but I am the only one in this family who is trying to secure our future. In order to do that, I need to know what is happening on the island.”

“But you do know what is happening,” he replied.

She pointed at Elena’s goblet. “Eat your fruit, dear.”

Elena picked up the chilled fork and pushed the sugary peach slice around before she pierced it, but she didn’t take a bite.

“Did the Darrington family arrive yet?” Mama asked.

He took another sip. “I believe so.”

“And Mr. Darrington?”

Papa’s eyes twinkled. “I saw him arrive at the Grand this morning.”

Elena squirmed in her chair. She’d been hoping the man would still change his mind and stay in Detroit for the summer.

Mama’s fork clanged on her goblet. “You need to tell us these things, Arthur.”

“I believe I just told you.”

“But if I hadn’t asked—” She sighed. “You wouldn’t have mentioned it.”

He ate another piece of fruit.

Mama’s gaze was still upon him, as if she was trying to untangle something he had said. “Why were you at the Grand?”

“I had a lunch meeting with Oliver Randolph.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Oliver already burned the bridge between you and him.”

“Bridges can be mended.”

“Perhaps,” Mama replied. “But not all bridges
should
be mended.”

He nodded toward Elena. “Oliver’s son asked if he could escort our beautiful daughter to the dance on Thursday night.”

Her mother’s hands balled on the table. “Most certainly not.”

“I hope you don’t mind, Elena,” he said. “I told Parker you could go.”

“Oh, Papa,” she groaned.

His face suddenly looked older than his forty-eight years. “I will send your regrets, if you’d like.”

Claude removed Elena’s goblet to make room for the main course. Could Elena spend a whole evening in Parker’s company after all his parents had done to disparage her family? Papa’s earnest eyes were on her as he waited for her answer. And Mama awaited her answer as well, wanting her to decline spending the evening with a family she’d grown to despise. Elena hated being in the middle, caught like a snared rabbit between the two people she loved.

She turned her head toward her mother. “Perhaps I should go with Parker.”

“Most certainly not!”

Elena continued. “That way Mr. Darrington won’t think I’m attending the dance solely to meet him, like so many of the other girls.”

Mama considered her words. “But you don’t want to appear intent on marrying Parker.”

“Nor do I want to appear intent on marrying this Mr. Darrington.”

Mama thought for a moment. Elena knew that as long as her mother thought she had developed the plan herself, she would implement it with vigor. “I suppose there is wisdom in accompanying another suitor for the evening. So you don’t frighten Mr. Darrington if he’s not yet ready for matrimony.”

Papa nodded his head. “A most wise choice.”

Elena ate a few bites of her chicken cordon bleu. She would need the strength for later tonight, when her parents finally went to bed.

Claude assured her that the bicycle was still waiting for her outside, hidden at the top of the stone terrace.

Nothing would stop her tonight.

The Darrington family suite overlooked the sun-glazed waters of Lake Michigan. The Grand Hotel wasn’t nearly as long as the exaggerated picture displayed in the advertisements, but it was still quite large. Fifty or so columns stretched across the veranda, and inside was an ornately decorated lobby and dining room and a ballroom that Sarah said hosted the season’s most important events on the island.

When Chase arrived at the hotel with Sarah and her maid, a board on the lobby’s wall listed the activities for the afternoon and evening. A concert on the porch. Lawn tennis lessons. A dog race. He’d laughed. Who had time to watch dogs race?

The island seemed to be as charming as his sister had promised, but if he were forced to attend the list of leisure activities, it would be the death of him.

Once in his room, Chase carefully placed his satchel on the burgundy bedspread. The bed itself looked like a giant sleigh with its curved headboard and footboard.

He flung his jacket beside the satchel. For the remainder of the day, he sat at the desk, writing letters and reading through the stacks of papers Richard had sent with him.

Someone knocked on the door, and when he opened it, Sarah’s dark green skirt brushed across the floor as she hurried inside. Ringlets of auburn hair were piled on her head like sugar ornaments on a Christmas tree, and they bounced as she glanced around the room and then focused back on him. “Why aren’t you dressed yet?”

He looked down at his trousers and the suspenders over his white shirt. “I believe I am dressed.”

“For dinner,” she groaned. “At the Fredericks’ home.”

“Ah, the residence of the homely Miss Gracie.”

“She’s comely, Chester, not homely.” She put her hands on her hips. “I told you we were going tonight.”

He glanced at the clock hanging beside the wide window. “You said we were leaving at five.”

“It’s a quarter till.”

He waved his hand. “There’s plenty of time to dress.”

She glanced at his attire. “I’m taking those clothes to the steward to burn when you change.”

He looked down again at his trousers and shirt. They looked perfectly fine to him. “What’s wrong with these?”

“Your trousers are practically threadbare, and your shirt—” She pointed at a spot on it. “What is that, an ink stain?”

“Probably.”

Her eyes grew wider. “And it’s missing a button.”

“You can sew on a button, can’t you?”

She folded her arms over her chest. “I’m not sewing on a button!”

“These clothes are perfectly comfortable and entirely wearable.”

“For a pauper,” she mumbled.

“Perhaps I will wear them to dinner.”

“Hurry, Chester.” She eyed the worn satchel on the bed. “And don’t bring that ugly bag with you.”