To Love and Cherish (28 page)

Evan sighed as he caught sight of Victoria arriving from afar. He'd done his best to keep the young woman at a distance, but Mr. Morley was intent upon pleasing Mr. Polter. And pleasing Mr. Polter meant keeping Victoria happy, even at the expense of his relationship with Melinda. There seemed no way to maintain any balance in his life, but one thing was certain: This year he would be pleased to see the end of the season arrive. And at the very least, he would have some extra money saved for the future, and with Victoria and the other guests gone, he'd have time to focus all of his attention on Melinda.

“Evan! Over here!” Victoria waved her handkerchief overhead. Several of the workmen turned to look at the young woman and then at Evan.

He wasn't surprised to hear their murmured complaints—and he didn't blame them. They wanted time to enjoy their afternoon, but they had to continue working. “I'll be back as soon as I can,” he told one of the men before striding off to meet Victoria.

She rushed toward him and clutched his arm. “I'm so glad you agreed to take me riding. I knew you'd change your mind once you had time to give it a little more thought.”

“I can be gone for only an hour.” Over and over he'd emphasized the amount of work he needed to complete, but she ignored his comments.

She clung to his arm like a small child. “You know how I told you that I see Preston Powers and Melinda together all the time?”

The hairs on the back of Evan's neck prickled, and his muscles tensed. On several occasions Victoria had mentioned that she'd seen Melinda and Preston keeping company. Initially he'd been jealous and even a little angry, but he knew Melinda was required to spend time with the guests. After all, he had to do the same thing. Still, hearing they were together so soon after Melinda had placed their future in a state of uncertainty gave him pause.

In the past he'd done his best to tamp down his jealous feelings, but when he'd seen Preston with Melinda out on the lawn last week, he'd spoken to Emma. She'd confirmed what Victoria had told him. Mr. Powers appeared to be quite smitten with Melinda. However, Emma had quickly come to Melinda's defense and assured him he need not worry. Now he couldn't help but wonder if Emma had been wrong. Perhaps it wasn't Victoria's attentions toward him, but an attraction to Preston Powers that had caused Melinda's change of heart.

Victoria poked his arm. “Are you listening to me? I just said that Melinda and Preston Powers were having lunch together in the hotel dining room. Isn't that a bit uncommon for a guest and employee to dine together—in the formal dining room, no less?” With a syrup-sweet smile on her lips, she waited for his reply.

But Evan had none.

March 1899

During the following week, Evan did his best to find time to speak privately with Melinda, but to no avail. He had hoped to settle their differences before Preston gained any further advantage. On Thursday he'd gone to the clubhouse while the workmen ate their lunch, but Melinda hadn't been in her office. He'd looked around the grounds but hadn't met with any success. That evening at supper Emma told him Melinda had gone into Biscayne.

“I thought Mr. Zimmerman had taken responsibility for the trips to Biscayne,” Evan said as he helped himself to a couple of warm biscuits.

“That he had, but Mr. Zimmerman is changing plans for the ball, and Melinda needed to check on her orders and see if they'd be arrivin' on time.” Emma spooned fried potatoes into a bowl and placed it on the table. “Did the two of you have some sort of spat?”

Evan jerked around to look at her. “Why do you say that?”

The older woman shrugged. She pushed the bowl of potatoes toward him. “Mr. Powers went with her to Biscayne, and she seemed pleased to have the company.” The older woman nudged his arm. “Melinda's lonely, and Mr. Powers has lots of time. Am I makin' myself clear?”

All thoughts of supper disappeared and so did Evan's appetite. He pushed the food around his plate and attempted to force aside thoughts of Melinda and Preston. How could he compete with a man like Preston Powers when he couldn't even manage an afternoon away from work? Emma's words troubled him like a festering splinter.

“I'm sorry Emma, but I'm just not hungry.” Evan shoved his chair away from the table and stood.

The older woman chuckled. “Love will do that to a fella.”

Evan didn't acknowledge the remark. Love might do it, but so did anger and frustration. One way or the other, he was going to get off work and talk to Melinda.

In spite of his best efforts, it was Sunday before Evan managed time to be alone with Melinda. As they departed the Sunday morning service, she turned to leave, and Evan reached for her arm. “Where are you going?”

“Back to the clubhouse to go over my schedule. There's a tea this afternoon, and I need to make certain everything is in order.” She arched her brows. “Why do you ask?”

“I have a few hours and thought we could spend them together. We need to talk.”

She hesitated. “You could walk me over to the clubhouse, and after I go over the arrangements, I could go for a short stroll along the river.” She hesitated for a moment. “But this doesn't mean that I've changed my thoughts about evaluating our future.”

He did his best to smile. “We can't very well determine our future if we don't spend time together.”

She tipped her head to one side. “That's what I've been saying for months, but you haven't seemed to hear me.”

He reached for her hand. “Now that we have a little time, let's not argue.” He glanced over his shoulder and then leaned a bit closer as they continued to walk. “Did you hear about our visitor?”

She looked up at him. “You know who it is?”

“It was in the newspaper on Friday. Mr. Morley said the president's office released his schedule to the newspapers, and Bridal Veil is listed as one of his stops. That's why the golf course must be completed.” Evan shook his head. “If I hadn't heard it from Mr. Morley, I never would have believed it was true. Did you know?”

She gave a slight nod. “Yes, but I wasn't permitted to say anything. Do you think you'll have the golf course ready by the time they arrive?”

“We'll do our best to get nine holes completed, but I'm still not sure it's going to be possible.” He fixed his gaze on the walkway. “I don't know what will happen if I fail. The promotion . . .” The words caught in his throat, and he couldn't continue.

“They know how hard you've worked on the golf course, Evan. I don't think they'll withhold your promotion. If they do, then I think God must have something else in store for you.”

“I pray that you'll be included in those plans.” He stopped and turned to her. “I understand Preston Powers has been enjoying your company while I've been working. You've had lunch and he even escorted you to Biscayne.”

She met his gaze. “And I understand that you continue to enjoy Victoria Polter's company during both your working hours and free time.”

“That's not the same.”

“I believe it is exactly the same.” Melinda folded her arms across her waist and jutted her chin. “As I told you the other day, I think we need to take time and evaluate our future. Clearly we see things differently.”

The days flew by far too quickly to suit Melinda. The president would be arriving in exactly one week, and the costume ball would take place the following evening. That thought alone caused Melinda to review her checklists for the third time since entering her office this morning.

“Melinda, Melinda!” Emma clutched a bundle of mail against her chest and panted for air. “I need to talk to you.” She leaned against the doorframe leading into Melinda's office. “Can I close the door?” Without waiting for a reply, she stepped inside and gave the door a hefty push. The ring of keys attached to her waist jangled against her well-padded hip as she fell into the chair opposite Melinda's desk.

Melinda stared at the head housekeeper. “Whatever is wrong, Emma?” Ever since news of the president's visit had been released two weeks ago, Emma had been fluttering about like an excited schoolgirl. Today, however, she was as white as a ghost, and her pale blue eyes shone with fear.

“You're not gonna believe what I've been hearin' upstairs.” A strand of hair fell across her forehead, and she brushed it away. “I was delivering the mail like usual, and when I went in room 220, I heard men arguing next door.” She inhaled a deep breath. “You know I'm not one for listenin' in on the guests, but when I heard them talkin' about the president and his visit, my ears perked up.” She leaned forward. “It sounds like there's a plan to kill the president.”

“What?” Melinda scooted to the edge of her chair, certain she must have misunderstood. “Tell me exactly what you heard, Emma.”

“I didn't hear all of it. They said something like the easiest way would be a huntin' accident or poison. And then one of them said that having the president on the island was a perfect opportunity.” Her eyes widened. “You believe me, don't ya? I'm not making this up.”

Melinda didn't know what she believed, but she didn't want to discourage Emma. Was it possible someone was planning to assassinate the president? “Tell me what else they said.”

Emma's brow furrowed. “Somethin' about the president being imperial and tryin' to take over the world, but that didn't make much sense to me.”

“Imperialist? Is that what they said—that the president is an Imperialist?”

She shrugged. “Might be. I was so scared, I was shakin' in me shoes. And they said there's some of us that's willin' to help.”

“Employees of Bridal Veil?” Melinda's thoughts raced as she asked the question. The employees had been excited to learn of the president's visit. Why would any of them want the president dead? She'd never heard political talk of any sort among the staff members.

Emma bobbed her head. “I didn't hear no names, but they got some sort of plan. I'm sure of it. They said something about some foreign places I never heard of and how President McKinley wants to take over the world.” She frowned. “What do you think we should do?”

Perspiration dampened Melinda's palms. “I want you to keep this to yourself, Emma. We don't know who can be trusted, so don't mention one word of this to another soul. Is that clear?”

“But what—”

Melinda tapped the desk with her index finger. “Don't say anything. I promise that I'll take care of this. In the meantime, go and deliver the rest of the mail. And keep your eyes and ears open. If you see or hear anything else, let me know.”

Emma stared at the packet of mail. “You want me to go back up there?”

“If the mail isn't delivered at the usual time, guests will wonder and ask questions. Just act normal.” Melinda pushed up from her chair. “Come on, I'll walk to the foot of the stairs with you.”

“I'll be doing me best to act normal, but I don't know that I'm much good at hidin' me fears.”

“You'll do just fine.” Melinda gave her a reassuring smile. Men's voices drifted from the second floor, followed by the dull thud of closing doors. Moments later, Preston Powers strode down the stairs and out the front door. Melinda watched him depart. Was he one of the men involved in those talks? She shivered at the thought. How silly! Preston was a gambler and man-about-town, not a devotee of politics.

Once Emma made her way to the second floor, Melinda returned to her office. As she was placing a sign on the door, she caught sight of another man near the stairway. Was that Mr. Mifflin? She strained sideways but could capture only a glimpse. It looked like him, but he would have no reason to be upstairs. A fleeting thought of the clandestine meeting crossed her mind, but she shook her head. Mr. and Mrs. Mifflin were dear friends of the McKinleys. She must have been mistaken.

Melinda's heart pounded as she weighed what could be done. She needed help, but who could she trust? Certainly not Preston Powers, and though she disliked the thought, she couldn't completely trust her own brother with such frightening information. Her thoughts whirled. Evan! He was the only one she could trust to keep her confidence and lend the help she would need.

She hurried out the side entrance, praying she could find Evan and explain. Once outside, Melinda spotted Paul standing alongside a brougham. Raising her arm, she waved her handkerchief overhead and ran toward him.

If any of the guests saw her, they'd surely think she'd gone mad. “Is Evan at the golf course?” She gasped for air and clasped a hand to her chest.

“Last I knew. Is something wrong, Miss Melinda?” The young man drew closer.

Melinda motioned toward the carriage. “Could you take me there, or have you come to pick up one of the guests?”

“I just delivered a group over here to the clubhouse and was fixing to return to the barn, but I can take you to the golf course.” He smiled and opened the carriage door. “Evan sure is proud that he got nine holes of the course ready in time.” Paul extended his hand to help her into the carriage. “Just wait till you see how good it looks. Mr. Morley was mighty happy when he saw it, too. Sounds like he's hoping to impress the president.”

Melinda was pleased to hear Mr. Morley had been impressed. Perhaps now he'd push the directors to give Evan his promotion. The buggy rolled past clumps of purple hyacinths and occasional groupings of bright yellow daffodils peeking through the tall grasses. The flowers exhibited their beauty and resilience now that the snow had disappeared and warmer temperatures had taken hold. If the landscape wasn't in peak condition by the time the president arrived, it wouldn't be from lack of effort. The employees had all been working long hours preparing for the visit.

Melinda rested her head against the black leather seat and closed her eyes. Silently she prayed that nothing would happen to the president during his visit to the island.

When they arrived at the golf course a short time later, Paul brought the carriage to a halt and called to Evan. “Got someone in the carriage who wants to speak to you!”

Paul jumped down and opened the door. “Maybe once he sees who I've brought, he'll get over here.” The young man cupped his hands around his mouth. “Look who's here, Evan!” He pointed toward Melinda and grinned. “If you don't need me anymore, I'll get the carriage back to the barn. I reckon Garrison's wondering where I am.”

“You go ahead, Paul. Thank you very much,” Melinda said.

She didn't miss the look of disbelief in Evan's eyes as he trotted toward her. She knew her arrival at the golf course would take him by surprise. “It looks wonderful, Evan.”

He turned his gaze to the rolling green sod that had been shipped to the island and laid a week ago. “Thank you.” His eyes sparkled with pleasure.

She gestured at the expanse. “I'm amazed at all you've accomplished. You have every right to be very proud.”

“I can't take all the credit. The men worked long hours to get everything ready.” He grinned like a young boy showing off a prized possession before he turned more serious. “I didn't expect to see you out here. Is there a problem?”

She gave a slight nod. “I know I've told you we need to evaluate our relationship, but there is something amiss at the clubhouse, and you're the only one I believe I can trust to help me.”

The hint of a smile tugged the corners of his mouth. “It pleases me to know that I've maintained your trust, even if you're still holding onto your heart.”

Pushing aside all restraint, she reached for his hand. “Walk with me and I'll tell you what I've heard.” While they strolled along the perimeter of the golf course, Melinda recounted Emma's tale and even included the fact that she'd seen Preston coming downstairs afterward. “I doubt he's any part of this, but it sounds like there are men who consider the president an imperialist and plan to assassinate him because of his policies.”

She squeezed his hand. “What are we going to do, Evan? I'm afraid to speak to any of the other employees or managers. I can't begin to imagine who might be involved.” Her eyes opened wide and she gasped. “What if they decide to try and kill the president during a hunt? You could be hurt.” The thought caused her heart to constrict.

He stopped and turned to face her. “First of all, we shouldn't jump to conclusions. These stories circulate occasionally when the president is traveling. The newspapers report stories about possible attempts from time to time, but they've come to nothing. And the president generally has security guards who travel with him. I don't want you to worry.”

“I think this is more than idle talk. I'm worried, Evan. What if we do nothing and the president is killed? I couldn't live with myself. And I doubt Mrs. McKinley would ever recover from such a shock.”

Evan nodded. “You're right. Let me see what I can find out. In the meantime, if you or Emma should hear anything else, send word.” Using his finger, he tipped Melinda's chin and looked into her eyes. “And promise me you'll stay away from Preston.”

Thanks to Preston Powers, Lawrence's time on Bridal Veil hadn't been as difficult as he'd expected. Preston had introduced him to many of the gentlemen visitors and included him in some of the card games, where Lawrence had met with some success. Unfortunately, once he won at cards, he used his winnings to bet on the horses. His luck on those wagers hadn't been as triumphant, but because of the many contacts he'd made, Lawrence counted his time on Bridal Veil a success. He'd been careful not to make enemies by winning extreme amounts from any of the men. Maintaining influential contacts was the primary asset of a gambler, a lesson Lawrence had learned long ago. “Win but don't be greedy”—that was his motto, and it had served him well.

Once the racetrack was completed, Garrison's expectations hadn't been overtiring. As long as everything operated smoothly at the racetrack, Lawrence could come and go without a problem. And giving the young lads who worked with him a little of his winnings from time to time gained him loyalty among them. Their loyalty permitted him even more time away from the horses and racetrack, and it didn't cost him much.

He lifted his booted foot into the stirrup of a chestnut mare and waved to the young man mucking a stall. “I'm going over to look after my horse. If anyone comes looking for me, tell him I'll return after lunch.” The boy waved in return and continued with his work as Lawrence tugged the left rein and guided the horse toward the path. More than once, Lawrence had considered assigning one of the stable boys the care of Midnight Flight, but in the end, he decided it best to care for the horse himself.

Though he still hadn't located the bill of sale, Lawrence no longer feared the arrival of authorities. Mr. Jacoby had been the instigator, and he and his wife had departed for a tour of Europe a few weeks ago. Once Lawrence learned of Jacoby's departure, he erased the matter from his thoughts. He only wished Melinda would do the same. Each time he saw her, she nagged him about the bill of sale, and he'd begun to wonder if she, too, believed he'd stolen the horse.

He dismounted the chestnut mare and tied her outside the stone building. “There you are, my beauty,” he said as he quietly approached the horse. No one could deny the magnificence and speed of Midnight Flight
,
but he was a well-bred, high-strung racehorse that required a steady hand. “You're happier away from those other horses, aren't you?” The horse nickered as if to agree.

Lawrence lifted the leather reins and bridle from a hook and patted the horse's smooth coat as he moved forward. He continued talking to the horse as he removed the halter and dropped the reins around the animal's neck. After wrapping his arm under Midnight Flight's head, Lawrence stroked the horse's nose. Using his free hand, he lifted the bridle into place. “Good boy.”

The horse shifted as Lawrence backed from the stall and stepped to the doorway. Certain he'd heard the sound of an approaching horse, Lawrence squinted against the sun and trained his focus on the path. A moment later he caught sight of a large bay rounding the bend in the road, and his shoulders tensed. He sighed and relaxed once he recognized the rider as Preston Powers. He waved in return and stepped back into the enclosure.