They kissed each other's cheeks and hugged again.
"Who was that man you were sitting with?" Clara asked. Sara looked up at her friend. "His name is Jack Summers. I met him this morning. It's a long story that I can't wait to tell you!"
"All I know is that he wasn't Montague Fordice."
"No," Sara said sadly. "And Jack's nothing like Montague Fordice either."
Clara raised an eyebrow. "I can't wait to hear everything."
"Can you join me here?"
Clara looked down at her black blouse and skirt with the white ruffled apron. "I've finished working, and I was just walking home when I saw you here, so I have time to talk. But I'm not allowed to sit on the piazza in my uniform."
"Then let's go to my cottage."
"Just like old times." Clara extended her hands to help Sara up.
With arms linked, they strolled and talked non-stop, remembering the past and catching up on the present.
# # #
"Damnation!" Jack said as he kicked a stone on his way to the stables. He knew that Sara had been ready to say something about the incident before Clara had happened upon them.
Clara Cunningham of all people. She would recognize him for sure. He was always at their house in his younger days, and Steve was always at his. They both used to tease Clara unmercifully. He'd lost track of Steve over the years, and would have loved to talk to Clara and ask her about him, but he couldn't until his mission was finished.
# # #
Nervously, Bea fingered the broach at her neckline, as she watched Montague Fordice blot at his upper lip with a folded handkerchief. His eyes were red-rimmed and he looked. . . puffy.
"My word, this is scandalous! I cannot have my betrothed keeping company with another man. They should have been back hours ago," he said in his haughty voice that had come to grate on her nerves.
"I must say I agree with you, Montague," Bond said. "I do not like this one bit."
"What do you know about Summers?"
"He came very highly recommended by a professor of veterinary science at Cornell University," Bond stated. "He said he knew someone who would like a position for the season working with horses, and I said that I would make an appointment to speak with the man. Later, Jack came to my office, I liked what he had to say, so I gave him complete control over my stable. I believe him to be a good man, but truthfully I don't know much more about him."
"And now he's disappeared with your daughter," Monty snapped.
“And your fiancé.” Bond’s hands clenching into fists. "We must find her."
Listening to the exchange, Bea took a deep breath of the warm night air. Maybe she shouldn't have pushed Jack and Sara together so quickly and suggested they go for a walk. But even though she didn't know much about Jack Summers, she liked him a whole lot better than the arrogant popinjay in front of her.
"I'm sure nothing has happened," she assured both men. "They're probably strolling in the courtyard, and we probably just keep missing them."
"Well, you know she can't walk fast with that limp of hers," Montague hissed.
Bond and Bea looked at him sharply.
"I am simply stating fact. I mean no disrespect in regard to her...ah...affliction. We've already walked twice around the piazza. We've looked around the courtyard, too. Let's check the front verandah. That's probably where they are–watching the passersby on Broadway." Montague checked his pocket watch.
Bea started down the walk. "I'll go back to the cottage to see if she might be there."
"Good idea, Bea. I'll meet you back at the cottage in fifteen minutes. If she's not at either place, I shall call in the police," Bond said.
"And I shall see to it that Summers is behind bars soon. I haven't liked him from the start," Montague said.
"Don't act hastily, gentlemen. I'm sure this can easily be explained," Bea said calmly.
Bond removed his hat, raked his fingers through his hair, then put his hat back on. "Let's just find Sara before we decide on what action to take."
"Yes, you're absolutely right, Bond. You go ahead with Bea. I can look for Sara on my own."
# # #
Montague Fordice waited until they both had disappeared from view, then he checked his watch again as he hurried to the verandah. He would have been back at the casino by now if the silly, little fool hadn't disappeared.
He supposed that Sara Peterson was pretty enough, but his tastes ran to the more experienced women of the world.
Yes, this day had been absolutely horrible. First, he was punched and embarrassed by that insipid, muscle-bound gorilla. Then he had lost three thousand dollars at Richard Canfield's Casino just before dinner. That was why he had been late. He had been trying to get some of his money back, but he wasn't lucky, and Canfield was ready to shut off his credit.
His horse, Bravo Joe had to win the Travers. Otherwise, he would be ruined and would have to marry Sara Peterson for her money. He might even have to go to work for her father.
He supposed he could tolerate marriage to the girl. He would simply ignore her and never be home. He would still have his mistresses on the side.
But work?
Montague Fordice never worked. People worked for him. And he didn't intend to start working now.
Instead of looking for Sara, he headed toward Canfield's Casino.
CHAPTER 3
"I don't know what I would have done if something had happened to you." Aunt Trixie stirred the cream into her tea with more enthusiasm than necessary. The silver spoon clinked against the fine English bone china until Sara thought it would shatter.
"I am perfectly fine and Jack was a perfect gentleman, Aunt Trixie. He left when Clara came. I was so excited to see her, but she couldn't sit on the piazza because she was wearing her maid's uniform, so we went to the cottage."
Sara stared down at her cereal and plump strawberries remembering how Jack left so abruptly last night. "That's where you found us. It's as simple as that. I wish you wouldn't worry about me–either of you."
Bond shook his head. "Well, daughter, we know very little about Mr. Summers, and we shouldn't have left you alone with him. I realize that social barriers are more relaxed here, and that's one of the reasons I'm fond of Saratoga, but we still have to be careful. The Springs does attract some riffraff this time of year."
Suddenly, she lost her appetite as the chops, fish and omelets were served. "Are you saying that because Jack is a groom, I cannot associate with him?"
"No...not exactly," Bond mumbled, then frowned and reached for his coffee. "But I don't understand all this talk about Jack Summers any way. Have you forgotten your engagement to Montague?"
Sara sighed. "No, I haven't. I think of it constantly."
"Good!" her father punched the air with a fist. "That's the way it should be."
Aunt Trixie picked up her napkin and dabbed at the corners of her mouth. "Now, Bond, Mr. Summers is completely honorable in this...this mix-up. He simply left when Clara came so the girls could talk."
"I suppose that's true, but let's not forget that Summers is my employee and–"
"Excuse me, Bond, would you pass the current jelly?" Bea asked.
"Certainly, my dear. Now what was I saying?"
Bea took the silver bowl of jelly that he had passed. "We just started to tell you that after breakfast we are going to take the carriage and go to Congress Springs for our daily drink of the waters. Then we are off to the mineral baths."
"That's a fine plan," Bond said.
Sara hid a smile at her aunt's cleverness. "What will you be doing, father?"
"I have some business to talk over with Morgan and Rockefeller, then I will probably attend the morning concert on the piazza."
Sara nodded. "Aunt Trixie, after our mineral bath can we watch Seawind work out on the practice track?" A shiver of excitement went up Sara's spine.
"Truthfully, I would rather shop on Broadway; however, I insist you run along and peek in on your horse. Johnson can wait
for you with the carriage. I can walk back to our cottage when I'm done, or hire another carriage."
"Are you sure, Aunt Trixie?" Sara held her breath. She wanted to ride Seawind so desperately, but she knew that her thoroughly modern aunt wouldn’t tolerate her doing so, even at the Springs.
"Yes, my dear, it's perfectly fine. We can go our separate ways and meet here when we are finished." Aunt Bea smiled.
Her father grunted. "Well it's not perfectly fine with me. I insist you have a chaperone, Sara. We were just discussing that Jack Summers, weren't we? He will be with Seawind, and I don't want you alone with the man." A waiter appeared at Bond's side and poured more coffee into his cup.
"Daddy, Johnson will be there, and probably Toady, but if it makes you feel better, I'll see if Clara can accompany me."
Aunt Bea folded her napkin and put it on the left side of her plate. "Since Mr. Reed is here, why don't you have him ask Chef Morris to prepare a picnic basket for you? It looks like it is going to be a lovely day."
"What a wonderful idea! Thank you for suggesting it, Aunt Trixie." Sara reeled with excitement. She would ask Jack to share her picnic basket.
"Mr. Reed, would you ask Chef Morris to pack a picnic lunch?" Her father spoke before she could.
"Yassir, Mr. Peterson. I'm sure he'd be delighted to fix something special for Miss Sara," the waiter replied with a wide grin.
"Oh, and–"
"Yes, Miss Sara?"
"Would you remind Chef Morris that I have a big appetite?"
"I'll remind him, but there's no need. Chef Morris says the only one that can eat more than you, Miss Sara, is Mr. Diamond Jim Brady." He shook his head and chuckled.
"Bond, where is Montague this morning?" Aunt Trixie asked when the waiter left. "And I'm still wondering why he didn't appear at the cottage last night. He never knew that we found Sara."
Bond's eyes narrowed. "The same thing crossed my mind. Monty must have discovered somehow that Sara was at the cottage and decided not to bother us. If I run into him later, I'll certainly find out, but this morning I assume he's probably at the track or the stables watching Bravo Joe work out."
Sara's heart dropped. It wouldn't do to run into Monty, especially if she was dressed in Toady’s silks. She would take a chance, however. Anything to ride Seawind.
"I'll send for Johnson."
"No need, Bond," Aunt Trixie said. "I sent him a note earlier. He should be waiting for Sara and I in front of the hotel with the carriage."
# # #
Sara smoothed her skirt and joined her aunt in the carriage for the short ride to the Fountain Hall at the Congress Spring.
The pavilion was a beautiful place to drink the waters. The stained glass windows transferred rainbow hues from the sun to the tiled floors. Baskets of bright, spicy-scented petunias hung from every available carved beam.
Fancy chairs and tables were scattered here and there, but many of the drinkers at the Congress Spring preferred to lean on the mahogany counters that were especially constructed for just that purpose. The waters were drawn by elaborate pulleys from the well and served by men stationed behind the counter. Each glass had "Congress Spring" engraved on it.
As if she was reading her mind, Aunt Trixie sighed. "It is a beautiful Drinking Hall, but I can remember when dipper boys would serve the water. They would stand by the pipe or the rock opening, and dip in four glasses fastened to long sticks. And there was just a small pavilion back then which hardly provided enough shelter from the sun or elements. Now just look at the modern conveniences. What will they think of next?"
As Sara took her first drink of the season of the horrible smelling, salty, bubbling water, she prayed that the healthy waters would help her leg.
They left the building and walked through a long covered walkway with open sides and elaborate woodwork, their shoes clicking against the brick floor. Smiling a greeting to other patrons, they enjoyed the sweet morning air perfumed with the scent of roses and new cut grass. The leaves of the stately elms swayed in the slight breeze. It was going to be a beautiful summer day–a glorious day for a picnic.
Sara took a deep breath. Every nerve in her body tingled with anticipation of riding Seawind and asking Jack Summers to picnic with her.
"Shall we go for our mineral bath now?"
"Aunt Trixie, would you mind if I skip the bath this morning and go right to the stables? I'd like to check on Seawind."
Her aunt smiled and raised an eyebrow. "I understand, dear, but I'll bet my new corset that Seawind isn't all you're checking on."
Sara laughed. "Aunt Trixie, your language!"
She laughed. "I was young once. You run along and pick up Clara along the way. Remember what your father said about a chaperone." She kissed Sara on the check and squeezed her hand. Turning to the carriage driver, she said. "Johnson, hail me another carriage, please, and then take Sara to Clara's house."
"Yes, ma'am, Miss Beatrix," Johnson said, hurrying off.
"Thanks so much, Aunt Trixie," Sara said.
"You just run along and enjoy the day. Don't wear yourself out, dear.” Aunt Trixie tugged at a glove. “Why don't you invite Mr. Summers to the ball at the Union this Saturday?"
"I couldn't!"
"Why not?"
"Because he...I..."
"Because he's a groom?"
"No, Aunt Trixie. You know that I don't care about that."
"Then what is it, dear?"
"It's because I'm betrothed."
"Oh, yes. I must have forgotten." Her aunt tapped her French fan against the palm of her hand. "What are you going to do about that particular problem?"
She should have never let her father push her into an engagement with Montague Fordice. Some day, she’ll get enough nerve to stand up to him, to stand up for herself.
"As soon as the time is right, I'll tell both Daddy and Monty. I'll tell them both...soon."
“Don’t delay too long, dear.” Aunt Trixie's carriage arrived, pulled to a stop and Johnson helped her in. She waved back at Sara and called, "Have a wonderful day."
Sara blew her a kiss. "You, too. And thank you!"
She watched the departing carriage for a while. What would she have done without her aunt these past months? After the accident, Aunt Trixie had been like a shelter in a storm to Sara and her father. She had mended their hearts with exquisite stitches.
Wistfully, Sara wished she possessed one ounce of her aunt's confidence and gumption. If she did, she'd immediately inform her father that she didn't wish to marry Montague.
"Ready, Miss Sara?"
"Yes, Johnson. To Clara's house."
"Yes, Miss Sara."
A half-hour later when they arrived at Clara's, Johnson found that Clara wasn't home. Sara's disappointment knew no bounds. Clara's mother walked over to the carriage and explained to Sara that she was working at the United States Hotel this very minute, filling in for someone who had taken ill, and wouldn't be home until quite late.
"Shall I drive you back to the hotel, Miss Sara?"
"I suppose so."
Sara settled herself in the carriage. Her gaze wandered to the picnic basket that Chef Morris prepared. She had such a wonderful day planned, and now she couldn't go.
Could she?
"Johnson, take me to the stables, please."
"Umm...ah...I shouldn't, Miss Sara. Please now Miss Sara, don't ask me to take you there without Miss Clara or Miss Beatrix. Them stables is no place for a young lady like yourself. No, miss. Not at all."
"Johnson, I'll be fine. I am meeting someone there, and you will be waiting for me, so what can happen? I desperately need to check on Seawind."
His brown eyes grew wide, and he shook his head. "I don't know, Miss Sara. If somethin' happened, Mr. Bond would have my head. He surely would."
"I'll tell him that I ordered you do take me there. Now, hurry, Johnson. The sun is getting hot in this open carriage." She opened her parasol and held it over her head, waving her hand for him to dri
ve on. She normally wasn't impatient with Johnson, but she just had to insist.
Johnson shrugged his shoulders, and drove toward the stables. "If you say so, Miss Sara. If you say so."
Even though her father would be furious if he ever found out that Clara didn't accompany her to the stables, she was proud of herself and her small victory. She was doing what she wanted, not what her father wanted her to do – or what society expected her to do.
As the carriage rolled down Union Ave, Sara's heart began to do small flips in her chest. She would see Jack Summers in a short time. What was it about the man that intruded on her thoughts every minute since she had met him? She wished that he hadn't run off last night when Clara appeared, so she could have introduced him and they could have gotten acquainted. She could always count on Clara to give her an honest opinion.
She was also hoping to see first hand how he was doing with Seawind. Seawind was a good judge of character, too.
She needn't have wondered, because as the carriage turned near her father's stables, she saw Seawind following Jack around like a big puppy. The tall thoroughbred was nudging Jack's back with his nose, and Jack was laughing as he walked.
"Get away, Seawind, I have work to do. Get back in your stall or I'll put you in front of one of those fancy carriages and you can drag society folk around for the rest of your life."
Sara laughed, content in the knowledge that Seawind adored Jack.
And she was beginning to suspect that she did, too.
# # #
The horse whinnied and pushed him again, shoving Jack forward. He tripped and landed face down in the dirt, not far from a pile of horse droppings.
"Why you buzzard bait, I'll–"
The sound of a woman's laughter stopped him from uttering the litany of profanities he was ready to unleash. He looked up and saw a pale green satin hem with just a flash of white lace underneath. Tiny black shoes were level with his eyes.
He pushed himself up easily and stood. "Miss Peterson, I didn't expect you this early."
He wiped his hands on his trousers, then brushed the dirt from the front of his shirt. "Your horse is full of vinegar today. He needs a good run to get rid of some of his energy."
Saratoga Sunrise Page 4