“Come,” she said, suddenly rising. She reached down to him as if he needed help getting up. “Let’s take a swim.”
He took her hand and rose, glancing back at Mr. Grunthall, who was sitting beneath an umbrella twenty paces away, beside Pascal and Antonio. Antonio gave him a two-finger salute, his white teeth gleaming against his olive skin. Simon Grunthall looked grumpy, peering at them beneath the brim of his sun hat. For a moment, Will wondered if he should persuade Cora to stay under the protection of the umbrella, away from curious onlookers who might spot them and identify them to the press. He knew Grunthall had been inundated with inquiries once journalists learned he was traveling with them as secretary. The man went off to the nearest telegraph office every day to collect them from his assistant. But were any of them here? Off the beaten path of tourists?
Will scanned the beach, anxiously watching for any interloper. But when he glanced back to Cora and saw that she was already thigh-deep in the water, her bathing costume’s skirt floating on the crystalline surface, he knew he didn’t have the gumption to stop her. She grinned over her shoulder at him, and his heart seemed to actually stop for a moment, so lovely was she. So free. And he was again lost to the gift of this time with her. Exploring, experiencing.
Let me accept the gift for now, he prayed, wading in after her. In the distance, her sisters and brother splashed one another, and she was clearly angling in their direction. He caught up with her and took her hand. She paused, gasping as the cold water hit her belly and then higher, but forged onward, gradually getting accustomed to the temperature. He walked alongside her, unable to keep from grinning.
She was treading water before him, while his height afforded him more time on his feet. “Where did you learn to swim?” he asked, deciding she looked more like one of Homer’s enticing sirens than a lady. She’d thrown her hat to the sand, and now, tendrils of her hair were coiling in the water around her, clinging to her neck when she lifted higher in the water. He longed to unpin the rest of it. To see it flowing all about her. To see her totally free…
“There used to be a pond on a neighboring farmer’s land. There was a big tree and a deep hole. We played there for hours.” Then, as if in a vision, she pulled the pins from her hair, letting one coil of hair fall about her shoulders and into the water.
“Cora, what will they think?” he asked in alarm, looking to the beach.
“Who? Silly Mr. Grunthall? Who worries about strangers on the beach? For once, let us not care about others.” She finished her task and tucked the pins in a small pocket on her bathing costume, as if it had been made for just that. “This is what I long to do.” And with that, she laid back, floating on the surface of the water. Her hair swirled in a glorious creamy cloud about her head. She looked up at him, with more than a hint of flirtation in her pretty blue eyes, like a reflection of the water itself. It startled him, because she was usually not given to flirtation. But then it sent a surge of pleasure through him.
He couldn’t stop himself. He picked her up in his arms, cradling her close, featherlight in the water. She gasped and blinked in surprise. “Will…” she said, now glancing back to the shore in concern.
“I thought we weren’t thinking of others,” he said, smiling down at her. “Oh, Cora, how I love you. You are…” He looked up and then back down at her. “You are every kind of gift to me that I could imagine. So much more than any woman I ever imagined by my side.”
She smiled softly. “And you are just the right man for me,” she said. “Now come, float beside me, will you? Let us just be for a moment, you and I. Together.”
He reluctantly released her back to the waters like a captive mermaid set free, and she immediately closed her eyes, bobbing on the gentle waves. He did the same, the water closing in around his face and neck, and he filled his lungs and allowed himself to float too, but he didn’t feel nearly as light as she appeared. Their fingers brushed against each other as they floated, side by side, the sun beaming down on them, warming them, probably giving them new burns. But Will didn’t care. Because in that moment, for a moment, life felt absolutely, gloriously perfect.
Even if it wasn’t. He struggled to keep his mind on the moment, rather than letting it slip back to the quagmire of their future. Where could these paths possibly lead? How was he to marry a girl with such a vast fortune when he had so little? He would be an object of scorn. And what of his dreams to become an architect? Suddenly, he was free of his uncle’s debts, but how was he to attend college if she had to be in Montana, helping to manage the mine? He doubted there was yet a university in the state that offered an architectural degree…and more and more, that was where he thought God was leading him.
It was then that Felix swam beneath him and pulled him under.
Will came up sputtering, half laughing, half mad. He went after his old college mate, remembering their wrestling match the day of their reunion in Montana. Again and again the two of them went under, until Felix, desperate for air, pulled loose of Will and rose to the surface.
“I give! I give!” Felix shouted, hands splayed outward, his lips just above the bouncing waters of the sea.
“Honestly, you two,” Vivian said, shoulder-deep beside Cora. The others gathered around them. “When will you grow up?”
“I hope they never do,” Cora said, eyes shining, grinning. “At least not entirely.” She looked about. “Do you all know how I longed for siblings as I grew up? How I wished I were a part of one of the houses in my town that was brimming with children? Now, at last, I am.”
Andrew groaned and looked sick to his stomach. “Heavens, it’s all so sweet, I feel as if I’m floating on a sea of honey.”
Vivian frowned at him. “You needn’t be so nasty.”
The rest of them frowned at him too. “Don’t be such a lout, Morgan,” Felix said, splashing him. “My sister is only trying to be nice.”
“That’s the trouble,” Andrew said, rolling his eyes. “She’s always so nice.”
“I never knew that was a problem,” Cora said, clearly not feeling pleasant at all toward him. “And haven’t we been getting along the last couple of days?”
“You’ve been a gift to us too, Cora,” Lillian said, taking Cora’s hand to squeeze it.
“Yes, well,” Andrew said. “Now that you all have bonded, perhaps we should go in now before Mr. Grunthall has a fit of apoplexy.”
“He’s right,” Will said, glancing toward the beach. Sure enough, Simon was standing at the water’s edge, shielding his eyes as he peered toward them. “We’ve had enough sun, too. If we’re not careful, we’ll all look like Cora did a few days ago.”
“I resent that!” she cried indignantly.
He laughed and dived under the water when she tried to splash him, moving with long strokes a safe distance away. But as he rose, he knew he never wanted to be farther than this from Cora Diehl Kensington. Regardless of what it might cost him.
CHAPTER 8
Cora
I pored over the blueprints and architectural renderings of the Kensington-Diehl Mine, stifling a groan as the others in our party gathered, all merry, the girls in their peasant dresses and woven sandals, the men in plain shirts and trousers. The girls had their hair in braids, no hats in sight, and the men didn’t don any covering for their heads either. They were off to hike the trail linking each of the five villages that made up the Cinque Terre, intent on blending in with the locals as much as possible and spending the night in the farthest village. But not me. My father and Mr. Morgan had made it clear that today we must make some critical decisions about the mine and telegram the foremen in Montana to let them know. And we were as yet at odds as how to resolve a few key issues.
“I wish I could remain here with you,” Will said when we paused in a corner of the grand foyer together.
“No, you don’t,” I said with a smile. “You wish I was going with you, just as I wish.”
“Well, yes, that would be preferable. I hate it that you a
re missing this.”
“Perhaps we can find some time tomorrow evening together, and you can tell me the region’s tales.”
“They’re good ones,” he said, arching a brow and brushing my bare hand with his. “Of pirates and fortresses and navies…”
“Please do remember the best ones for me, all right?” I said, wishing I could stand up on tiptoe and kiss him. But I knew that more than one set of eyes lingered over us.
“I will. Hold your own in there, Miss Diehl Kensington.” He nodded to the two open doors that led to a small office. Already, Andrew Morgan stood in a corner, reading a document, the sun spilling over his shoulder. I stifled a sigh. Apparently he was staying behind too.
“I shall, Mr. McCabe,” I returned. “Lead them onward.”
“Only if it circles back to you,” he whispered in my ear. And then he was gone, the happy chatter and laughter seeping out the house with the group. I pushed thoughts of grand views and remote villages and swimming from my mind and focused on the task at hand, squaring my shoulders and marching back into the office. Our fathers had not yet come down, but Andrew watched me enter. I ignored him and turned the blueprints on the large desk to the page that had kept me up late last night, thinking, thinking…
“It must be a trial for you, not being able to go with them,” Andrew said from over my shoulder.
“No more so than it is for you,” I said, my fingers running across the page, along the meandering line of the small river that split the vast area of rock.
“Come now. Admit it. This is a man’s place. You belong out there. Frolicking.”
“Frolicking,” I repeated stonily. “Honestly, Andrew, you treat me as if I don’t have a sound mind. Must I remind you that I was training to be a teacher before my father reentered my life?”
“Exactly,” Andrew said, his voice uncommonly soft. “So why not go and pursue education? Become a teacher of teachers if you wish for something of more…stature.” He shrugged. “But leave the family business to those who’ve been training all their lives to do this.”
I felt the sting of his words even if his tone was carefully neutral.
I turned to face him. “This, in particular the Kensington-Diehl Mine, is none of your concern. Perhaps you can rejoin us later, after my business with Father is concluded?”
It was then that our fathers arrived, each carrying a stoneware mug steaming with what smelled like coffee. Behind them was Mr. Grunthall.
“No, no,” my father said. “I want Andrew to be with us for this final meeting. He will be a support to you, Cora, in time. Won’t you, Andrew?” he said pointedly.
“Why, I aim to be nothing but a support,” Andrew returned, his smile catlike. I stifled a shiver. I really could not see any bit of what my sister saw in him. At least he hadn’t been violent of late. But what sort of faint praise was that?
“The precious days of summer are slipping away,” my father said, sitting down heavily in a chair and setting his mug beside him. He reached for a notebook and opened it. “Shall we get through what we must, without further ado?”
“Indeed,” I said, leaning against the table and resting a hand on the blueprint. “We need to begin with this,” I said, tapping the paper. “Your architect depicts the Gandy River flowing into the mine.”
“Of course,” he said. “We shall need to redirect the river and use the water to generate electricity.”
So I had read it right. I’d asked Will to look it over with me too, and he’d confirmed my suspicions. But neither of us had quite believed it was true. “But we cannot,” I said. “You know how dry that county is. How the farmers struggle to eke out a crop. If you take that water, how will they irrigate their fields?”
“Nonsense. It’s already done,” he blustered. “We’ve secured the water rights! None of those farmers have any sense if they remain. We’re doing them a favor, really, pressing their hand.”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “It isn’t right. We either need to find an alternate source of power and water, or we need to buy their land at a decent price. It will be worthless after we divert the water and build this dam.”
I heard Andrew chuckling behind me. Mr. Morgan and my father stared at me, while Mr. Grunthall scribbled notes on a pad. For what? His own article on me? He’d hinted that he would be writing such things. It was all so silly, so overwhelming…but this, this mission in my mind, was not. I was certain I must stick to my ideas. I could see my old neighbors in the small church with the white paint peeling from the sunbaked and snow-blasted boards. All fanning themselves as my old pastor rambled through a sermon. There was no way I could betray any of them.
“Every person in Dunnigan must gain from this strike, as we will most certainly gain,” I said, crossing my arms. “It shall cost us more up front, but we shall gain long-term, just as you did in Butte. Don’t you see?” I shook my head, boggled that they couldn’t seem to grasp it, that they were hesitating over my apparently outlandish ideas. “I don’t want to destroy my hometown. I want to build it to something even better than it was.”
My father looked at me intently, and at last a hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “So there is a bit of empire builder within you after all,” he mused. His smile faded. “But what you propose is most expensive. And not necessary at all. Darwin’s theories on the survival of the fittest and all that.”
“And we are clearly the most fit,” Andrew said.
“We are most fit to lead,” I returned, shooting him a dark glance. “Just because we can doesn’t mean we should. Honestly, would you need a press secretary,” I said, waving toward Simon, “if you were doing great, good things? Wouldn’t the stories write themselves in a way that benefited you—if the people honestly loved you rather than feared you? If they wanted to help build up you and the company rather than somehow tear you down?”
My father was silent a moment, steepling his fingers before him. “What exactly do you propose?”
“Can we not find more water from another source?”
He shook his head, and his silver beard wagged under his chin. “Not enough.”
“Then let us tackle it in a forthright manner. I wager you have squelched the news that we’ve brokered a deal for the water rights?”
He was still for a breath, then two. “I might have paid a few men the right amount to keep it quiet.”
I sighed and pushed away from the table, pacing to the doorway and turning. How I wished Dunnigan wasn’t so far away! That I could go and speak to my old neighbors and friends and tell them what I knew. Promise them that I’d make certain they were treated fairly. My eyes went to Mr. Grunthall, and I thought of his typing machine and sheaf of paper. He could help me! Get the word out to each and every one of them. I hurried back to the stack of blueprints and paged through them until I arrived at a broad-scale version that plotted out small homesteads and vast ranches, rectangles of land, alongside the miles of cliffs now owned by the Kensington-Diehl Mine.
My fingers traced one—the Ramstads’—then another—the Millers’. With each progressive plot of land, I could see weathered homes and derelict barns, failing fences. Very few of the ranches were successful enterprises.
“We will buy them out for a fair price. Allow them to start anew. Or stay right where they are and go to work for the mine. But they will no longer have to try and eke out a living from that soil.”
A shiver ran down my back. Was I not proposing something awfully similar to what Wallace Kensington had offered my mama? Forcing my folks out by “buying” them out? “No,” I amended. “We offer them more than twice the value for their land. Three times,” I said, gaining steam. “And we allow them to keep the acres on which their homes and barns sit.”
Andrew laughed, incredulous. “Thrice the value? Are you mad?” He turned toward our fathers. “She’ll run us out of business before she’s even begun!”
I looked back to my father, silently pleading with him to trust me in this, then ba
ck to Andrew. “This pertains only to the Kensington-Diehl Mine. And I am not in need of your vote on it.”
My father studied me for several long moments, tapping his fingertips together. He glanced over to his old partner. “She was right in regard to our labor negotiations in Butte.”
Mr. Morgan nodded. “There is a certain wisdom to it. Unconventional, for certain.”
“It’d be quite a story,” Mr. Grunthall said, lifting one black brow and shaking his head. “Your girl is already fascinating. This would ratchet her up to Molly Brown status. A Robin Hood figure, of sorts. Unconventional. Daring. But intrinsically good.”
My father let out a scoffing laugh and rose to meander over to the window and stare outward, still thinking. “The Kensington name has seldom been tied to anything remotely considered ‘intrinsically good.’”
I waited a moment. Then I said, “Isn’t it then time?” I eased around the table and went to stand beside him at the window. “Wouldn’t you much rather our name be tied to the good, the true? What if we led the country in showing how a business could succeed without treating our workers as cattle? What if every miner in America wanted to work for us over any other?”
His eyes shifted back and forth, searching mine. I knew he was running my words, our name, through his mind. It was echoing in my own. He slowly turned and lifted his hand for mine. After a moment’s hesitation, I slipped my fingers into his and he covered it with his other hand. “My dear, you truly believe this is the best course of action?”
“I believe it is the only course of action,” I returned steadily.
“Then,” he said, cocking his head, “I say you are the majority share owner, and I shall support—”
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