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 t
o 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.
Sarah twirled a cinnamon stick in her sorbet. “I believe we are better entertainment than the orchestra.”
Elena lifted her glass of bubbly mineral water in a salute. “We’re certainly having more fun.”
Mama and Lydia laughed.
“They will have to start charging an admission fee to watch us play,” Mama said.
“I need to finish packing.” Sarah took her last bite of sorbet and pushed back her chair, glancing at Mama and then Elena. “I’m going to miss all of you.”
The tears in Sarah’s eyes surprised Elena. How they could be friends, after all that had happened between them, was yet another miracle.
As Sarah walked toward the lobby, Elena scanned the patio and saw the Frederick family, Mr. and Mrs. Frederick dining with their two sons. Mrs. Frederick’s arms were like spindly tree limbs growing through the billowing sleeves of her canary-yellow dress.
When had she lost so much weight?
“Mama,” Elena said, elbowing her mother.
Her mother turned to see Mrs. Frederick, and Lydia’s gaze followed. Mama looked back at Lydia. “She looks terrible.”
Lydia lifted her iced tea and took a long drink, as if she were teetering between forgiveness and clinging to her bitterness. “Perhaps she should join us for dessert.”
“Thank you,” Mama said as she scooted back her chair.
In that moment, Elena had never been prouder of her mother.
The news of Gracie Frederick’s running off with Edward had trumped the gossip about what he had tried to do to Elena, but she hadn’t heard Mama talk ill about what Gracie had done, not even once. And now instead of gossiping about the Fredericks, she had gone to talk with Mrs. Frederick. Perhaps if any good were to come out of what happened with Edward, it would unite people—like her and Sarah—who might otherwise have remained divided.
Except for Chase. He chose to separate himself.
Mama pulled out a chair for Mrs. Frederick, and the woman placed her glass of wine on the table before she sat. Long shadows dipped under her eyes.
“My husband and boys—” she began. “He is taking them fishing for the afternoon.”
Elena nodded. “I’m glad you can join us.”
“Have you heard from your daughter?” Lydia asked.
Mrs. Frederick stared at the red liquid in her glass. “I received a letter from her yesterday.”
Lydia set down her tea. “Oh?”
“She said they are in Toronto.”
She didn’t mentioned Edward’s name, perhaps out of respect for Lydia or perhaps out of respect for her daughter. They all knew she’d left with him; they didn’t need to know anything else.
Lydia turned the glass. “I hope she is well.”
“As well as to be expected, I suppose.” Mrs. Frederick managed a tight smile. “She said they would summer here with us, next year.”
The moment the words came from her mouth, Mrs. Frederick looked mortified. “I’m so sorry,” she blurted as she stood up, looking as though she might run. “He’s still married, to your dau—”
Lydia stopped her. “Sit down, Elizabeth.”
Mrs. Frederick sat faster than Galileo at the command of his master.
Lydia’s eyes softened. “I’m glad your daughter is safe.”
“I hope she is.”
“Sarah will get the divorce if Edward doesn’t.”
Mrs. Frederick smoothed back her hair, as if the straightening of her appearance would somehow repair the mess inside of her. “It’s a terrible state of affairs.”
“Elizabeth.” Lydia leaned forward. “I have a very important question for you.”
Mrs. Frederick looked terrified. “What is it?”
“Do you know how to play lawn tennis?”
Chapter Thirty
Lovers promenaded hand in hand on the walk around Lake Michigan’s shore. People rode their bicycles, and children licked all manner of flavored ice cream from cones.
Chase maneuvered around a couple laughing quietly together, trying to clear his mind with a walk, but Elena seemed to haunt him wherever he went. Another couple embraced near the railing, and he looked away. Other people found love in their lifetime. Why couldn’t he?
Someday, perhaps, he would meet a woman he longed to be with as much as he wanted to be with Elena. A woman who wanted to be with him as well. If only Elena had been a governess or even a housemaid. If only she hadn’t known who he was…
Elena would be back in Chicago in four weeks, her father said—but Chase would be gone, back to Detroit, by then. He would begin working on a new project while Arthur oversaw the production of the telescopes. Richard had a list of things he wanted Chase to test, a number of people to meet, but Chase seemed to have lost his enthusiasm for his work. Another financier had won the bid to invest in the dish-washing machine that had once intrigued him, but he didn’t even care.
Richard was right. He felt miserable, and it was rubbing off on all those around him.
He wandered down the walk until he arrived at a restaurant near the pier. Aunt Lottie was waiting inside, her lips rosy with salve. She was ten years his mother’s senior, but she never seemed to age.
He kissed her cheek before he sat across from her at the table.
“You look tired,” she informed him before she took a bite of her peach pie.
He raked his hands through his hair. “I’ve been busy working.”
She tsked. “You and your father are just alike, always working. How long have you been in Chicago?”
“Almost three weeks now.” Not including his trip back to Mackinac.
“And in three weeks you couldn’t find the time to come see me?” She stirred cream into her coffee. “Did you meet my friends on Mackinac, the Bissette family?”
“You know everyone in Chicago, Aunt Lottie.”
The steward poured coffee into a cup for him. “But I wanted you to meet the Bissettes in particular.”
He sighed. “I made their acquaintance.”
“They’re a fine family. The daughter is quite the belle of Chicago.”
“I can see why.”
“I like Miss Bissette.” Lottie sipped her coffee. “I admit, I was hoping you’d like her too.”
He choked on the coffee and put it down.
“There, there,” she said. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“I’m not upset. Just took too big of a sip.” He wiped his mouth with the napkin. This was the exact reason he hadn’t scheduled a visit with Aunt Lottie before now. He thought he was ready to talk about Elena, but apparently he wasn’t.
“I was actually hoping you might help me find someone.”
She sipped her coffee again. “Who is it you’re trying to find?”
“I found an old diary on Mackinac. It’s a story without an ending.”
“Fascinating,” she said, before she took another bite of her pie.
“I want to track down the writer of the diary and her descendants, to see what happened to them.”
Aunt Lottie looked at him like he’d lost his mind.
“For a friend,” he clarified.
“I have a close friend whose husband owns a detective agency.” She picked up another piece of pie with her fork. “He might be able to help.”
“Thank you, Aunt Lottie.”
He leaned back on the chair, hoping he could do this one last thing for Elena…and for Claude. She wouldn’t even have to know who instigated it.
* * * * *
A four-year-old girl spun a top back and forth across the room while Elena played blocks on the floor with a little boy. Four mattresses were propped up against the wall with two more children bouncing on a fifth mattress as Jillian fed the baby her bottle. The general and his wife had escaped to dinner in the village for the evening, and th
ey had allowed Elena to come and help her for an hour.
Jillian laughed as Elena told her about their lawn tennis games—how ridiculous the women had looked on the court and yet the fun they’d had. Their game had ended abruptly with a swollen ankle for Lydia and a bruised pinky for Mama when Lydia ran to hit a ball and tripped. That was the exact reason, Mama had informed Leonard, that a lady must never return a ball. The hotel boys were there to return the balls for them.
Still, there was talk of playing again next year, if the Bissettes returned to the island.
“Are you happy here?” Elena asked her friend.
Jillian looked at the baby in her arms and wiggled one of her toes. “For now.”
Elena set another block on the tower and it toppled down. She thought the boy might cry, but he cheered instead. “Again!” he demanded.
As she helped the child build the tower once more, she marveled. Not only did God create the majesty in the skies, but every single day, He created on the earth, forming children like this one in their mother’s womb. Each of the children in this family looked different. Each was a unique creation of His.
She set down another block. “Has Parker been back to visit you?”
Jillian shook her head.
“I’m sorry.”
Jillian lifted the baby to her chest to burp her. “It’s all right, Elena. I’m content.”
“But still—”
Jillian interrupted. “Have you heard from Mr. Darrington?”
“I won’t hear anything from him.”
“I don’t understand,” Jillian said. “He loved you, Elena. It was as plain as the stars in the sky.”
If only she and Chase could go back in time. If only they could keep pretending that her name was Andy and that he was a soldier at Fort Mackinac. But her secrets—and his obstinance—had ruined it.
“You can’t always see the stars as clearly as you’d like, not with the clouds in the way.”
“He was kind to both Silas and me, and he made sure I found a good position.”
Someone knocked on the door, and the sound relieved Elena. She didn’t want to hear about Chase’s kindness.
“Could you get that?” Jillian asked.
Love Finds You in Mackinac Island, Michigan Page 26