Taking the Plunge

by Angela Breidenbach

  "But—"

  "Evidently I need to add more discipline before you learn a lesson?"

  She hung her head, light hair and a limp blue ribbon drooped over her shoulders in a stringy mass. Poor girl resembled more of a cocker spaniel at the moment. "No, sir."

  Hugh folded his arms. He rather liked his employer's way of thinking and handling of his daughter. The colonel hadn't once raised his voice. "Sir, if I may, the women cannot survive in the deep end. Twelve feet is not safe for a lady, even one who thinks she can swim." Then he pointedly glanced in Miss O'Connor's direction. "Might I suggest a cord across the pool at the four-foot mark? I don't believe the ladies should venture deeper than four feet. The risk, as we've seen, is too great."

  "Just one minute. There's no need to limit the ladies to the shallow end." Miss O'Connor leapt to the defense of womankind everywhere. "This was an unusual circumstance. In fact, I've been able to swim—"

  "I did not see proof of that today, Miss O'Connor." He stepped closer. "In fact, I saw exactly the opposite as I saved your life."

  Everyone craned to catch up with the last banter, bebopping back and forth between them like birdies on the badminton court. "Indeed you did not, sir!" As her hair dried, it began to unravel into frizzy ropes that hung like Rapunzel's locks. Did she know how comical she appeared? "What you saw was two bodies fighting heavy woolens in the water. You did not see my lack of ability to swim. You couldn't have—"

  "You're making the point, Miss O'Connor. I pulled you both up with great effort and then all these boys assisted getting you and Wilder on the deck."

  "Why was that, Mr. Swim Instructor? Were we too heavy for you to get out of the water yourself?"

  Mr. Swim Instructor.

  "I do believe you've made my point."

  He meant to answer. He opened his mouth, about to, and then Hugh realized she was right. All five foot two of her and he'd needed help with the weight of those skirts.

  Colonel Broadwater took the reins of the conversation. "What I'm hearing is that my daughter nearly drowned because of her swim costume and that her teacher, and a very fit man, both had trouble because of these contraptions you ladies wear. Is that what you're telling me?"

  Both instructors answered at once, "Yes." Their eyes were drawn to one another. Hugh's were then drawn down the drenched lady in front of him. He couldn't really tell much of any detail under all that droopy black fabric. How many sheep were shorn for that outfit? Was there a woman under there? But something about the flaring fire in her eyes made him swallow. Hard.

  "Besides my own daughter's safety, these swimming costumes are putting any lady that chooses to enjoy the natatorium at risk. Is that what you're telling me?"

  Miss O'Connor nodded vigorously at his words while Hugh contemplated the unknown world of women's fashion. If that's what they wore, that's what they wore. "Sir, this is why we need to create some sort of mark the ladies shouldn't go beyond for their own safety."

  "No, that is not what we need."

  Miss O'Connor's inability to allow the men to protect her scorched his nerves. "If not that, then I can see the need to post extra lifeguards at all times. Can you be any less practical?"

  "My goodness, but your creativity astounds me." Miss O'Connor actually stepped in front of him and her tone...it stung him. "Truly, don't you think there's another way?" Then she turned her back on him.

  Did she just accuse him of being an imbecile? "Excuse me." Irritation seethed between his teeth.

  As she peeked over her shoulder, a hint of a smile tipped the corner of her mouth. "Of course." She blinked innocently as if she actually meant it, and then addressed Charles Broadwater. "I think the best opportunity we have for the safety of women from here on out would be to adopt the new swimming costumes European women are beginning to wear. That does away with all this excess fabric."

  Mrs. Broadwater gasped. "But modesty, Charles, we must protect the modesty of our patrons."

  "I wore a much less bulky swim outfit at college, Mrs. Broadwater." She reached a hand out and took the lady's in hers. "I assure you, the girls' modesty was not compromised. However, we were able to swim with safety. Wouldn't that be a good compromise?"

  The colonel stroked his manicured goatee as he thought. Then putting a hand on his daughter's head, he said, "Miss O'Connor, would you be able to show us some of these new designs? If Mrs. Broadwater and I could take a look at them, I'd consider replacing all the rental costumes. But we still have the challenge of affordability."

  The frizzy little Rapunzel tossed a conqueror's grin at Hugh. The sparkle in her amber eyes seared him like a burning beam swinging from a roof to bowl him over. Then an odd thought snuck up on him. If he had to work around her, he'd have to protect himself from this fiery female.

  Chapter 2

  Delphina poured over swimming costume designs in the small salon of the Broadwater Hotel as she sipped strong coffee from a regular china cup set marked with a red "B". Would bare arms be more shocking than tight fitting leggings? Could they do away with the swim slippers? That, at the very least, bringing similarity to the German women who'd already shunned slippers to compete. Swimming with slippers hampered a girl as much as all the yards of fabric. Both acted as dragging anchors in the water. Slippers because ankles couldn't flex for a proper propelling kick. Would she be pushing the social conventions too much outside of a college setting? But Montanans could be much more independent than society back East. More practical in the less forgiving western frontier.

  "The better choice, Miss O'Connor, is simply to stay in the shallows."

  She pressed her lips together before lifting her face to meet Hugh Thomas' oh too practical intrusion. Time to practice the fruits of the Spirit her mother badgered her with, though for some reason gentleness and self-control continued to elude Delphina's best intentions. Better not to alienate a co-worker, even if he was an aggravatingly opinionated male. Be nice. Be nice. She leveled her voice to something her mother would appreciate, making sure not to portray rudeness. "My father taught us all to swim before I was four. It's completely reasonable for women to be excellent swimmers."

  "It may be reasonable, but it simply isn't done. Women aren't meant to do sports. They're meant to—"

  "Meant to what? Women are competing in sports and excelling at them." Her better judgment flew out the window as the words flew out of her mouth. "Exactly how do you think women stay healthy? We aren't as helpless as you men want us to be, Mr. Thomas." There that ought to—my but he was a handsome man all cleaned up properly.

  "Want you to be? I don't want women to be helpless." His eyes held a no-nonsense expression. "They just are. Even the Bible says—"

  There he went preaching man-speak at her again. "The Bible! How dare you throw misquoted scripture at me to prove a ridiculous misinformed, male chauvinist—"

  A throat cleared, followed by a light cough, at the doorway.

  Both Delphina and Hugh twisted to find their well-liked and extraordinarily respected employer studying them both.

  She blushed, hating that she'd lost control of her temper again. But worse, that she'd be known for contention rather than proper manners. Why did Hugh Thomas bring out the worst in her when she'd prefer— Delphina chanced a side-glance through her lashes at the man who seemed most capable of goading her out of a job, if she didn't stop biting his bait. The last thing she wanted right now would be taking a train back to Philadelphia a failure. Mama would be sure to marry her off the moment the train arrived. Being allowed to go to college as the youngest child had been a huge feat—then it didn't work out so well at the end.

  "Miss O'Connor," Mr. Broadwater put his hands behind his back and walked over to the table. "Have you come to any decisions on appropriate swim wear for the ladies?"

  He completely ignored the argument. Did that mean she'd be called into his office privately? Or would he let it go?

  "Sir, I believe this outfit would be best." She shuffled a few sketches and offere
d a view of a fitted two-piece ensemble. The leggings stopped mid-calf and the sleeves covered the shoulders, but stopped just over the edge. "However, in light of the old-fashioned sentiments some people carry," Delphina lifted a brow at Hugh Thomas as her boss deliberated over the design. "I've also chosen two others with more tendency toward social approval." She shuffled the pages again and slipped one on either side of her favorite. Both had varying lengths of tunic skirts, sleeves, and longer trousers. None exhibited the twelve yards of fabric current swim costumes.

  "I see."

  Mr. Broadwater bent a balding head over the table. His non-committal response as he reviewed the designs sent a spasm of worry into her stomach. Were all three completely out of the question?

  Then the last person she wanted to hear from chose to speak. "Sir, I feel the expense is unjustified. Without the higher crowds yet coming to the natatorium, keeping the ladies in the shallow end would be much more profitable and reasonable. Certainly you can't expect every lady to purchase a new swim costume."

  "No, Hugh, I don't. But I am concerned for the safety of our patrons and their perception of being limited. I believe my Julia would enjoy peace of mind as well." He patted Delphina's shoulder. "If I always worried about other people's opinions, I wouldn't have succeeded in the wilds of Montana territory before we became a state. I spent years expanding the transportation system here when most men were mining. The business is always in the supply chain. I wouldn't have built my dream resort either. I study opinions, but I don't make my decisions based on an opinion alone."

  Delphina didn't begrudge the pride joy he displayed in the Broadwater Hotel and Natatorium. He'd earned it. Over five hundred thousand dollars went into the Moroccan architecture, landscaped grounds, and plush interior designs. The hotel and indoor swimming theatre rivaled the best the world had to offer, including the famous hot waters of Europe's Carlsbad, Bohemia.

  "The best we can do is the best we can do. Nothing less." Mr. Broadwater pulled out a hanky and coughed into it. "Pardon me. I have a little throat irritation. I may need to partake of my own healing waters today." He tucked the hanky back in his pocket with a reassuring smile.

  Delphina's trembling stomach eased. Everyone knew the medicinal waters improved a cold. Why they relieved arthritis, muscle aches, and recuperated languishing limbs. He'd feel much better for the soak. It'd be a good place for him to mull over the designs she'd suggested as well.

  "I believe, my dear, that you are a forward thinker, too. You believe women should have the right to swim and dress safely. Am I right?"

  "Yes, sir." She grinned. "Women shouldn't be given the right to swim and dress safely." She emphasized the word "given". "We need to act on those innate rights and stop throwing them away because someone else doesn't like that they exist."

  He nodded. "Well said. And do you believe, given the opportunity, that women would prefer safety over societal pressure to conform to certain fashions?"

  "Sir, your wife is a suffragette as are many of the women in Montana. From what I gather, you're very supportive of women's rights. If given the opportunity, women would very much prefer to choose their entitlement to safety and healthy exercise as freely as men do." She lifted the page corner of her first choice. "They might balk because this looks so different, but this one will help us protect swimmers while these others are better, they're not as safe. Make safer options available and they'll prefer it. Women are smart and logical."

  Mr. Thomas snorted. "Logic is another topic entirely."

  Placing a hand on the other man's shoulder, Mr. Broadwater observed, "It is quite different than the current styles."

  "Yes, but look at this newspaper article." She held it out for both men to scan. "Women are already moving into competition using clothing similar to this design—and not only in university settings. How in the world could they compete with skirts and blouses dragging them down?"

  He took the article and read it. When he finished, he laid the paper back on the table and sat in the nearby chair signaling the others to join him.

  As Delphina sat, Mr. Thomas stepped forward and held her chair. The surprise flitted across her face before she could capture it. "Thank you." Then she followed him with her gaze as he walked round to the other side. Who was he, a bore or—

  "I'm still a gentleman whether we agree or not." The twinkle in his eye glimmered as the clear electric lights shimmering from the chandelier. "My concern, Miss O'Connor, isn't whether women can swim. It's the incessant risk we're taking with lives, those of the swimmers and those that save foolhardy individuals."

  "I see. And you would have those risks continue when there's a way to minimize them?"

  "Of course not. But you're talking a society of people used to certain fashions and that includes locals and tourists, if they begin to come. Your idea would mean a drastic shift in how our society works."

  "Did you not just hear swim fashions are already changing in Europe?" She pushed the paper at him. "American fashions follow. It's easier than you think."

  Mr. Broadwater held up his hand. "I believe we've established women are interested in healthy activity, and apparently competition. As the swimming instructors, I'd like to know how you both think we can overcome social pressure from those who don't believe women should wear a costume that's say…" Mr. Broadwater leaned forward and tapped the center sketch that showed a woman's calves, "less than the usual modesty?"

  "We could replace the rentals all at once so there aren't any other options." Delphina suggested with a shrug.

  Mr. Thomas nodded. "That would help. But you're asking Mr. Broadwater to take on a huge outlay when tourism hasn't fully developed to support that kind of investment."

  "I do appreciate your concern for the resort's success, my boy, however if these are the European fashions then all the more crucial we keep up here. We can't appear behind the times and hope to participate in the marketplace."

  Delphina leaned forward on her chair. Could it be possible Mr. Broadwater would agree? "Consider the temperature of the water. With all that clothing layered on a woman's body, even those who want to stay and enjoy a bathe can't stay in the plunge for long before they're overheated."

  "May I?" Mr. Broadwater held his hand out for the designs. "I'll share them with my wife and give you a decision tomorrow."

  "Of course, sir." Delphina lifted the sheets and handed them to her boss. She couldn't keep her grin away if she'd tried. "I look forward to hearing your decision. I'm sure any of them will work. But I do hope she agrees with me on the most functional."

  "I'll let you know right away." He nodded at both of them and slid back his chair. "Now I leave you two to get better acquainted—and build a team from here on out. The other natatorium staff watches the two of you as an example. When one allows negativity into the workplace, it's like a wave of insects that eat the crop." He gave them each an eye-to-eye silent message—and Delphina caught the meaning. Figure out how to get along.

  But a team? What did he mean by that when there were only two people? Delphina stared after Mr. Broadwater as he sauntered across the highly polished wood floor.

  "You heard the man, Miss O'Connor, we're to become a team."

  "Mr. Thomas—"

  "Hugh. Since we're building camaraderie."

  "All right, Hugh, then." She determined to be amenable and met his first name offer with her own, plus a friendly smile. "My name is Delphina."

  "Really? Where did your parents come up with a moniker like that?"

  Her smile faded. "Really." She glanced out the elegantly appointed window. The paddleboats would be much preferable to small talk with the toad that belonged in the pond. But for the sake of her position, she might as well help the toad hop into polite conversation. "My parents have eight other children. We'd moved to Philadelphia shortly before my birth and my mother loved the sense of patriotism it gave her as a new American citizen. Hence, Delphina. My name celebrates the joy of becoming Americans and I happen to be the fi
rst born generation."

  His eyes widened. "That's an impressive legacy. I think I like your mother already."

  Maybe he wasn't quite a toad then. Delphina relaxed. "Most people do. My mother is quite popular. She's kind, funny, and generous."

  "Looking at her daughter, I can believe that." He leaned back into the leather chair.

  Was he complementing her? "I…don't know what to say. Thank you?"

  He chuckled. "It's only an honest observation. Although I don't think you intended to be funny tumbling like a newborn foal yesterday."

  She gasped at his rude reference. No, he was a toad. Gentlemen did not revive a lady's embarrassing incident. "You certainly know how to add insult to injury, don't you?" She folded her arms and turned a shoulder toward him. How could they build a team if half that team couldn't manage to observe common courtesies?

  "But I'd add persuasive and tenacious."

  Delphina stared at Hugh. "Oh those are admirable qualities, I'm sure."

  "Wait a minute there." He reached across the table and touched Delphina's elbow. "I'm not kidding. How you held onto Wilder and wouldn't let go even if you drowned with her, well, I doubt anyone else would have gone so far. That's the stuff of heroism."

  "Heroism?" Was he trying to gain back her favor for some reason? "That's not what you called it yesterday." She put a finger by her temple. "Let me see, I recall hearing irresponsible, inexperienced, and the threat that you'd have me fired."

  "That was before I heard the whole story." His eyes took on a humorous glint. "And before I knew of your spinsterhood."

  "I cannot believe—" She pushed back her chair and shot up.

  "Whoa there, Delphina."

  "I, Mr. Thomas, am not a horse nor am I a spinster because I am not married. Do not address me in such an insulting manner." Delphina whirled in a swish of her A-line, navy blue skirt and started for the carved pocket door. She'd escape this hooligan's presence until her temper eased and she could forgive. Though that might be a while as he kept transgressing. Lord, your seventy times seven plan seems to be this man's favorite pastime. How am I supposed to work with a constantly croaking toad? A man that attractive should have warts the size of his insults to warn unsuspecting—