To Honor and Trust

by Tracie Peterson

  “I don’t mean to sound disrespectful, Father, but I truly do not understand how my golf attire could adversely influence any possible business investors. You should advise those men that I’m not involved in the business. That should set their minds at ease.”

  “Quite the contrary.” His father sighed. “If I attempt to explain a son who is uncertain about whether or not he wants to enter the family business, it will only give rise to further concern. As for explaining your past—well, that would be entirely another story.”

  “You can state the truth in a simple manner. Tell them I have given up the practice of medicine and am using the winter months to make some decisions about my future. They may then draw their own conclusions.” Wes sat down in a chair opposite his father.

  “I don’t think you understand the gravity of this matter, Wesley. If I don’t find several investors, it could create deep financial concerns for the family. We do need to impress them. And let’s not forget that telling investors that I have a son who chose to become a doctor will not impress them. The fact that you’ve left the profession will hold more sway with those men.”

  “I’m sure they share your ideas on the medical profession, Father. And I heard enough about that when I went off to school. I think we’ll have to agree to disagree on the subject. While doctors don’t make much money, they do reap the benefit of helping others.” Wes leaned forward and rested his arms on his knees. “It grieves me to know that you’ve taken such a financial risk, Father, and I do want you to find the investors you need, but—”

  “But it doesn’t grieve you enough to do your part and join me in the business. These men want a definitive plan regarding operations, and I can’t give them one at this point because my son won’t make a decision to manage the new mill.”

  Wesley didn’t want to argue with his father, but he simply couldn’t give him the answer he wanted to hear. Not yet.

  His father sighed. “Would you at least get out of those golfing togs and attend some meetings with me over the next few days?”

  “I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Father. I won’t have time for meetings.”

  His father’s deep frown returned. “And why is that?”

  “I’ve accepted the position as golf pro for the season.”

  His father jumped to his feet as though he’d been jabbed with a hot poker. “You must be joking. I’ll not have any son of mine working as a hired hand at a resort. I don’t need additional embarrassment.”

  His father’s words reopened wounds that had barely begun to heal. He’d heard that same accusation when he’d departed for medical school and later when he’d returned from Texas. Why must his father believe that Wesley’s every decision was made to humiliate the family?

  “Please sit down, Father.” He waited until the older man reclaimed his chair. “I accepted the position as golf pro because the vacancy was creating a problem for the resort and because I was qualified. Besides, I knew it would help to fill my days with something I enjoy.”

  His father tugged on his vest. “It is beyond unseemly that my son is among the hired help on this island. I insist you quit immediately.”

  “I won’t quit, Father, but if it eases your feelings about it, I’m not being paid. I volunteered to take the position because it would help the club. Perhaps your business friends would be more accepting if they knew your son was merely stepping in to help the resort maintain the level of sporting instruction they’ve come to expect at Bridal Veil. Without a golf pro, there would be no instructor to help golfers improve their game, and it would mean the annual tournament would not be recognized.” Wesley leaned a bit closer. “I’m certain some of those business acquaintances of yours play golf.”

  His father shrugged. “I really don’t know. Some of them hunt, but—”

  “More and more wealthy men have begun to golf, Father. I’m sure Mr. Nusbaum could confirm that fact. And from personal knowledge, I can tell you that there is a great deal of business conducted on the links nowadays.” Wesley leaned back in his chair. “You might even want to consider taking up the game, Father.”

  “Richard says the racetrack is where he makes his contacts, you say the golf course, and Daniel thinks it’s the hunting lodge. I still prefer doing business after dinner with a glass of brandy and a good cigar.”

  Wes glanced at the clock. He didn’t want to be late to the golf course, yet his father didn’t seem to be in any rush to leave. Instead, he leaned back and appeared as though he might be settling in for a lengthy stay.

  “I told your mother I was not leaving this room until we had matters settled, and I intend to keep my word. So you might as well quit looking at the clock.”

  “Exactly what matters, Father? I need to be at the links in less than an hour.”

  “Then we’ll have a message delivered that you’ll be late. Unless we’re able to quickly come to a meeting of the minds. Since you pretend to be unclear about what I plan to accomplish, let me make it very clear. First, before we leave this island, I want your word that if you have not decided upon some other future plans where you will earn a living, you will come to work for the textile business.”

  “I don’t—”

  “Let me finish, and then you can have your say. Second, you need to be making a concentrated effort to find a suitable wife. If you don’t want to go through the selection process on your own, I know your mother is eager to help. We would, of course, like the young woman to be someone who would be, shall we say, an advantageous choice for the family.”

  Wesley bit his tongue, but if his father continued down this path, he would soon interrupt. In fact, he might walk out of the room.

  “I don’t find this third point as pressing, but your mother would be most appreciative if you would at least make an appearance at some of the social functions.” He cleared his throat. “And if you are to find a wife, there is no better place than Bridal Veil. Your mother and I have met any number of eligible young ladies who clearly meet our requirements.”

  Wesley choked. “Your requirements? And were these same requirements placed upon my brothers and sister? Was Richard Kennebec your first choice for Helena? If I recall, Mother was aghast when Charles declared he planned to marry Anna. Didn’t Mother weep for days over his choice, saying her family didn’t meet proper social standards for a Townsend?” He arched his brows. “Yet those marriages both took place without interference by you or Mother.”

  “That’s true enough, but there was no choice with Charles. You’re well aware they secretly married and didn’t tell us until months had passed. I still disdain what he did, but the past is past. And it is true Richard has developed a bit of a gambling problem, but he makes excellent contacts, and I believe he’s devoted to Helena.”

  From what Wesley had heard and seen, Richard was far more devoted to racehorses than to his family or the textile business, but his father wasn’t interested in discussing his siblings or brother-in-law.

  “I have been giving my future plans a great deal of prayer as well as a great deal of thought. I have some ideas, but I am waiting to see what God might reveal to me over these next few months.”

  His father arched a brow. “Perhaps if you’d confide some details about the possibilities you’re considering, it would help me understand.”

  Wes knew it wouldn’t help, but if he was going to get to the golf course, he had little choice. “I’m considering the possibility of using my medical degree in the research field. You know I’ve always loved botany, and while in New York I helped in the laboratory on a limited basis. I found the work fascinating, I could use my education, and I wouldn’t have to deal directly with patients. My other thought would be to use my love of botany to find work doing some sort of advanced landscape architecture. I’ve checked into it, and more professionals are needed.” He leaned back. “Or there’s always golf.” He hoped his father had heard the lighthearted tone in his final words.

  His father swiped his palm across his
forehead. “I’d like you to add work at the textile mills to that list of considerations, Wesley. You should remember that God helps those who help themselves, and it’s time you started helping yourself.” His father stared into the distance for a moment. “If you’ll give me your word that you’ll have a definite plan by the time we leave here, I won’t interfere with the golf situation you’ve arranged for yourself. Properly explained, I think guests will agree that the donation of both your time and ability is quite generous.”

  “I don’t want to be badgered into finding a wife. I will not agree to have you and Mother seeking out women that please you. I know where that will lead.” Wes disliked agreeing to any part of his father’s ultimatum, but this conversation would never end unless he made some concessions.

  “Hopefully it would lead you down the aisle.”

  “Down the aisle with a daughter of some investor you hope to finagle into signing on with the mills.”

  “It’s as easy to fall in love with the daughter of an investor as it is to fall in love with the daughter of a poor man.”

  “I’ve said that I’m hopeful I’ll have a decision about my future by winter’s end, but we both know I’m not suited for a position with the family business. Once I have made my decision, I’ll let you and Mother know.” He paused and inhaled. “As time permits, I will attend a few of the social functions to please Mother. I do not want either of you making arrangements for me to escort anyone to the events. If you do, you’ll be sorely disappointed, and quite embarrassed. I know you don’t want that.”

  His father stood and brushed imaginary lint from his lapel. “I cannot say I am pleased by the outcome of this conversation, Wesley.”

  “Neither am I, Father. However, I think I’ve heard it said that when neither party is happy over the outcome, it has been a rather fair negotiation. And since we are discussing my future, I’m sure you didn’t expect me to submit to your every request.”

  For the first time, his father smiled. “You wouldn’t be a Townsend if you did.”

  At the moment, Wes would have preferred to have been anyone but a Townsend. In fact, he envied men like his old school chum Andrew Hart. Men who had come from nothing and had made their own way in the world. Andrew’s family had been proud to have a son who’d become a doctor. A brief visit in Andrew’s home several years ago had revealed a great deal to Wesley. Andrew’s family cared little about the material things of life. They found pleasure in helping others and living their beliefs. It was on his visit to Andrew’s home that Wes had drawn closer to the Lord. After seeing the way they lived and observing their faith, he wanted the same thing for himself. They were a family who lived with peace and contentment—something he’d never observed within his own family.

  “You need only ask,” Andrew’s father had told him. “God is willing to pour out His blessings and show you the way to a happier life if you but ask.”

  Wesley had asked God to give him all of those things. In truth, he couldn’t say he’d found the same peace and contentment, but he continued to ask and search and pray that God would show him what he was to do with his life. Now he must pray God would answer on the timetable issued by Howard Townsend. He chuckled at the thought and wondered if God was laughing, as well.

  Chapter 15

  As the days passed into February, Callie’s ankle healed, and though she and the children had not yet returned to the turtle nesting area, they had completed the necessities to perform their first puppet show. Callie and the girls had written the play, and all of them had worked hard on making the puppets and the scenery for the stage that Thomas had constructed, with a bit of help from one of the gardeners. All three of the children were delighted and filled with a sense of pride as they practiced and received applause from Callie, Lula, Maude, and other servants or workers who happened to be around during their rehearsals.

  Callie consistently bolstered the children with enthusiasm and praise, and her approach had proved valuable. The children remained excited about the project and had worked together admirably. Now that they were well prepared, she hoped to reward their hard work with a proper audience. However, the recreational director at the clubhouse had been less than enthusiastic about having the children perform there.

  Callie understood the director’s decision. After the professional troupe’s performance last month, an amateur production might not hold the other children’s interest. But Callie remained determined to find a receptive audience for the puppet show.

  A tap sounded on the door as the children were completing their schoolwork. Callie straightened from helping Thomas with a math problem as Mrs. Bridgeport stepped inside. She, Maude, Lula, and Jane had been downstairs preparing for an afternoon card party and tea.

  “You should finish quickly, Callie. I want you to attend the tea. We’ll need you to make a fourth at one of the tables. I’ve told Maude she’s to escort the children down to the beach.”

  Callie pressed her hand down the front of her skirt. “I’m not dressed to attend the party. Why don’t I take the children? I’m sure Maude is tired from helping prepare. Surely you can find someone else to sit in as a fourth.”

  “I’m afraid not. When I extended invitations to Blanche Townsend and Helena Kennebec, I also invited Melody Townsend. However, I received word she’s already returned home.” Mrs. Bridgeport smiled at Callie. “Besides, you enjoy the ladies, don’t you?”

  Callie didn’t enjoy the idle gossip and would have preferred the children’s company, but she knew such an answer wouldn’t please Mrs. Bridgeport. While she loved both Mr. and Mrs. Bridgeport, she didn’t like the pretentious attitudes she encountered with their friends—at least with most of them.

  “Look, Mama.” After shoving one of the puppets over her hand, Daisy jumped up from her chair and skipped across the room. “This is the princess puppet. Her name is Princess Daisy. Isn’t she beautiful?”

  “Yes, dear. She’s very pretty. And I’m sure she has a handsome prince who plans to marry her.”

  “She does, but lots of stuff happens before he can marry her. Want to see our play?”

  Mrs. Bridgeport stooped down in front of her daughter. “I would like to, Daisy, but I have guests coming this afternoon.”

  “We could show it to them, too.” The child looked up at Callie. “Couldn’t we, Miss Callie?” Daisy’s face shone with expectation and delight.

  “Why, that’s a wonderful idea, Daisy. You could perform your puppet show at your mother’s tea party. I’m sure the ladies would be charmed. What do you think, Mrs. Bridgeport? The play takes only fifteen minutes. The ladies could watch while they enjoy their tea before the first round of cards.”

  “Well, I don’t know. We’ve never before done anything like this. They may find it . . . odd.”

  Callie could sense the older woman’s hesitation. She worried far too much about what other people might think. Her children were staring at her with excited anticipation. Instead of concerning herself with what her guests might think, Mrs. Bridgeport needed to concentrate on her children and what they needed.

  “I believe they would find it a delightful change. Who knows? You may set a new precedent. All of the other women might attempt to outdo you once they see the delightful presentation by the children.”

  Callie gave a sideways glance toward the children. She hoped the subtle gesture would remind Mrs. Bridgeport her children were listening. “Thomas and I can go downstairs now and set up the stage.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about a stage. It might interfere with the tables and seating arrangements. Lula and Jane need to serve the ladies without having to move around something as large as a stage.”

  Thomas shook his head and pointed across the room. “It’s not so big. And we can put it in a corner where it won’t get in the way. You and Miss Callie can pick out a spot, and I’ll set it up without any help.” He hesitated. “Well, I might need some help getting it down the stairs.”

  Mrs. Bridgeport appeared more r
esigned than enthused, but she gave a slight nod. “Don’t move anything until Callie and I go downstairs and check the space. I’m not giving a definite yes until we see how much room is left.”

  The children whooped and hollered as though their mother had uttered a resounding yes. And in their minds, that’s what her simple nod meant to them. They hadn’t heard a word she’d said about available space. So if Callie had to completely rearrange the room, she was determined to locate adequate space for the puppet show.

  After making a few alterations to the arrangement of the tables, she helped Thomas carry the stage downstairs and, along with the girls, arranged the puppets in proper order behind the structure.

  “You must go upstairs and be very quiet until time for your presentation.” Callie tucked a strand of Lottie’s hair behind her ear. “I’ll come upstairs to get you, but if you make a lot of noise before then, your mother may change her mind and send you off with Maude.”

  Thomas agreed to take charge, and all three of the children promised they would be quiet. Callie arranged paper, pencils, and crayons on the table to keep them busy before she hurried to her room and changed into a white dress of fine lawn. After quickly arranging her hair, she hurried down the hallway. The guests had already begun to arrive when she descended the staircase.

  “Would you show the ladies to their proper seats while I continue to greet here at the door, Callie?”

  She’d attended enough social activities on the island that the ladies accepted her as one of them—at least they’d accepted the fact that Mrs. Bridgeport would bring her along whether they approved or not. None of the other women ever brought tutors or maids with them, and Callie’s sense of discomfort never diminished while among the women. Truth be told, the more Callie was around them, the more she understood why her mother had written that she had no desire to return to the life of a society matron.