Love Finds You in Mackinac Island, Michigan

by Melanie Dobson

  Elena leaned forward, waiting for Papa’s answer. She didn’t want to be intrigued, but she couldn’t help herself.

  “Mr. Darrington was a sordid man who kept picking his teeth and talking so much that the hotel manager had to evict him from the ball.”

  “Papa—”

  “And you should have seen those teeth. They were gigantic.”

  Elena giggled. “I can’t marry a man with big teeth.”

  He tapped the covers, his face as serious as his voice. “Absolutely not.”

  “Oh, Arthur,” her mother sighed. “What was he really like?”

  He moved to a chair, crossing his legs quite leisurely. Apparently he was in no rush to tell his story. “I suppose he was as intelligent as most men. And a friendly sort.”

  Her mother glanced at her. “Was he handsome?”

  “If you like big teeth.” Papa laughed at Mama’s loud groan. “I have no idea what handsome looks like.”

  “Was he tall?” Mama asked.

  “He stood an inch or two above me.”

  “You’re tall, Arthur.”

  Papa puffed out his chest. “Do you consider me handsome as well?”

  Mama rolled her eyes. “What color was his hair?”

  “A brown color, I suppose.”

  “A honey brown or a mousy brown?”

  “Next time I will ask the photographer to take his picture.”

  Elena met her father’s gaze. “Did he smile, Papa?”

  “That he did. And quite often.”

  She was relieved to hear it. She couldn’t stand the thought of marrying a man like Edward Powell, who didn’t smile.

  Mama clapped her hands together. “You must invite Mr. Darrington over for dinner this week.”

  Elena looked at her father, and he patted her hand. “I just might do that.”

  “Right away.”

  “Now, Deborah, we don’t want to rush him.”

  Elena’s gaze wandered to the window. “Can I do something outside today?”

  Mama shook her head. “Mr. Darrington might call.”

  “Perhaps we can take a horse ride this afternoon,” Papa offered.

  “Elena can’t be off riding when Mr. Darrington comes.”

  She sank back against her pillows. “He’s not going to come visit me.”

  “Maybe he will visit your father.”

  That’s just what she needed. A suitor more intrigued with her father than with her.

  She heard the bell ring for their front door.

  Mama hopped out of her chair. “Who do you suppose that is?”

  Elena looked at the clock. It was a quarter after ten. Mr. Darrington wouldn’t be calling. Or, at least, she hoped he wouldn’t be.

  “It’s probably the ice delivery,” Papa offered, but her mother didn’t reply.

  Footsteps traveled down the hallway, and then Jillian stepped into her room. “Miss Elena has an invitation,” she said as she held out the envelope in her hands. “The messenger is waiting for her reply.”

  Her mother rushed to the door, taking the note, and then slid her thumb under the wax seal to open it. After she read the note, she tossed it onto the bed.

  “Parker Randolph has invited you on a carriage ride around the island this morning.”

  Elena watched Jillian’s face, and her friend looked like she was about to cry.

  Elena picked up the invitation and skimmed the words. “He is inviting me along with several others.”

  “You’ll have to tell him you can’t go,” her mother said.

  Her gaze traveled back to the window, to the lake beyond. At least she could get some fresh air today. “Why not?”

  “Because Mr. Darrington might call.”

  She turned her head. “Papa?”

  He cleared his throat. “Actually, your mother is correct.”

  “She is?”

  “Mr. Darrington might call.” He paused. “But last night he told me that he especially enjoys exploring outside the village. With this kind of weather, you might have better luck in seeing him on a carriage ride than staying here.”

  Mama’s eyes sparked. “Are you certain?”

  He nodded. “He might even join Parker’s party today.”

  Mama clapped her hands. “Like he did for the picnic with Gracie Frederick.”

  “That’s a splendid thought, Deborah.”

  Mama pointed toward the envelope. “What time will they leave?”

  Elena glanced at the invitation. “He said he could arrive here at eleven.”

  “We must hurry, then.” Her mother looked toward Jillian. “Tell the messenger that Elena will be ready at eleven fifteen.”

  Jillian nodded, but Elena could still see a trace of sadness in her eyes.

  “Mama,” Elena said slowly, “might Jillian join me this morning?”

  Her mother eyed the maid and then looked back at her. “Jillian is needed here.”

  “With all that happened on the pier,” she started, “I just thought—if something happened to my hair again…,” she said slowly. “Jillian would be there to help me fix it.”

  A gust of wind blew through the window as if to remind them of the dangers.

  Her mother cocked her head, searching Elena’s face for her motive. Elena smiled in return. She just might need Jillian.

  “There might not be room in the carriage,” her mother said.

  “I’m sure Parker would make room. I heard Gracie Frederick always brings her personal maid with her on outings.”

  Her mother considered this news for a moment. “Tell the messenger that Miss Elena and her companion will be joining Mr. Randolph.” She eyed the clock again. “At eleven thirty.”

  Chapter Eleven

  A team of horses pulled their spirited party of eight—including one hired photographer—toward Arch Rock, a limestone bridge that hung a hundred and fifty feet above the water. Except for the photographer, no one else in the party owned a camera, but they all loved to have their pictures taken. On outings like these, often a photographer and his equipment accompanied them.

  The women laughed gaily around Elena as they rode through the forest on the island’s interior roads. She couldn’t understand what the ladies thought was so funny, but she was grateful to be out of the house. Her mother would be disappointed when she returned. Mr. Darrington was not among the party that Parker had gathered for the excursion. She’d been relieved when she realized that Mr. Powell—she would never think of him as Edward again—was not among them either.

  “Did you enjoy the dance last night?” Trudy Grunier asked her.

  She resisted the urge to yawn. “I suppose.”

  “Did you see that atrocious hat on Minnie Falstand?”

  “I can’t say I noticed,” she said, though she couldn’t help but see the extravagant concoction of orange-and-yellow on the young woman’s head.

  Trudy laughed. “She looked like a street lamp.”

  Elena glanced over at Jillian, but her friend wasn’t looking at her. Her eyes were on Parker as he told a story about his visit to Boston. Had she met Parker on the steamer, or had they known each another before? And did Parker feel for Jillian what she apparently felt for him?

  Plenty of wealthy men showed interest in their servants, but not in public settings. That was behind closed doors, after one stepped out of the limelight. She never wanted Jillian to live in a place where a man like Edward Powell might knock on her bedroom door.

  “Do you think the rain will spoil our day?” Trudy asked.

  Elena eyed the clouds piling up above them. She didn’t care much about the day, but she didn’t want it to rain tonight.

  The carriage stopped near the arch, and Parker hopped out to help the ladies down. His grasp, Elena noticed, lasted a bit longer when he was helping Jillian. Perhaps he did care about her.

  “Come along, Elena,” Trudy directed.

  Jillian stayed by the carriage.

  Parker stopped and turned around. “You don
’t want to miss the view of the water, Miss Bernard.”

  Jillian looked at him. “I can’t come.”

  He turned toward Elena. “Lanie, could you please instruct your lovely friend to join the rest of our party?”

  Elena smiled. The feelings were indeed mutual, and she loved Parker for it. Not only had he shown Jillian respect by addressing her as Miss Bernard, but he’d called her Elena’s friend instead of maid.

  “Please come with us.” She waved. “It’s a beautiful sight.”

  Jillian reluctantly stepped forward, eyeing them both for a moment before her gaze turned to the exquisite view in front of them. The stone bridge was arched fifty feet across the cliffs, with the turquoise water sparkling below. Elena couldn’t imagine a single place under the stars as beautiful as this.

  “Everyone get together,” Parker directed, “so we can take a photograph.”

  Elena climbed carefully out onto the rocky bridge with the others. A strong gust of wind could blow them all over the edge, but the wind seemed to have taken a vacation for the moment as well. Parker joked as they lined up on the natural bridge. Jillian didn’t join the rest of them at first, but Elena watched as he coaxed her onto the narrow slip of rocks.

  When they were all in place, the photographer instructed them to hold their breath and silently count to fifteen. After the serious picture for their parents, they took a silly picture with each of them gazing off in a different direction. The others didn’t know it, of course, but Elena posed looking north of the rock, toward her secret place.

  When they finished the last picture, Parker directed them back off the rock. As they descended toward the carriage, she heard something rustle in the trees. Two men emerged onto the grassy area, suspenders strung over their plain shirts and work shoes sticking out from under their trousers. The lankier man held a bundle of poles in his hand, the sides of his handsome face flanked by sideburns. His companion held a wooden box.

  “All right, ladies,” Parker called to them, his voice more urgent, “time to get into the carriage.”

  He held out his hand and helped first Jillian and then Elena into the carriage, but Trudy lingered by the door.

  “There’s no reason to rush,” Trudy said, eyeing the men.

  Parker nudged her elbow toward the carriage. “I, for one, am starting to get hungry.”

  Trudy shooed him with her fan. “You’re not going to starve.”

  Elena glanced over as the men hiked by them, apparently headed to the water below Arch Rock. Neither of them even looked at Trudy, and she seemed quite disconcerted by their inattention. One of them men turned back, and Elena felt a blush climb up her cheeks. It was the soldier from the pier, dressed in plainclothes.

  Parker sighed. “We might just have to leave you, Tru—”

  “Wait a minute.” Elena scrambled over the legs of those already seated.

  “Where are you going?” Parker asked.

  She climbed down the steps, glancing back at Jillian. Her friend looked just as concerned.

  “I’ll be right back,” she said simply and rushed toward the soldiers. Trudy sighed loudly behind her.

  “Just a moment, please!” she called out to the men.

  They turned slowly. The taller one looked at her with appreciation, but his companion’s eyes grew wide as he seemed to recognize her.

  “You were at the pier,” she said. “I thought you were leaving on the steamer.”

  “No, ma’am.” He shook his head. “I was saying good-bye to a friend.”

  “I didn’t get to thank you.” She thought he might be in his early twenties, though it was hard to tell.

  He looked at his toes. “You don’t need to thank me.”

  “If you hadn’t caught me, I would have fallen into the water.”

  He scratched his foot uncomfortably in the dirt.

  “I’m sorry my mother was rude to you. She had no right to be unkind.”

  He met her gaze. “Any good mother would have been scared.”

  Scared?

  She blinked as she slowly processed his words.

  Had her fall frightened her mother? If she had gone over the dock in her heavy skirts, it would have been difficult for even the best swimmer to rescue her. Had Mama been worried about her drowning even more than her fall?

  She looked at the poles in his hand. “What are you carrying?”

  He held it up. “A fishing pole.”

  “It’s in pieces,” she said and then felt silly. Of course he knew it was in pieces.

  Trudy joined her side. “Are you going to try to fish with that?”

  He lifted his chin a notch. “I’ve already fished with it.”

  “But how?” Elena asked.

  He clicked the three poles together to make one long fishing rod.

  “Impressive,” Trudy said.

  The second soldier elbowed his friend. “Lieutenant Hull made it.”

  “Are you coming?” Parker called from the carriage.

  She thanked the lieutenant one last time. If he hadn’t grabbed for her hand on the pier…she didn’t want to think what might have happened.

  * * * * *

  As Chase walked down Main Street, he bought a German sausage wrapped in brown paper and a bottle of Coca-Cola from a street vendor. Sipping the icy drink, he passed by the post office, the opera house, a theatre featuring Edison’s Kinetoscope with the accompaniment of a piano player, and plenty of hotels for those who couldn’t afford to stay at the Grand. The sidewalk was crowded with tourists stopping to get fudge or have their picture taken in the photography studio, and he enjoyed the anonymity of losing himself amongst them.

  His sister was livid this morning, angry at Elena Bissette for trying to seduce her husband last night. For the life of him, Chase couldn’t understand why any woman would want to seduce Edward. If this Miss Bissette was the gold digger Miss Frederick implied, she must think that Edward was wealthy. Or she was trying to charm him into spending the little money he still had on her. At least this Miss Bissette was no longer intent on marrying him.

  Even as Sarah ranted this morning, Chase felt sorry for his sister. He had no doubt that this woman had flirted with Edward, but if Edward wouldn’t encourage these advances, women would stop pursuing him as well.

  He’d left his sister beginning her preparations for the masquerade party at the governor’s mansion tonight. He had no idea where Edward had gone. Chase’s pressing business was done for the day, so he’d walked through the small art gallery at the hotel for a half hour before coming down to the village. The paintings only made him wonder anew about the artist at the lighthouse. He had just a few days left on the island, but he hoped he might meet the woman before he headed to Chicago for his meeting.

  Tonight he would attend the masquerade party with Sarah and Edward. It was one invitation he wouldn’t try to wiggle out of, even if he had to dress in costume. He’d only met Governor Rich once before, but he was impressed with all he’d read about the man’s integrity. At least the governor was trying to recover the state’s economy after the panic last year.

  Chase wandered the village streets, eating his sausage and watching the wagons haul crates and mammoth trunks up to the summer cottages. It intrigued him to see how things operated—in this case the organization of a town that existed primarily for its tourists. He would have liked the place a lot better when they were trading fur or the fisherman were hauling in their catch for the day to sell instead of pandering to the summer guests.

  As he strolled toward the edge of town, he heard a bark. A dog slid under a gate and sprinted toward him. It was the mutt from the races. He looked more brown than white today, with mud splotching his coat alongside the black spots.

  “Hello there,” Chase said as he continued walking.

  The dog followed him.

  Chase waved his hand back at the house. “You’d better go home.”

  When he took another step, the dog stayed at his side, his tongue wagging as he
watched the sausage in Chase’s hands.

  Chase sighed. Everyone—even this dog—wanted something from him.

  He took one last bite of the sausage and then fed the rest to the dog. He thought the dog would run away once the food was gone, but he continued to follow him.

  Chase and the dog rounded the corner of the island, slipping away from the village. Somewhere ahead of him, hidden up in the bluffs, was the lighthouse. With the busyness of the village far behind him, all he could hear was the ripple of water on the shoreline. There were rocks to his right and the tall bluffs on his left. He would turn back in a bit, but he could think clearer out here than he could at the hotel.

  In front of him were two soldiers out on a dock, fishing. Chase wandered up behind the men and stopped to watch.

  “Sit,” he commanded the dog, and the animal obeyed. Together they spent the next fifteen minutes watching the fishermen cast their lines and reel in their catch. When the soldiers finished, they didn’t put the fishing poles over their shoulders. Instead, they pulled their bamboo poles apart into three pieces and bundled them in their hands.

  Mesmerized, Chase stepped forward and spoke to the younger man. “You just—you folded up your fishing rod.”

  “I did.”

  “I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

  The young soldier held up the three pieces of his rod. “It makes it easier to carry.”

  “Did you make that?”

  “It wasn’t hard,” he said with a shrug. “I just put these joints in here and strung the line through the bamboo.”

  Sometimes it was the simplest of ideas that made the most money.

  Chase leaned closer, lowering his voice, though no one was around to hear. “Did you get a patent for it?”

  He shrugged. “Why would I need a patent?”

  A white carriage stopped behind them, and Chase turned to see Edward watching him. The man’s timing couldn’t be much worse.

  He turned back to the soldier. “What is your name?”

  “Silas.” He reached for the string of whitefish with his free hand, and they glistened silver in the sunlight. “Silas Hull.”

  “Could you meet me in the lobby at the Grand Hotel? Tomorrow?”