Love Finds You in Mackinac Island, Michigan (20 page)

She picked up her biscuit and then put it down. Chase said he’d hoped to see her again, but what if she went back and he’d already left the island with a company of soldiers?

As her parents watched her, she lifted her biscuit again and bit into the clumps of fruit spread over the biscuit. She couldn’t entertain the thought that last night was the first and only time she would see this man.

She began to hum, and her mother cleared her throat. “Mr. and Mrs. Darrington are supposed to arrive today on their family’s yacht.”

Elena stopped humming. The arrival of the senior Darringtons no longer concerned her. Since their son was avoiding her, she decided that she would avoid him too.

“Arthur—” Mama began. “When are you going to invite Mr. Darrington over for supper?”

Papa stole a glance at Elena before he looked back at her mother. “Now, Deborah, I don’t see any reason to rush this—”

“No one can accuse us of rushing,” she insisted. “We’ve been here for almost a week now, and neither Elena nor I have met him.”

“Perhaps you should invite his mother over first,” he said. “If you two ladies make a good acquaintance, then surely she will want to introduce you to her son.”

Elena didn’t want to meet the man’s mother, but her own mother seemed to be considering his words. “Perhaps I shall.”

Elena picked up her knife and swirled the jam around on the remaining surface of her biscuit. She didn’t want to think another moment about this Mr. Darrington or his mother, even if Mrs. Darrington was the nicest of women. She wanted to think about a man like Chase—someone who was considerate and strong, interesting without being cocky or absurd.

“Why aren’t you eating?” her mother asked.

She looked up quickly, her mother’s words interrupting her musings. “I’m getting full.”

“But you just said you liked the jam.”

“I do like it.”

Her mother set down her knife. “The flu might be going around the island again, like it did in ’88.”

Elena glanced at her father, and he looked worried. She forced herself to take another bite of the biscuit even though she was no longer hungry. He wouldn’t let her leave the house if he thought she was sick.

All she could think about was going back to the lighthouse, tonight if possible. She would make herself rest this afternoon. No matter how alive she felt in this moment, she would be exhausted by the evening, and she didn’t want to feel the least bit tired tonight.

Mama straightened her silverware on her plate and then picked up her spoon. “I suppose I should wait a day or two before I send Mrs. Darrington an invitation, so she can settle into the hotel.”

Papa nodded his head. “I suppose so.”

“But if I wait too long, Elizabeth Frederick might invite her to their house first.”

“Perhaps you can send her the invitation in the morning.”

She nodded. “An excellent idea. In the meantime, I need to go down to the market and order supplies.”

“Excuse me, sir.” Claude interrupted them. He held out an envelope. “A telegram just arrived for you.”

Papa thanked Claude as he took the telegram, placing it beside his plate. Then he nodded toward Elena. “What would you like to do today, Elena?”

“I think I should sleep.”

“You should come with me,” Mama proposed. “The fresh air will do you some good.”

Elena studied the remains of her poached egg, trying to think clearly. “Maybe you and I should go visit the fort.”

Mama lowered her spoon. “The fort?”

“I heard that some of the women take baked goods up to the soldiers.”

Mama shook her head. “Only women looking for a husband.”

“Then I suppose I qualify.”

“You are in no way looking for a husband,” Mama huffed. “Your father and I are selecting a good man for you.”

Elena put down the biscuit. “Maybe my future husband lives up at the fort?”

Mama’s spoon clattered on her dish. “For heaven’s sake, Elena. Go back to bed.”

Chase waved to his mother from the pier. She was standing on the bow of their yacht, waving wildly to him as they approached Mackinac.

His parents had left for Europe almost four months ago, traveling across the continent for business, but he was certain that his mother had convinced his father to play as well. Lydia Darrington—“the lovely Lydia,” as the papers liked to call her—made sure the Darrington family stopped on occasion to enjoy some of the many blessings God had given them.

“Chase!” she called, her wave widening in case he didn’t see her. He lifted his hand again and tried to hide his grin as he waved back.

Sarah would be mortified at her display, but neither of their parents concerned themselves with society’s norms. He’d never heard anyone comment about his mother’s actions. Most people, he assumed, were too discreet to chastise the Darrington family in public, but they probably whispered behind closed doors about his mother’s lack of societal inhibitions. He was also sure that his mother didn’t care what they thought.

After the boat docked, Chase helped his mother onto the pier and then lifted her from the ground in a big hug. “Welcome home, Mother.”

She kissed his cheek, and then his father—Samson Darrington—climbed off the boat and clapped Chase’s back in greeting. “It’s good to see you, son.”

Lydia glanced over his shoulder. “Where’s your sister?”

“Sarah and Edward are waiting for you at the hotel.”

“Ahh, well—” Her smile slipped, and he hated hearing the disappointment in her voice.

“Sarah wanted to make sure you had a proper welcome when you arrived at the Grand.”

Her warm smile returned again. “That was kind of her.”

“You deserve the royalest of welcomes, Mother. Four months is a long time.”

“Too long,” she concurred.

Chase turned to his father. “Was it a productive trip?”

“Very,” his father said as they walked down the pier. “We have a lot to talk about.”

Chase loved it when his father came back from these trips. He was always brimming with new ideas to replicate in the States.

“We were in Italy for three weeks.” He lowered his voice. “I met a man named Guglielmo Marconi. He’s working on transmitting electrical signals without wire.”

“Without wires?” Chase glanced around him, hoping no one had heard intensity in his voice. Many people had talked about the possibility of wireless communication over the past decade, but he’d never met anyone who thought it really possible. The latest inventions for communication—the telephone and the telegraph—required wires to transmit information.

“I’d like us to consider investing in his work,” his father said as they walked up the pier, toward the bustle of the village.

“Do you think it’s possible to do this?”

“I’m not certain, but Mr. Marconi is convinced that he can do it. And he’s working harder than anyone I’ve met to transmit these signals.”

“Is he in his right mind?”

His father laughed. “He seemed to be.”

Few people had a keener sense for innovation and business than Chase’s father, though he usually invested in people, not products. If he believed in an inventor—even more than the actual invention—he would put his money into it. Rarely did he invest in someone who didn’t eventually turn a profit for them.

“Did this Mr. Marconi make a drawing of what he wants to do?”

His father patted his briefcase. “I’ve got it right here.”

“I will review it with you.”

As the three of them stepped off the pier and onto the sidewalk, a woman bumped into Chase’s shoulder. “Oh, I beg your pardon,” she said.

The woman was a few years past middle age and a few pounds overweight as well. A basket hung over the sleeve of her walking dress, swinging like a pendulum. She studied Chase for a moment and then looked back at his mother. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.”

His mother put out her gloved hand. “My name is Lydia Darrington, and this is my son, Chester, and my husband, Samson Darrington.”

“Oh,” the woman stuttered. She quickly regained her composure, shaking his mother’s hand with enthusiasm. “It is an honor to meet all of you. My name is Bissette. Mrs. Arthur Bissette.”

Bissette?
Chase suppressed his groan. This was the mother of the woman who Mrs. Frederick claimed was trying to marry him. The same woman who had been flirting with Edward.

Mr. Bissette had seemed perfectly normal when they met at the Grand—a pleasant fellow, even—and he’d never once even hinted that Chase might want to meet his daughter. His wife, however, studied him like he was the fox being released for a good chase. Like any hunted animal, he wanted to run.

He stole a glance toward his mother, and in the flash of her green eyes, he could see a mixture of admiration and amusement at the woman’s boldness. The lovely Lydia never thought herself any higher than another person. Instead it seemed to entertain her when others coddled and esteemed her as an influential society woman.

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” his mother said as she released the woman’s hand. “Your name sounds familiar to me.”

Mrs. Bissette nodded. “My family spends every summer on this island.”

“This is our first summer here.” His mother gazed at the village and then looked up at the hills. “But it seems like such a lovely place.”

“We winter in Chicago.”

“How lovely. My sister lives in Chicago.”

Mrs. Bissette shifted her basket onto her other arm. “What is her name?”

“Lottie Ingram.”

“Oh, I know your sister,” Mrs. Bissette said with a light clap. “She and I are on the mayor’s gardening committee together.”

Chase opened the door on the waiting carriage, and his father climbed inside. He wished he were as courteous as his mother at times, but his graciousness ceased at the mention of gardening committees.

He nudged his mother ahead. “It’s a pleasure meeting you, Mrs. Bissette, but my parents have had a long journey. I must get them to the hotel.”

“Certainly.” Mrs. Bissette stepped alongside his mother as she moved toward the carriage. “It would be my pleasure to have you lunch at our cottage while you’re on the island.”

“I would love to come and visit, but at the moment, I’m not sure about my availability.”

Chase took his mother’s hand and helped her into the enclosed carriage.

“Perhaps tea would be better?” Mrs. Bissette asked.

His mother straightened her skirts, still smiling at the woman on the sidewalk. “I would love to stop by for tea.”

Mrs. Bissette smiled at him now. “Perhaps you could join us as well, Mr. Darrington.”

“I’m certain that it would be an entertaining experience, but I am preparing to leave for Chicago soon.”

Her eyebrows rose in worry. “Will you be returning?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

His mother took his arm as he climbed in beside her. “We certainly hope so.”

Mrs. Bissette eyed him and then looked at Chase’s mother. “I will send an invitation to the Grand this afternoon.”

The carriage moved forward. “I’ll look forward to receiving it.”

Mrs. Bissette waved her hand as the carriage rode away.

Chase put his hat on his lap. “You don’t have to go to tea, Mother.”

“Of course I don’t have to, but why wouldn’t I? She seems perfectly delightful, and I want to hear about Lottie.”

He turned his hat. “I believe she already knew that Aunt Lottie is your sister.”

“Perhaps,” his mother said as she arranged her ruffled skirt again. “But she might have been embarrassed to tell me.”

Chase thought for a moment about telling her that the woman and her daughter were conniving to become part of the Darrington family, but his mother would reprimand him for listening to gossip. He wasn’t one who usually concerned himself with gossip either, but judging by the actions of the mother, he wondered if the Fredericks were right.

He opted for a more general approach.

“I’m told the Bissette family has a daughter they are looking to marry off.”

His mother reached for his hand. “Perhaps you should join us for tea, then.”

He laughed. “No, thank you.”

His mother sighed as she released his hand. She no longer haggled him about marriage, but he knew she was as anxious to have him married as Sarah was. She never suggested specific women for him to marry like Sarah did, but she often implied that she wanted to be a grandmother.

“When do the festivities begin for Independence Day?”

“On Wednesday.”

His mother clapped. “It will be spectacular, I’m sure.”

He smiled. His mother was really a girl in a woman’s body. She loved dancing and playing games and listening to music for hours.

“They have a new sport at the hotel you might like,” he said. “Something called lawn tennis.”

She clapped her hands again. “I shall have to try it.”

Across from them, his father opened his briefcase and riffled through the stack of paperwork.

While he appreciated his mother’s zest for life, Chase admired his father for his good business sense. Like his father, he wanted to be married to a woman he could trust, a woman who delighted in life alongside him. When he married, he wanted to be more deliberate about breaking from his work to share the frivolities of life with his wife.