A Vote of Confidence (10 page)

“ ’Course, I can’t say I know Carter or his wife well myself. We don’t exactly move in the same social circles.” She laughed.

Morgan felt the tension leave his shoulders. “I didn’t know he was married.”

“Yeah. His wife’s about my age, I think. Pretty. Real quiet thing. She and their two children go to mass at the Catholic church.
I wouldn’t swear to it, but I don’t think Carter ever darkens a church door, Catholic or otherwise, except for weddings and
funerals. Maybe that’s why I don’t cotton to him much.”

Morgan didn’t cotton to Harrison either, particularly now that he was showing so much interest in the election.

The supper party was only a few hours away, and Gwen still couldn’t decide whether to wear the rose-pink dress or the lemon-yellow
one. She liked them both.

“Oh, Cleo. Hurry up.” She checked the clock on her dresser. “You were supposed to be here by now.”

A voice called to her from the front of the house. “Halloo.”

Oh, mercy. It was her nosy next-door neighbor, Edna Updike. The worst gossip in town. Such a difficult woman, and one who
could talk for hours without seeming to draw a breath. Gwen didn’t have time to deal with her now. She shouldn’t have left
her door open, despite wanting to let in the fresh air.

“Miss Arlington. Are you there? Halloo.”

Patience. Give me patience.
She took a quick breath, put a smile on her face, and left the bedroom.

Edna had her forehead pressed against the screen as she peered into the house. When she saw Gwen, she said, “Oh, good. You
are at home. I was hoping to speak to you.”

“How are you, Mrs. Updike?”

“My rheumatism’s been acting up lately, but I’m well enough for a woman my age.”

Gwen waited for her neighbor to take two steps back, then pushed on the frame of the screen door to open it. “Won’t you come
in?”

“Thank you.” She breezed past Gwen. “It really is fine weather we’re enjoying, isn’t it? I was telling Mr. Updike this morning
that I don’t remember a prettier May in all the years we’ve lived in Bethlehem Springs. Of course, you haven’t lived here
near as long as we have, but don’t you think this is the finest May ever?”

“Indeed.”

Edna plopped her plump form onto the sofa. “Did you know our Lady had her pups this week? Five of them. That’s a large litter
for a small dog. I thought at first the littlest wouldn’t survive, but she seems to have enough milk now and they’re all thriving,
including the runt.” She looked around the parlor. “This really is the most pleasant room, Miss Arlington. You have quite
the flair for decorating. So appealing.”

“Thank you.” Gwen sank onto a chair. “What is it you wished to speak to me about?”

“Why, the newspaper, of course. What else?”

“Oh.” She resisted the urge to sigh.

“You surely are not serious about this election nonsense, Miss Arlington. Goodness, dear child. Being mayor is not a proper
vocation for a woman, especially not a young, unmarried one such as yourself. Surely your father did not know you intended
to do this or he would have forbidden you to consider it.”

“Yes, Mrs. Updike. My father did know. As a matter of fact, he encouraged me.”

Edna clucked her tongue. “I declare. And what of your minister? He has undoubtedly advised you to withdraw.”

“No.” Gwen shook her head. “He has not.”

“Then Reverend Rawlings has forgotten his duty as a man of the cloth. He should remind you that women are never to have authority
over men. The Bible says so. Women are not equipped to assume leadership roles. We are the weaker vessels, after all.”

Gwen quelled her irritation. Her neighbor was in her late sixties, set in her ways, and unlikely to change her mind about
anything. “Mrs. Updike, I know you mean well. Truly, I do. I appreciate your concern. But the Bible has several examples of
women who held authority. What about Miriam, the sister of Moses, and also Deborah, who was a judge? Isn’t a judge a little
like a mayor?” She smiled to soften her words.

“That’s the Old Testament,” Edna responded, accenting the words with a
harrumph
at the end. “Christians live under the new covenant.”

“Then what about Priscilla and Phoebe? They were leaders in the early church. I believe when women are called the ‘weaker
vessel,’ it means our physical strength, not that we are inferior.” She leaned forward. “It isn’t my wish to be argumentative,
Mrs. Updike, but I was taught we must never use one verse of Scripture out of context from the whole.”

Edna gave her a cool stare. “Miss Arlington, you are more like your sister than I suspected.” She stood. “You shall regret
this. Mark my words. It will be your ruination. No man of good standing will look upon you with favor.” She wagged her finger
at Gwen. “Your Mr. Benson will soon look elsewhere for a bride if you persist in your current way.”

“Since he is not
my
Mr. Benson, he is free to look wherever he wishes. I do not intend to marry. Not him or any other man. I don’t intend to
surrender the freedoms I enjoy as a single woman. Too many men in this world want a servant, not an equal partner. They don’t
want someone who can walk beside them rather than behind.” Gwen’s temper grew hotter with each word. “And I’m delighted to
know that you think I’m like Cleo. There’s no one I admire more than my sister.”

From the parlor doorway came Cleo’s hoot of laughter. “Now there’s something I don’t hear every day.”

Edna sputtered something about tending to the puppies and hurried out without a word of good-bye to Gwen or a word of greeting
to Cleo. Rather than rise and follow her neighbor, Gwen covered her face with her hands and released a groan.

Wry amusement laced Cleo’s voice. “I take it Mrs. Updike isn’t thrilled about you running for mayor.”

“I’m doomed to spinsterhood because of it.” Gwen lowered her hands. “And possibly risking my salvation.”

Cleo snorted. “Gwennie, given you’re a Presbyterian and of the Calvinist persuasion, you can’t possibly believe that.”

Despite herself, Gwen smiled. Cleo had an uncanny way of knowing just what to say to make her feel better.

“Now, what’re you doing just sitting there? Don’t you have a party to get ready for and an election to win?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Then let’s get to it, sis. Times a wastin’.”

Cleo urged Gwen toward her bedroom much as she would herd cows into a corral. Once Gwen was seated at her dressing table,
Cleo plucked the pins from her hair until it cascaded down her back. “Guess who I rode into town with.” She began stroking
Gwen’s hair with the brush. “Morgan McKinley.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. He’s had a hard time believing we’re twins, just like most folks do.”

Gwen met her sister’s gaze in the mirror, wondering what else he’d said to her.

“Before we parted company, he asked if I was going to the Carter shindig with you.” Cleo grunted. “As if you could drag me
to something like that.”

“All you would need is a new evening frock and — ”

“Gwennie, haven’t you learned by this time that you can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear?”

Gwen grabbed her sister by the hand and twisted on the dressing stool to look at her. “Don’t say such things about yourself.
You are
not
a sow’s ear.”

“Maybe not.” Cleo smiled gently. “But I don’t belong with the Carters and their like either. It’s not just that I don’t belong.
I don’t
want
to belong. I like who I am.”

Gwen sighed. “I envy you, Cleo. You’re so sure of who you are and what you want to do. I wish I was more like you.”

“Poppycock. You’re already who you want to be. I just heard you saying so to Mrs. Updike. You’re just nervous about tonight.
That’s all.”

Cleo took Gwen by the shoulders and turned her to face the mirror again. “Now let’s get your hair fixed or you’ll never get
to that party on time.”

Gwen knew everyone seated around the long table in Harrison and Susannah Carter’s dining room — the
Daily Herald’s
Nathan Patterson and his wife, Christina; Samuel Benson, owner of the Pine Company sawmill, his wife, Flora, and their son,
Charles, who was seated to Gwen’s right; Jedidiah Winston, the Crow County sheriff, and his unmarried daughter, Rose; Mike
O’Rourke of the Golden Gorge Mining Company; Reverend Walter Rawlings; Mayor Thaddeus Hopkins; and the four other county commissioners
along with their wives. All sixteen present were dressed to the nines.

As the party dined on rainbow trout, roasted potatoes, creamed vegetables, and a chocolate confection for dessert, a three-piece
orchestra — violin, cello, and harp — played softly in a nearby room. Overhead, a chandelier glittered, its glory reflected in the gold-rimmed china and fine crystal goblets. Black-and-white
uniformed servants saw to the guests’ every need.

Charles leaned near to Gwen. “You are a surprising woman, Miss Arlington. I had no idea you had political aspirations.”

“I surprised myself in that regard, Mr. Benson.”

“Please allow me to assist you in any way I can.” He spoke in a husky voice, implying some sort of intimacy between them.

Why must he do that?
It was actions such as this one that had made her neighbor refer to Charles as “your Mr. Benson.”

She lifted her water goblet and took a sip before answering him. “That’s very kind of you. Of course, there isn’t much to
do, other than convince voters I’m the right candidate, and that is something I must do myself.” She gave him a smile, hoping
it looked genuine. “Isn’t it?” Without waiting for Charles’s response, Gwen turned to her left and said to her host, “Thank
you again for doing this, Mr. Carter.”

“I’m pleased to do so. Tattersall isn’t qualified, and since I’m quite unhappy with that resort McKinley is building, I couldn’t
very well support him.”

She hadn’t known Harrison opposed the resort. “Why is that, Mr. Carter?”

“I don’t believe it will be good for Bethlehem Springs.”

She recalled Morgan’s response to a similar question. His answer had made sense to her — employment for many in the area and
an influx of tourist trade for the businesses in town. Didn’t everyone see the benefits of those things, even if they thought
a resort would ultimately fail?

Before she could voice her thoughts, Harrison stood and tapped a knife against his water goblet.
Ting… ting… ting… ting…
The room fell silent and all eyes turned toward the host.

“I would like to thank you all once again for coming tonight.” He looked at each person as he spoke. “As you know, we have
three candidates for the office of mayor of Bethlehem Springs. As you must also know by now, I have given my support to Miss
Gwen Arlington.” He applauded as he looked at Gwen. Everyone else followed suit. “I certainly hope you will join me, for the
sake of our fair town, in seeing that she is elected.”

With darkness blanketing Bethlehem Springs, Morgan leaned his shoulder against an awning post on the side porch and stared
at Harrison Carter’s mansion, located on an opposing hillside. Lights glowed from every window of the house, and music could
be heard, even from a half mile away.

Morgan wondered if the guest of honor was enjoying herself. One thing was certain: she wouldn’t be among strangers. Bethlehem
Springs was not a large town. Most who lived here could call their neighbors’ children by name and would have a fair idea
of the personal business and romantic involvements of those they saw on the street. Townsfolk who didn’t have small businesses
of their own — dress shop, haberdashery, mercantile, shoe store, bank, feed store, law office, restaurants — worked at the
sawmill to the south of town or in the sole remaining mine to the west. Even those who lived in the county on cattle ranches
and small farms were well known because this was where they purchased supplies and went to church.

All of which meant Gwen was among friends. They would support her because she was one of them already.

Morgan pushed off the post, turned, and walked inside. Unlike the Carter mansion, few lights burned within these walls. Silence
engulfed him.