A Vote of Confidence (11 page)

Too silent. Too empty. Maybe he should invite his little sister to come stay with him again. Not that he thought Daphne would
accept. She was having far too much fun traveling with their distant cousin.

It bothered him that Gwen had Harrison Carter’s endorsement. He couldn’t shake the feeling that the commissioner wasn’t all
he tried to appear. Maybe Morgan was wrong, but his instincts were usually good ones.

As for Miss Arlington? He’d believed at first she was a beautiful woman who thought rather highly of herself. He’d had to
readjust his opinion after reading her campaign piece in the paper. In fact, earlier in the week he’d perused the newspaper
archives to better acquaint himself with matters of interest in the town. In doing so, he’d read quite a number of Gwen’s
columns. On paper, at least, she came across as intelligent, thoughtful, and caring.

But still beautiful. Still very beautiful.

He pictured Yvette Dutetre as he’d seen her during the days of their courtship and engagement. Tall and willowy, with amber
eyes, light-brown hair, milk-white skin, and a flawless beauty that caused men to stop and stare, mouths gone dry. Morgan
knew their response because he’d been just like them. Strolling with Yvette along the streets of Paris or entering a glittering
ballroom with his fiancée on his arm had made him proud because he’d won her affections.

But what he hadn’t seen — what he’d missed completely during their courtship and the months of their engagement — was that
her beauty was only skin deep. While he’d been falling in love, she’d been plotting how to spend his family fortune while
taking another man into her bed. Discovering the truth — just one week before their lavish wedding was set to take place —
had been a rude awakening.

The memory of his narrow escape still gave him chills.

He’d stayed free of romantic entanglements since leaving Paris five years ago. His mother’s worsening illness and their frequent
travels had aided him in his determination not to fall victim to another pretty face. But his mother was gone, and he was
putting down roots in Bethlehem Springs. He had best be on his guard. Now was not the time to let a woman — any woman — invade
his thoughts.

Especially not the woman who might stand in the way of the successful completion of his resort.

Sheriff Winston leaned a shoulder against the fireplace mantel. “If you ask me, Governor Alexander is asking for trouble,
pushing to make Idaho a dry state. We’ll need more officers all around the state if we’re expected to enforce it.”

“So you don’t support the prohibition of alcohol?” Gwen asked.

“Sumptuary laws can be slippery things, Miss Arlington.”

“But isn’t public drunkenness a problem in many cities? And even here in our own small town?” Although neither of them mentioned
Hiram Tattersall, Gwen felt certain the sheriff knew who was in her thoughts when she asked her question.

“Yes, we’ve had a few problems with it, but I’m still not convinced that the passage of Prohibition is the answer. I guess
we’ll find out soon enough. The governor is a determined man, and I think we’ll see the law pass before year’s end.” He took
a sip of sherry from the glass he held in his hand. “And what about you, Miss Arlington? Where do you stand on the issue?”

Before Gwen could answer, Harrison Carter stepped to her side. “I’m sure that when she is mayor, Miss Arlington will seek
counsel from those more experienced in such matters.” He looked at her. “It isn’t necessary for you to have an opinion of
your own on everything.”

Gwen swallowed the retort that sprang to her lips, determined not to be rude to her host. But it was aggravating that he hadn’t
given her a chance to respond to Sheriff Winston. She
did
have an opinion about Prohibition. No doubt, she would have an opinion about anything and everything concerning town government
once she was mayor. And she wouldn’t be shy about sharing those opinions either.

Susannah Carter joined the threesome by the fireplace. Slipping her hand into the crook of her husband’s arm, she leaned close
to him. “Harrison,” she said softly, “some of our guests are leaving.”

Relief swept through Gwen. At last she could depart without insulting anyone. She looked at the mantel clock. “My goodness.
I didn’t know it was so late. It’s almost midnight. I must go as well.”

She followed her host and hostess to the front door and said good-bye to the other guests as they stepped into the night.
Finally, only she and Charles Benson — who had insisted on accompanying her home in her buggy — remained.

After putting on her wrap, she turned toward Harrison and Susannah. “Thank you again for the lovely evening.”

“It was our pleasure,” Susannah replied.

“Indeed,” Harrison said. “We want to do whatever it takes to make certain you are victorious.”

“I’m grateful for your support.” Then, although she hadn’t realized it was even in the back of her mind, she said, “I hope
we can talk soon about why you feel Mr. McKinley’s resort won’t be beneficial to Bethlehem Springs.”

“Miss Arlington” — Harrison gave her a patient smile; it felt as if he was about to pat her on the head, like a good little
girl — “I believe that’s something else we can discuss after you’re elected. Once you and I are working together to manage
our town and county governments, I will be only too glad to help steer you through such matters. Certainly you needn’t be
concerned with it now.” He turned toward Charles. “Thank you for offering to see our guest of honor home. It’s good of you
to do so.”

Charles stepped to Gwen’s side and placed the palm of his right hand under her left elbow. “It’s my pleasure, sir.”

Gwen felt as if she’d been brushed aside like a bothersome fly. Besides, she didn’t want Harrison to steer her anywhere. She’d
only wanted to know why he opposed the resort. It was a simple enough question, one that deserved an answer.

Charles said, “Are you ready, Miss Arlington?”

Somewhat reluctantly, she looked at her self-appointed escort. “Yes. I’m ready.”

“Good night, Miss Arlington,” Harrison said. “We’ll talk again soon.”

Charles escorted Gwen to her buggy and helped her onto the seat. As he walked around the rear of the buggy, Gwen turned her
gaze toward the gentle, rolling hills on the north side of town. Up there, in the shadows of the night, was Morgan McKinley’s
home.

She wondered what his opinion on Prohibition was — and if others would listen when he chose to share it.

Gwen awakened the next day feeling frustrated and irritated, and no matter what she tried — Bible reading, prayer, a firm
mental talking-to, scrubbing the kitchen with more vigor than was normal — she couldn’t seem to shake the feeling.

As her final student, Owen Goldsmith, flew through his scales and chords on Saturday afternoon, Gwen’s thoughts returned to
the previous evening at the Carter home. She still felt out of sorts over Harrison’s unwillingness to answer her question
about the McKinley resort. Had he meant to brush her aside or had she simply asked at an inopportune moment? Perhaps she was
being overly sensitive. One of her worst faults was to bristle when she felt ignored by reason of her gender. However, she
had earned that fault through experience. Too many men of her acquaintance thought she — and all females — should think of
nothing but how to manage a home and raise children. Ridiculous! Did they believe God gave her a mind but didn’t want her
to use it?

“How was that, Miss Arlington?” Owen asked, drawing her attention back to the present.

“Very well done. You’ve been practicing, haven’t you?”

“Yes’m. Ma says I’ve gotta play a lot if I wanna be good.”

Gwen nodded. “Your mother is right.” She flipped through a stack of sheet music. “I believe you’re ready for something a bit more challenging. Here’s a short piece by Frederick Chopin. Let’s give it a try.”

The first time through was slow and choppy. The second time through sounded much better. By next Saturday, the boy would have
it memorized. He was such a gifted student. One day in the not too distant future, he would surpass her ability to instruct
him on the piano. It was no stretch to believe that if he received a proper education, if he stayed in school through all
twelve grades, his talent would take him far beyond the borders of Bethlehem Springs.

With the minute hand on the mantel clock marking the hour, Owen slipped from the piano bench, then shoved his right hand into
his pocket. “Almost forgot. Ma sent the money for my lessons, last week and this.” He dropped the coins into Gwen’s hand.
“She said thanks for waitin’.”

Many would not consider it a great deal of money, but Gwen knew it was a financial sacrifice for the Goldsmith family. “Tell
your mother she’s welcome, and remember to thank Mrs. Evans for letting you practice on her piano.”

“Yes’m.” He grabbed the sheet music. “See you next week.” He started for the door, then stopped and spun toward her again.
“Miss Arlington? You still gonna give me lessons if you’re the mayor?”

“Yes, Owen. I’m still going to give you lessons.”

“That’s good, ’cause Ma said she wouldn’t vote for you if it meant you not teachin’ me no more.” With that, he dashed out
the door.

Gwen slid the bench under the keybed before putting the remaining sheet music into a wicker basket on the floor next to the
piano. One day, Owen might play on a piano in a place like Carnegie Hall, but his grammar would need to improve before then.
And that probably wouldn’t happen without changes in the Bethlehem Springs educational system. The town needed more teachers, more books, perhaps even a new building.

As mayor, education for the children of Bethlehem Springs would be her top priority.

A rap on the doorjamb drew her gaze to the front door. On the opposite side of the screen stood Morgan McKinley.

“Good afternoon, Miss Arlington. Am I intruding? I saw that young fellow leave, and I was hoping I might have a moment of
your time.”

She moved toward the door. “Owen was my last student for the day.”

“I heard him playing. Or was that you?”

She opened the screen, but rather than inviting him in, she stepped onto the porch. “How is it I can help you?” She didn’t
mean to sound unfriendly, but she was afraid she did.

If it bothered him, he didn’t let it show. “I am in need of a secretary, and I was hoping you might be able to recommend someone.”

And you couldn’t ask someone else?
It seemed a flimsy excuse for this visit.

As if reading her thoughts, he said, “I asked Mrs. Cheevers, but she had no suggestions. So I went over to the church, but
Reverend Barker is on a pastoral visit to someone who lives near the sawmill and he isn’t expected back until this evening.
And then I thought of you. Since I was close by, I decided to stop and ask you.”

“I might be able to come up with a few names. Give me a few days to think about it.” She narrowed her eyes. “Tell me, Mr.
McKinley. Do you plan to remain in Bethlehem Springs after you lose the election?”

“After?” Amusement lit his eyes. “Not
if
?”

She smiled despite herself. “After, not if.”

“I assure you, Miss Arlington” — he returned her smile — “I plan to spend plenty of time in Bethlehem Springs, no matter what
happens in the election.”

Gwen felt as if her stomach had done a somersault. Perhaps two or three.
Gracious. What an odd sensation.

Morgan enjoyed watching the emotions that played across her face. He almost thought she might like him a little. Or at least
didn’t dislike him as much as she’d seemed to in the past.

Reluctant to leave just yet, he glanced toward the chairs at the far end of the porch and asked, “Do you mind if we sit down?”

She surprised him by acquiescing with a nod, and he followed her as she walked to the porch swing. He settled onto one of
the chairs. Briefly their gazes met before she turned to look at the flowers in her garden. A touch of pink colored her cheeks,
and he realized that she was made uncomfortable by his staring.