A Vote of Confidence (12 page)

To break the lengthening silence, he cleared his throat and asked, “How was the party at Commissioner Carter’s last night?”
Her eyes widened, and he knew he’d startled her with the directness of his question. “Mind telling me who was there? Or would
that be aiding and abetting the opposition?”

Gwen shook her head. Whether in answer to Morgan’s first question or the latter, he didn’t know.

“Miss Arlington.” He leaned forward in the chair. “I am
not
the enemy. I don’t wish you ill. Surely you could see from our articles in the newspaper that our ideas and desires for Bethlehem
Springs are more alike than they are different.”

A new emotion appeared on her face — regret. “That
is
what I’ve done, isn’t it? I’ve made you the enemy.” She released a soft, self-deprecating laugh. “I apologize, Mr. McKinley. An enemy is quite a different thing from a political opponent.”

“At least it is in our case. I’d like to believe we could be friends, no matter what happens in the election.”

Friendship. Was that what he wanted from her? He wasn’t so sure.

“There is no reason you shouldn’t know who came to the gathering last night.” Gwen raised a hand to her nape and twirled a
wisp of blonde hair around her index finger. “The entire board of commissioners and their wives were present. Mr. Patterson
from the paper and his wife. Mr. Benson from the mill and his wife and son. Our county sheriff, Mr. Winston, and his daughter.
Mr. O’Rourke from the mine. Reverend Rawlings from All Saints Presbyterian.” After a pause, she added, “I believe that’s everyone.
No, wait. Mayor Hopkins was there too.”

The guest list didn’t surprise Morgan. Money and power. That’s what mattered to a man like Harrison.

A frown crinkled Gwen’s brow. “Are you aware that Mr. Carter believes your spa is not in the best interests of the people
of Bethlehem Springs?”

“Yes, I’m aware of it. What about you? Do you believe it isn’t in the town’s best interests?”

“I may not understand all the ramifications.” Her answer showed both wisdom and caution. Her eyes narrowed a little as she
looked at him. “I know the reasons you say the town will profit by the resort, but I think I’d like to understand a little
more why you want to build a resort. Here or anywhere. You haven’t built a resort or a hotel anywhere else. Nor has the McKinley
family been involved in those enterprises. So what makes you want to do it now and here of all places?”

Ah, she had done her own bit of investigating. Good for her.

He leaned back in his chair again. “It began with my mother’s illness. I was in college when the symptoms first appeared.
Periods of pain throughout her body, usually intense. A general weakness at times. At others, total exhaustion.” It was his
turn to look toward the flowers in Gwen’s garden. “There were times when she didn’t get out of bed for a week or two at a
time. Different doctors diagnosed different conditions, and they tried numerous remedies. Her greatest physical relief came
from the warm water therapy and massage she received at spas in Europe.”

Morgan’s reply didn’t paint a complete picture of his mother’s struggles with debilitating pain, but he couldn’t bring himself
to be more descriptive.

He looked at Gwen again. “But it was her faith in God that gave her the strength and courage to endure. New Hope was her dream,
and while she didn’t live long enough to see it built, I mean to make it a reality in her memory. The McKinleys have enjoyed
financial blessings for many generations. That’s what allowed her to receive the help she did. But she dreamed of a place
where anyone could come. The poor who suffer from polio. The young and old who live with incurable pain. Those without faith
who need prayer.”

“Do you mean to say that your spa will not cater to the wealthy?”

“Not to them alone.”

There was something different about the way she looked at him now. Could it be a glimmer of admiration?

Encouraged, he said, “If you’d like, Miss Arlington, I could take you up to the site next week. Let you see for yourself.”

“I would like that, Mr. McKinley. If it wouldn’t be too much trouble for you.”

“No trouble at all. I have some obligations to see to on Monday and Tuesday. How about Wednesday?”

She shook her head. “I give piano lessons on Wednesdays.”

“Thursday then?”

“I visit my father and sister on the ranch on Thursday. We like to have lunch together.”

Had she changed her mind? Were these just excuses?

“But I suppose I could meet you at the resort site and then to go the ranch from there. Would that be convenient for you?”

Morgan liked the idea of a drive with Gwen seated beside him. He wanted them to spend that time together. After all, it could
be beneficial. He might be able to detail more of his plans, something he couldn’t do if they arrived and departed separately.

“I have a better idea,” he said. “Let me drive you up in my motorcar. When we’re finished at the resort, I’ll take you to
the ranch. It will be much faster.”

“How would I get home?”

“I’ll come back for you. All you would need to do is tell me when to return.”

“That would be too much to ask, Mr. McKinley.”

He smiled. “You aren’t asking. I’m offering.”

“But — ”

“I’ll pick you up at nine o’clock Thursday morning. That should give us ample time at the site and still get you to the ranch
for lunch.”

Her expression revealed her struggle as she weighed his offer. He thought for a moment that she would refuse and was surprised
by the disappointment he felt in return.

A small sigh escaped her. “All right, Mr. McKinley. I’ll be ready at nine o’clock Thursday morning.”

“Wear a scarf over your hat.” He rose from the chair. “It gets windy in the automobile.”

Gwen watched as Morgan walked down her front pathway with an easy, yard-eating gait. Once on the sidewalk, he looked back
and waved before heading east on Wallula Street toward the center of town.

Had it been wise to agree to drive with him to his resort? She didn’t know. But something had shifted in her heart as he talked
about his mother and his plans for the spa she’d wanted to build. He had seemed anything but controlling or high and mighty.
What sort of man built a spa that would cater to both the wealthy and the unfortunate?

One with a kind heart.

All the same, she wasn’t sure it was wise to spend time alone with Morgan McKinley She wanted voters to elect her as the next
mayor, and he wanted the same. He might not be her enemy, but still…

Was it dangerous to allow him to become a friend?

Dedrik Finster looked up from his mail sorting.
“Guten Tag
,
Fräulein
. Good you come in. You have letter from your
Mutter
.” He turned toward the individual slots on the far wall.

Gwen crossed the post office to the counter.

“Long time between letters. Your
Mutter
is well, I hope.”

“I hope so too.” She took the proffered envelope from the postmaster’s hand. “Thank you.”

“Is true, you will be mayor?”

“I want to be, Mr. Finster. I will do a good job. I hope you’ll vote for me.”

“I will decide. Vote very important.”

“Yes, I know it is.” While Mr. Finster’s English wasn’t perfect, she knew he was proud of his American citizenship and felt
privileged to be able to vote in an election. “You should cast your ballot for whoever you think will serve our town the best.”
She gave a little wave. “Please say hello to Mrs. Finster for me.”

“I will,
Fräulein
. I tell her.”

Gwen hurried down the sidewalk toward home, eager to read her letter. As happy as she was in Idaho, she still missed seeing
her mother and looked forward to hearing from her. She hoped the transcontinental telephone wires would soon reach Bethlehem
Springs, making it possible for her and her mother to speak to each other. It had been such a long time since she’d heard her mother’s voice.

On the porch, she made a beeline for the swing. Settling onto it, she opened the envelope and unfolded the pretty stationery.

Dearest Guinevere,

It’s been nearly two months since I’ve written to you or your sister. I have meant to write often but have not had the opportunity
until now.

Your grandfather fell and broke his right leg in three places, and even though we hired a nurse, Mother and I see to
many of his needs ourselves.

“Oh, no. Poor Grandfather.”

You can imagine how out of sorts Father is, being confined to his bed, unable to go into his office whenever he pleases. His
secretary (poor man) spends much of the day at the house, despite the doctor’s urging that Father rest more. Mother says she
cannot see why we should pay the physician
good money when Father refuses to follow any of his advice.

Gwen couldn’t help but smile. She could hear exactly how her grandmother would have said those words — loving but exasperated.

Before Father’s accident, I was visiting with Stuart
Martin and his sister at their home on Long Island. I believe you met the Martins at your coming out. Stuart has proven quite
the persistent suitor, and I believe he may be on the verge of proposing marriage to me.

Gwen noticed her mother didn’t mention she wasn’t free to
accept
Stuart Martin’s proposal. Had that even occurred to her?

When Gwen was about seventeen, she’d asked her mother why she never got a divorce. Elizabeth Arlington had replied that she
would not remove the protection of her wedding ring until it was about to be replaced by another.

“Oh, God,” Gwen whispered, an ache in her heart, “please lead my mother home to You.”

With all that is going on here, I’m sure you will understand why I must decline your invitation to come stay with you in Bethlehem
Springs for the summer. I do miss you terribly. Perhaps it’s time for you to return to your grandparents’ home. You could
bring Cleopatra with you, and we could spend a lovely holiday at the shore.

After Gwen settled in Bethlehem Springs seven years before, she’d tried to explain to her mother why she, Elizabeth, should
come for a visit, why she needed to see Cleo and let Cleo get to know her. Gwen understood the deep hurt her twin felt because
of her mother’s desertion. She wanted to see healing between those two.

But in their mother’s mind, she’d left Idaho — a place — not her husband and daughter. That they had remained behind wasn’t
her fault, just an unavoidable circumstance. There was no need, Gwen’s mother had written back, for her to return to Idaho
when Cleo was free to visit Hoboken at any time.

Despite her mother’s selfish actions and thoughtless behaviors, Gwen loved her and tried not to judge her too harshly. Still,
her refusal to visit Cleo was something she found hard to forgive.

Oh, I nearly forgot. Do you remember the Wellington boy, the young man I once encouraged you to consider as a suitor? He became
involved with a woman of poor family and there was something about a child, although I never learned the particulars. Certainly
he disgraced his family’s good name. He took his own life last month. A shocking turn of events. It was in all the newspapers
and has been the talk of every social event I’ve attended.

Thank goodness you had the good sense to see through him years ago. He wasn’t at all what he appeared to be.

Her mother’s letter went on for another two pages of gossip about neighbors and friends from her social circle. Nothing of
interest to Gwen who cared little about the things her mother found so important.

Well, I must close. This is my day to join your grandfather for lunch at his bedside. His preferred topic of conversation
is matters of business, which I find boring. I do hope he will be able to get about on his own soon so I can get on with my life.

Say hello to Cleopatra and your father for me, and tell your sister I will write to her soon. Sending my love.

Mother

Gwen sighed as she refolded the letter. Sometimes she felt more the parent than the child. She wanted to chastise her mother,
to scold her, to tell her to grow up, to encourage her to think of someone other than herself every now and again.

“I’m sorry for feeling that way, Lord,” she whispered as she slipped the stationery into its envelope. “But Mother can be
so exasperating at times.”