A Vote of Confidence (23 page)

The sanctuary was silent on a Saturday morning, the lighting dim with the doors closed and no candles or lamps burning. Gwen
knelt at the rail before the front pew, hands folded, head bowed.

In nine hours, she would be in the basement of another church on the opposite side of town, facing many of the voters of Bethlehem
Springs, trying to convince them that she was the better candidate for mayor. Was that true? Would she be able to govern as
she should? Would she make a better mayor than Morgan McKinley?

Father
,
fill me with Your peace.

She wouldn’t have agreed to run if she hadn’t thought God had told her it was the right thing to do. She wouldn’t have run
if her father and sister hadn’t agreed that she should.

May Your will be done
,
Lord.

Cleo had worked hard this past week, going from house to house and business to business, sharing what Gwen wanted to accomplish
as mayor — improvements to the school, better streets and sidewalks, new equipment for the fire department. Would that information
help persuade those who had reservations about a woman holding office?

Which one of us do You mean to be mayor?

Gwen didn’t doubt that Morgan was a follower of Christ. She’d observed him enough, listened to him enough, to convince her
that his faith was real.

But shouldn’t he concentrate on the resort if he believes You brought him here to build it?

Guilt pricked her spirit. That was a selfish prayer.

Help me not to be envious or resentful if he should win the election.

Gwen opened her eyes and stared at the wooden cross on the wall above the altar. Like a caress, she felt peace brush against
her heart. The nervousness she had felt earlier was gone. Whatever happened tonight, she would be all right. Whatever happened in the election, she would be all right. She would trust in the will
of the Lord.

Thank You
,
Father.

She stood, stepped into the center aisle, and walked toward the back of the sanctuary. Moments later, she moved into the bright
June sunshine. The day was already warming. She hoped it wouldn’t be too hot by the time Owen arrived for his lesson.

Speaking of the boy, wasn’t that him riding pell-mell toward her on a bicycle? Kitty must have come up with the money to fix
the tire, but how Gwen couldn’t imagine.

When Owen saw her, he skidded to a halt. “Hey, Miss Arlington.”

She walked up to him. “Good morning, Owen. I see both your knee and your bicycle tire are much improved.”

“The tire wasn’t fixed. It’s a whole new bike!”

“A new bike?”

“Mr. McKinley brought it to me this morning. He had it shipped up from Boise special, just for me.”

“He did?”

“Ma tried to tell him we couldn’t accept it, but he talked her into it. But she says I’m gonna have to do some chores for
him until I’ve paid him back.”

Yes, that sounded like Kitty Goldsmith. She might be poor but she was proud.

Owen’s smile was brighter than the sunshine. “I’ve never had nothin’ as nice as this bike. Not ever.”

“It’s a beautiful bicycle, Owen. Be careful that you don’t take another tumble.”

The boy laughed. “I won’t, Miss Arlington. I’m gonna take real good care of it.”

As Owen prepared to ride away, Gwen said, “Don’t forget your lesson this afternoon.”

“I won’t.” And away he went.

She wondered if Morgan had any notion what a wonderful thing he’d done for that boy. He was a wealthy man, she knew, and well
able to afford the gift he’d given. But had he understood in advance how much it would mean to Owen?

Yes. He must have. And she couldn’t help but like him all the more for it.

If she lost the election to him, at least she could take comfort in knowing he was a man with a compassionate heart.

The basement of the Bethlehem Springs Methodist Church was filled with chairs and benches, most of them occupied fifteen minutes
before the hour. It was an even better turnout than Morgan had expected.

“Mr. McKinley.”

He turned toward the sound of Gwen’s voice. She stood in the doorway of the small room where he’d been collecting his thoughts.
She wore a jacket and skirt, deep rose in color, and a small hat without decoration. Her attire, he was certain, was meant
to say,
Take me seriously. I mean business.

“Owen Goldsmith showed me his new bicycle today,” she said.

“He was excited when I delivered it.”

There was an unspoken question in her gaze. “It was a wonderful gift.”

“I could see how things are for the Goldsmiths. Owen wouldn’t have had a new tire for a long while. Maybe not ever.” He shrugged.
“I wanted to help out. A boy should have a bike.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Goldsmith have had a great deal of trouble in recent years. They won’t forget your kindness to them.”

Could she mean — ? No, surely she didn’t mean that. But just to make certain, he said, “I didn’t do it to get their votes,
if that’s what you’re thinking.”

She looked surprised. “Of course not. I believe I know you better than to think that.”

Did she? Did she know him well enough not to suspect his motives? He hoped so. He wanted her to know him well. Well enough
to fall in love with him.

Gwen Arlington already owned his heart. He’d sworn he would never again fall victim to a pretty face, and he hadn’t. Oh, she
was beautiful, but he’d fallen for so much more than that. And if it weren’t for the election, he would have made it clear
by now that he was courting her. He wouldn’t be moving with such care. Maybe he would already have a better idea how she felt
about him.

Kenneth Barker, the Methodist minister, opened the door and looked into the antechamber. “Here you both are. It’s time we
begin. Are you ready?”

“Yes,” Gwen answered.

“We’re ready,” Morgan added.

“Good. I’ll introduce you, and then we’ll begin with Miss Arlington. There’s a good crowd. It’s great to see the community
so interested.” The reverend disappeared from view.

“Well, here we go.” Morgan motioned for her to precede him. “Good luck to you.”

“I don’t believe in luck, Mr. McKinley.” She walked toward the door, shoulders straight and head high.

Morgan smiled.
Neither do I.

Gwen had felt a few flutters of nerves earlier in the evening, but they vanished when she faced the crowd. She didn’t have
to look at her notes to remind herself what she wanted to say. She knew what concerned her friends and neighbors, because
those things concerned her as well.

“As mayor, it would be my goal to encourage new enterprises to do business in Bethlehem Springs. That will become even easier
once a railroad spur is brought up our way. Will the railroad come to our town? I have it on good authority” — she sent a
fleeting smile toward Senator Rudyard where he stood in the back of the room — “that it will. And once my worthy opponent’s
health spa opens” — she nodded toward Morgan — “we will see an influx of visitors to our community. That will benefit many
of our local businesses and tradesmen.”

Her gaze fell upon Harrison Carter, seated in the third row center. There was no misunderstanding the expression on his face.
He was displeased with her opening address. Knowing he was against the completion of Morgan’s spa, she knew he wasn’t happy
with her endorsement of the same. She didn’t care. Everything she’d said in the past ten minutes had been from her heart.

She brought her comments to a close with some words of thanks to those who had supported and encouraged her in her candidacy,
especially her father and sister. Then she returned to the chair beside Morgan and sat down.

“Excellent job,” he whispered.

Kenneth Barker stepped to the podium. “And now we will hear from Morgan McKinley.”

Morgan rose, and there was some applause. “Thank you. You’re very kind.” He glanced at his notes, then set them aside on the
lectern and began to speak.

Gwen noted his ease as he addressed the audience, most of whom he’d never met. His voice was pleasant and engaging. He had
an air about him that seemed to invite people to be his friend. Magnetism. Charm. Business experience. A knowledge of the
world at large. All of these were obvious assets.

He talked about the need for improvements to the school, the firehouse, and other city departments. He talked about the need for more openness in government at the local level. He
talked about the need for more businesses, and he talked about the importance of the railroad. In many ways, he seemed to
be parroting her comments.

She sat a little straighter. Yes. He
was
parroting her. How could he do that? Was his strategy to say that both candidates wanted the same things, therefore, vote
for a man instead of a woman? It made her so angry she wanted to box his ears. It made her so angry that she almost missed
his closing statement.

“As you have heard, my positions are almost identical to those taken by Miss Arlington. And so I tell you this. While I will
serve the people of Bethlehem Springs with integrity and purpose if elected, I believe Gwen Arlington will be the better mayor.
She is your neighbor, and her family has lived here for over three decades. Miss Arlington knows Bethlehem Springs and loves
it. Thus, when I go to the voting booth on Election Day, I plan to cast my vote for my worthy opponent. I encourage you to
do the same.” Morgan turned toward Gwen and gave her a slight bow.

The room was gripped by a stunned silence. Not so much as the creak of a chair or the tap of a foot. Gwen found it hard to
breathe. Had he said what she thought he’d said?

The Methodist minister stepped forward and placed a hand on Morgan’s shoulder. “Well…” He cleared his throat. “I must say
that was unexpected. I’m not sure how these two people can debate after that pronouncement.” He glanced at Morgan. “Perhaps
we should take questions from the audience instead.” His gaze moved from Morgan to where Gwen sat.

She nodded, rose to her feet, and moved to stand beside Morgan, hoping she looked more composed than she felt. Her mind was
still trying to understand this surprising turn of events. How could she form intelligent answers with her thoughts in such
disarray?

But no one posed any questions. Instead, one by one, people began rising to their feet and applauding.

“Vote for Arlington!” someone shouted — it sounded like Cleo — and the chant was picked up by others. “Vote for Arlington!”

Gwen felt a flush of excitement in her cheeks as she raised a hand to wave at the crowd. She was going to win the election.
She could feel it in the air.

And I have Morgan to thank for it.

That dampened her pleasure a little. After all, she’d wanted to win because she was qualified, because voters liked her ideas
and had confidence in her ability to be a good mayor. Was that the case now? Or would they vote for her because Morgan had
told them to?

What are you up to, McKinley?
Harrison wondered as he stood with the rest of the crowd, applauding.

A man didn’t throw an election to his opponent unless he had something to gain from it. Was Morgan just interested in a pretty
skirt or did he have another motive?