Love on a Dime (15 page)

Gritting his teeth, Jack headed for the front veranda.

FIFTEEN

W
elcome to Summerhill, Mrs. Santerre. I’m delighted you’ve come.” Lilly pasted on her most hospitable smile as her future mother-in-law grabbed her hands and squeezed the blood right out of her fingers.

When Mrs. Santerre released her grip, she glanced from Lilly to Miranda to Mama. “It’s delightful to see all of you. But where ’s my dear Harlan?”

The door opened and Harlan stepped onto the veranda. “I’m here, Mother.” He gave her a quick hug and pecked her on the cheek.

“Shall we all go inside?” Mama asked.

“Come along, girls,” Mrs. Santerre directed with a lift of her chin. Dressed in a chocolate brown traveling suit, she wore a fashionable cocoa colored hat with dark feathers rising from the brim.

“In a few moments, Aunt Dolly,” Miranda said.

Lilly grimaced as Dolly Santerre sailed into the foyer. A female version of Harlan, Dolly was stick-thin except for her remarkably prominent bosom accentuated by a sturdy corset. Her blue eyes reflected the same winter chill as Harlan’s.

“How I dreaded her arrival,” Lilly whispered to Miranda when the door closed. “She intimidates me so.”

Miranda gurgled with laughter. “Aunt Dolly intimidates everyone. I’d like to say she ’s completely harmless, but I’m afraid she does have a bite. From time to time.” She squeezed Lilly’s arm. “Don’t look so distraught. I’m exaggerating.”

But Lilly knew the truth when she heard it.

The crunch of a horse ’s hooves on the pebbled driveway distracted her from anxiety over her future mother-in-law. The gig halted at the veranda and Jack jumped out of the driver’s seat. She braced herself as he sprang up the steps and halted by her side.

“Good day, ladies.” He bowed. His gaze rested on Miranda. “Did I just see Mrs. Santerre?”

“Yes, indeed. She ’s my aunt—my mother’s sister.”

“You are Harlan’s cousin?” His tone began as incredulous, but then he collected himself. “I had no idea you were related. How fine to have more of your family here with you at Summerhill.” He leaned against the porch rail and studied Miranda, ignoring Lilly. “Miss Reid, I’ve been meaning to ask you a question. Do you happen to know Miss Fannie Cole, the authoress? Since you bought her books for the women at the Settlement House, I thought it’s quite possible you’re acquainted.”

Lilly froze.

Miranda tossed him an easy smile. “None of my acquaintances is named Fannie Cole. As far as I know, there aren’t any Coles in society.”

A slight smile on his lips, he looked from Miranda to Lilly, then back again. “It’s a nom de plume, of course. But it’s apparent you’d rather not speak of her.” He raised his bowler. “Have a splendid afternoon.”

AFTER DINNER AT home, the ladies gathered in the elegant drawing dining room. Lilly hoped she and Miranda could wander off unnoticed, but Mrs. Santerre peered through her spectacles when they rose to leave.

“Stay, my dear girls. We must discuss the wedding. There ’s no time like the present, I always say. Harlan and I feel the sooner the marriage takes place, the better. It’s merely a matter of setting the date.” Dolly Santerre flashed a smug smile.

Overwhelming a high-backed chair with her presence, though not her size, Dolly resembled a dowager duchess. Her neck stretched back, tilting her small head and sharp chin upward. Through her pince-nez, she peered down upon her subjects. Critically. Her steady gaze swept across the ladies on the settees and rested on Lilly. “So, how does the last Saturday in August sound to you, Lillian?”

Lilly inhaled sharply. “The bride always sets her own wedding date.” She could scarcely believe she ’d found the gumption to equivocate with the commanding Dolly Santerre.

“Naturally, I’m giving you that choice. You’re not objecting to August, are you?” One eyebrow arched dangerously.

Lilly’s hands twisted her crepe de chine skirt. “I had my heart set on a spring wedding. May is a beautiful month in New York.”

Mrs. Santerre snorted. “May is unlucky for weddings. June is far more suitable. But why wait so long when you can have a lovely summer affair here at Summerhill?“ She studied her for a moment. “Lillian, I don’t understand your reluctance. Is there some reason you insist upon delaying the ceremony?”

All eyes rested on Lilly. She shrank back into the sofa. “No, except that I love the spring.”

Dolly chomped back, “Spring weather isn’t dependable.”

Mama offered a cautious smile. “Actually, Dolly, summer in Newport is also unpredictable.”

Lilly looked eagerly to her mother, an unexpected block against Dolly’s intimidation. A frown flickered across Mama’s face like a flash of pale heat lightning and then faded.

Amusement raised the corners of Irene ’s mouth. “Personally, I’d choose August for my nuptials. What month does your son prefer, Mrs. Santerre?”

“August. Definitely August.” A curt nod punctuated her pronouncement.

Lilly gritted her teeth. “I’ll agree to next June.” She couldn’t allow her future mother-in-law to grab the upper hand or the woman would soon control every aspect of her marriage. “I’m so relieved that’s settled.” She forced a smile and then reached out to squeeze Miranda’s hand, as if all was perfectly well and she was merely an excited bride to be.

Mrs. Santerre clicked her tongue then spoke in her sweetest, most reasonable voice. “I’m sorry my dearest, but I forgot to mention the most important consideration.”

Holding her breath, Lilly waited with a sinking heart while the older woman scrunched her face into a counterfeit look of regret.

“My dear mother, Mrs. Langley, wishes to attend. She ’s eighty-five and in poor health. So, it’s imperative we have the wedding as soon as possible.” Mrs. Santerre expelled a long sigh, as mournful as a foghorn. “She may not live through the winter. Her heart, you know.” She thumped the deep curve of her breast, upholstered in moss green brocade.

Lilly paused a moment, then stood and faced her future mother-in-law. “I’ve dreamed of a spring wedding ever since I was a little girl. However, I understand your situation. I too would like Mrs. Langley to attend.” Lilly smiled graciously through clenched teeth. “So, I have the solution; the wedding will take place on the second Saturday of September here in Newport.”

“As you wish.” The blood drained from Mrs. Santerre ’s face. With her grimace frozen in place, she resembled an ice sculpture.

“Is that an acceptable date for you—and for your mother?” Lilly knew she ’d crossed the line. Dolly Santerre refused to tolerate defiance. For Harlan’s sake and probably for her own as well, she needed to stay in the woman’s good graces. A difficult task when Mrs. Santerre resisted any ideas other than her own. Yet Lilly vowed not to give in to the woman’s every whim.

Dolly gave a brusque nod. “Mother will live until September, though the last weekend in August would be more convenient.”

As if Mrs. Santerre determined the dates of life and death
.

Lilly knew Mrs. Langley, the family matriarch, suffered from failing health. She couldn’t make it out the door of the home she shared with the Santerres no matter when or where the wedding took place. It was all a farce, a blatant attempt on Dolly’s part to wield control.

Mama’s eyes fluttered. “There’s one other thing we need to discuss—the engagement party. Since the wedding is in the near future, we need to announce the engagement as soon as possible.”

“Whatever you decide will be fine with me,” Lilly demurred.

Mrs. Santerre brightened. “You can count on my help, Vanessa. After marrying off five daughters with only one more to go, I know a little something about parties and wedding receptions.”

“Thank you so much.” Lilly headed for the door with her friend at her heel. “Miranda and I are going for a walk down by the beach. Would anyone care to join us?”

When all the ladies declined, she and Miranda hurried outside into the setting sun. Blood-red streaks blended into hues of rose and orange, glowing across the western sky.

Miranda glanced sideways. “I can see trouble ahead for you and Harlan. Aunt Dolly will try to control everything you do.”

They crossed the shadowed lawn. Lilly stopped by the boulders reaching down into the cove. Giant waves washed over the rocks below, thrusting fingers of seaweed into the crevices. She led Miranda down the wooden stairs to the small strip of beach she called her sanctuary, holding her skirts above the damp silver sand.

“I do hope you’re wrong. Oh my, I’ll certainly have my hands full.” Lilly gave a wry smile. “Do you think Harlan will stand up for my point of view?”

They stood side by side on the beach watching the sun sink toward the horizon. Miranda exuded so much compassion and concern, Lilly wondered if she should take Mrs. Santerre even more seriously than she already was.

Miranda tossed a pebble into the roaring surf. “You must understand, although Harlan loves you, he’s always taken his mother’s part. Aunt Dolly adores him and he appreciates her loyalty. I doubt that he’ll change.” Miranda stamped her shoe in the firm gray sand and looked sorrowfully in her direction. “Now I’ve gone and upset you, Lilly. Forgive me. Remember, my cousin Harlan’s a good man. He’ll put you on a pedestal, just as he does Aunt Dolly. I’m sure he ’ll make you happy.” But Miranda’s voice wavered.

“You’re really not sure I should marry him, are you?”

“Oh, Lilly. I truly don’t know what’s best for you. Think about it long and hard. You must be sure of your love before you walk down the aisle.”

Miranda’s words reflected the doubts Lilly harbored in her heart. Could a mama’s boy ever bring her joy? “If I didn’t believe we’d be content, I’d never marry him.” Yet, she’d have to assert herself with her future mother-in-law and insist her marriage remain off limits. No acquiescing to keep family peace. Unfortunately, she lacked experience standing up for herself and defending her own opinions.

Miranda patted Lilly’s arm. “Don’t fret about Aunt Dolly. You’ll find a way to deal with her. Just think—we’ll soon be related. Won’t that be fun?”

“Yes, I’m looking forward to it.” Then Lilly frowned. “But I do worry I’m not temperamentally suited to the Santerres’ social set.”

“Of course you won’t take up my aunt’s tiresome schedule. You’d detest those boring get-togethers.”

“Indeed. I try my best to avoid them even now.” Lilly lowered herself onto a boulder and cocked her head. “Do you think Harlan will allow me to follow the Lord’s plans for my life? You know, my writing, my visits to the Settlement House. He ’s already told me I should find another charity to support.”

Miranda rolled her eyes toward the darkening sky. “I’m sure he’ll leave you to your own devices.”

“But is it right to keep my ministry from him?” Lilly sighed. She valued her privacy, but she didn’t like living a double life. “I still feel such dreadful guilt about deceiving Harlan—and my family as well.”

“I’ll pray that the Lord will arrange the right time and circumstance for you to tell everyone.” Miranda gave her a warm hug.

“Please do pray for me. I want to be honest and open. Keeping this secret is eating away at my soul. And I know it can’t please the Lord.” Lilly shuddered. “But I’m so afraid exposure would ruin my family.”

“Lilly, God’s light shines through your work—just not through your name. The Lord will show you a solution.”

The sun melted into the horizon. Stars twinkled dimly in the luminous blue sky as the moon ascended. Lilly folded her arms around her chest to stave off the chilly night air.

Lord, please show me what You wish me to do
.

LILLY KNEW IF she failed to appear for afternoon tea in the bedroom where she ’d spent the last two hours catching up on her writing. Headed down the hallway, she was stopped cold by shouts from George and Irene ’s room. Despite the rise and fall of angry voices, her brother and sister-in-law’s quarrel penetrated the walls loud and clear.

George spit out his words in a barrage of verbal bullets. “Irene, for months you’ve shopped to your heart’s content and played cards into the small hours of the morning. But fourteen hundred dollars lost in a bridge game! Where on earth will I find the funds to pay your debt?”

“I simply don’t know. But I’m sure you’ll find a way, my dearest.” Irene sounded petulant. In her mind’s eye, Lilly pictured her sister-in-law’s pout, one of her standard weapons aimed at anyone who crossed her.

“That’s impossible. I have very little money of my own.”

“Do keep your voice down, George. Maybe you can borrow money from your parents. They wouldn’t want your reputation soiled.”

George grunted. “It’s really your reputation, not mine. Everyone knows I don’t gamble.”

“Nevertheless, I imagine your parents will help us. They’ll want to preserve the family’s good name.”

“I refuse to ask. It’s not their problem.”

“Well then, I’ll speak to them myself.” Lilly heard belligerence in Irene ’s voice coupled with a shrill note of fear. Lilly almost pitied her sister-in-law, though the careless woman obviously hadn’t worried about consequences when she ’d played cards for high stakes.

“Ask your Uncle Quentin,” George boomed.

“I can’t. He ’s traveling in Europe and I don’t know how to get in touch with him.”

“Telegraph his office in San Francisco. They’ll give you his schedule.”

Irene ’s sigh dragged into a groan. “Please, George, stop badgering me. Tracking him down is out of the question. Uncle Quentin isn’t responsible for my debts. You are.”

“All right, Irene. I’ll think of something to help you. But never again. Do you understand?”

George ’s barely restrained anger shocked Lilly. Her lackadaisical, easy-going brother seldom raised his voice or showed irritation, let alone fury. Lilly knew she shouldn’t listen to a private conversation, even one loud enough to be labeled a shouting match. But her shoes were riveted to the carpet runner. She ’d never heard Irene and George bicker before, though lately they seemed to spend more time apart. Irene often played hand after hand of bridge while George frequented billiard tables and the golf links. They seldom showed affection or laughed at each other’s jokes as they had only a few months ago.