Glamorous Illusions (10 page)

The younger Kensingtons and Morgans nodded. Felix and Andrew clinked their crystal goblets together in an unspoken toast. I swallowed hard, past a ball of anger threatening to choke me.
Keep quiet, Cora. This is none of your affair—

“So you believe the laborer has no rights at all?” I blurted out.

All eyes turned toward me…except for Will's. Had he winced?

Andrew looked at his father and Mr. Kensington and then said with barely concealed anger, “You are new to our company, Miss Cora. So perhaps you are not yet aware that Montana Copper pays their laborers a dollar more per week than any of our competitors. I'd say that's caring for the worker's rights where it counts most.”

I stared back at him. “You are right,” I said in a measured tone. “This is very new to me. How many men does Montana Copper employ?”

Andrew sat back and smiled a little, as if thinking me addle-minded. Will stared down at his half-eaten meal. Dread bubbled in my belly, but I could do nothing but press on.

“Seven hundred,” Mr. Kensington said. “We employ about seven hundred.”

“Seven hundred,” I repeated, thinking. “Suppose half of them have a wife, children. Montana Copper would be responsible for”—I shrugged, figuring—“two to three thousand people, in total? Or thereabouts?”

Mr. Kensington's eyebrows lowered. All eating and drinking ceased. “Thereabouts. But I wouldn't say—”

“How much is their weekly pay in total? Working the average shift?”

“See here, Cora,” Felix said. “Must we spoil dinner with such mundane conversation?”

“Twenty dollars,” Mr. Kensington said, staring hard at me. Giving me latitude. I had to admire him a little for it. Especially when I was clearly bent on making a point at his expense.

“Twenty dollars for the week, eighty for the month.”

“So the country girl can do her figures,” Vivian said.

I ignored her, warming to my topic. “What's the cost to rent one of those row houses?”

“Twenty a month,” Mr. Morgan said, narrowing his brown eyes.

“Hmm,” I said. “I've
lived
the economics you just described. It leaves little extra. If someone in his family takes ill…it can wipe them out. Their landlords might boot them out of the house, and then where do they go?” I lifted the sterling fork in my hand. “This piece of silver alone would feed a family of five for a month, maybe two. Does that not seem a tad”—I paused to gaze around the table—“unfair?”

Vivian dabbed at her mouth, took a sip of water from a crystal glass, and peered at me as if considering my words, but not truly doing so. I could see the loathing in her eyes.

Before she could speak, Mr. Kensington said, “Would you have us pass along all our profits to the laborers?”

“I am well aware that you have worked very hard for what you enjoy today. I do not begrudge it of you. Truly. But why such sharp disparity? Surely you have
all
of this as well as ample funds in savings and investments.” I shook my head, trying to think about what I wanted to say most, before the opportunity slipped away. “And what of your children?” I gestured to the others at the table. “The only thing that divides us from that laborer who toils far beneath the surface of the earth in our fathers' mines is the blood that runs through our veins.”

“Or
half
our blood,” Vivian said with a sniff.

“
Vivian
,” Mr. Kensington warned.

I didn't flinch. “Half my blood, then,” I said with a prim nod back at Vivian. “But if I cut open my wrist alongside yours, would it not appear as the very same red? Despite your effort to be a blueblood,
sister
, you are as red-blooded as I.”

I dared to look around at them all, staring them down. A small smile tugged at the corners of Will's mouth, but the others looked alternately aghast or furious.

“Are you quite finished?” Andrew asked, a muscle twitching in his neck.

“Not quite,” I returned softly. “A little more than a week ago, my parents and I were struggling to bring in enough on our farm to feed ourselves more than once a day. We had meat, but only on Sundays. Bills came due, often before we were ready to meet them. Somehow, God always provided, but it was hard. And life, for you…”

“We are in no need of your moral compass,” Andrew said. He waved at me dismissively, and Hugh and Vivian murmured their agreement.

“Aren't you?” It was out before I could catch myself.

Felix laughed in surprise, and Mr. Morgan joined in. The younger girls stared at us all with wide eyes.

“Perhaps we are,” Mr. Kensington said with an indulgent smile.

“You have no right to judge us,” Vivian said, her eyes narrowing. “You don't know the pressures there are, living as the upper class. We don't struggle to survive, I'll grant you that. But we face other challenges, equal challenges.” She glanced over to Andrew as if for support.

“You're right,” I said. “I haven't walked in your shoes.” I stared at my hands in my lap, thinking, then raised them up. “But these hands,” I said, “are blistered from hauling water and hoeing gardens and roping animals, not from needlework or tennis. I'd wager I understand the men in the employ of Montana Copper far better than you will.”

Vivian's mouth was hanging open as she stared at our father, who was nodding gravely, but then she abruptly shut it. She turned back to me, rage in her eyes. “So then tell us,
sister
. How might you circumvent a strike?”

“Move forward boldly. Generously. Assure them there's no need to unionize—make them believe Montana Copper is the best employer a man could ask for. You already pay them a dollar more per week than your competitors, which is truly commendable, but adding yet another dollar would do wonders for those families. Or better yet, some profit sharing. If the mine makes such and such, they earn an extra amount. Consider a doctor to care for their needs. Years down in the mines leaves many of them struggling with consumption.” I'd seen it for myself, in Dillon—those too ill to work the mines any longer. “Others with failing eyesight. And the mines are so dangerous… If an explosion occurred, and the company could pledge to take care of the men's families, it'd mean a great deal. Loyalty. For life.”

I looked to Mr. Kensington, suddenly nervous, checking his expression to see if I'd gone too far. But he only looked back at me with something akin to pride in his eyes.

“That would be an exorbitant expense,” Andrew said.

“I beg to differ. Such care would be winning for you in multiple ways. You'd attract the best workers possible. Not only would your men be in better health, they would be in better spirits. And men in good spirits and health are more efficient in their work. You may indeed galvanize them to produce even more, which means good profits for you, in turn.” I shrugged. “It could quite possibly negate the added expense.”

I picked up my napkin and rubbed my mouth, trying to occupy my hands. The rest of the table was still, each looking down at their plates as if waiting for the wrath of their fathers to unfold. But Mr. Kensington wasn't angry. In fact, he was smiling. “I do believe the girl is right.” He shook his head, then looked over at his partner and thumped Mr. Morgan on the shoulder. “What do you say, Morgan?”

“Well, it's something to consider,” he said noncommittally.

“More than consider. I'll tell you what, Cora. At our next board meeting, I will bring up every one of your suggestions. And I shall put my shoulder behind them.”

I stared at him in surprise and managed a single nod. “Thank you.”

“Well,” Hugh said with a clap of his hands, “now that we have resolved the fate of our workers, who is up for an evening canoe ride?”

“Oh, me!” said Lillian, clapping her hands, probably relieved both by the change of topic and the prospect of escaping the heat.

“And me!” said Nell.

The others all eagerly nodded, and Mr. Kensington waved them off, excusing them from the table. None looked at me as they departed. Right after, Will, his uncle, and Mr. Morgan did the same.

I stared at my food, which all looked far from appetizing. What had I done? Had I ruined any opportunity I might ever have with my siblings? The Morgans? I'd always had a difficult time remaining silent when I sensed an injustice and—

“Cora,” Mr. Kensington said softly. I dragged my eyes to his. But he was rising, standing beside his chair. “If you are finished with your supper, I'd like you to come with me.”

I did as he asked, following him out the swinging screen door to the porch, knowing he'd likely wish to call me into account in private. I'd so overstepped my bounds…Mama and Papa would be horrified.

“Please,” he said, gesturing to one of two rockers.

I gratefully sank into it, trying to catch my breath and slow my rapidly beating heart.

We rocked together in silence for a while, each of us looking out through the trees to the still lake, which reflected the last vestiges of the late-setting sun. “It will be all right in time, Cora,” he said.

I shook my head, hating that I was fighting sudden tears, refusing to cry but unable to speak, knowing my voice would crack. I folded my arms across my chest. “No, it won't,” I dared, swallowing hard. I shook my head. “This won't work. I must be away from here, from them. I'll leave in the morning. You can give us back the farm. I can return, finish bringing in the harvest for Papa—”

All tenderness left his voice. “No, Cora. You will not. That chapter is over.”

I frowned. “Even you must see that this plan cannot succeed. Or do you simply wish to torture me for a time, then send me off as you did my mother?”

To his credit, he didn't return my fire. He simply rocked and waited till I calmed down. “Kensingtons beat the odds,” he said, “every time. You will succeed—far more than you can imagine.”

“How can you promise that? You…you won't even be with us! This is my choice, not yours.” I rocked a few more times and then rose. “Pardon me. I think it best if I—”

“No,” he said. “The choice has been made. Your course has been set. The world is beginning to know you as my daughter.”

I laughed softly. “Montana, maybe. I doubt the
world
has taken notice.”

He touched my arm. “You would be surprised.”

I glanced over my shoulder at the others, now changed out of their evening finery and loading into canoes, then back to him. “I don't understand. Why not squire me away at Normal School, where I can finish my teaching degree in peace? Why foist me upon them?”
And them upon me?

“Because you will be good for one another,” he said. “Tonight is but one example.” He raised his hands, heading off my argument. “You will get your credential. After you complete the tour. Trust me. It will be worth it in the end.” He raised a finger of warning. “Not easy. But worth it.”

I sighed and leaned against the rail, looking out.

“How do you know?”

“Gut feeling.” He joined me at the rail and gave me a wry grin through gray whiskers, cocking his head. “Made a good deal of my money off my gut feelings. They told me there wasn't enough copper in the big hill to be worth the effort. But I knew I simply had to find a different way. That's what you'll need to do with your siblings, and the Morgans, too.”

I considered that. “Why not come with us, if it's so important for you to see us all together?”

He gave me another smile. “I'd only impinge upon your progress.”

“Mr. Kensington,” I said, “there is so much I don't know. I'll embarrass you, as well as my sisters and brother. Being raised on a farm—”

“What was I before I was a copper baron?” he interrupted. “A banker. Before that, a miner. Before that, a trader. And a guide. A packer. We all start somewhere.” He patted my arm. “Anna will help you,” he said. “Her mother schooled your brother and sisters on manners and the way of gentility. Anna can do the same with you.”

I pushed away a fleeting thought of Anna being yet another of his unclaimed children. It was an ugly thought. If he'd claimed me outright, surely he would have claimed any others.

“I'd wager that young William there shall be a solid companion for you.” He nodded to our right.

I followed his gaze to the giant cedars. Will was watching us but pretended not to.

“Look to him, Cora. He's a good man, a trustworthy sort.”

He left me then, clearly never considering that I might wish to do anything other than what he suggested. All I wanted was to get out of my confining clothes and let down my hair and bury my head beneath a pillow, shut out the world. Was that too much to ask?

Apparently, yes
,
I thought resentfully, striding toward Will as if he himself had created all the pressures that pulled and pushed at me from every side. He had moved to the beach, with his back to me now, skipping rocks as twilight faded. Across the narrow lake, we could hear two loons calling, the sound haunting, echoing across the water. Beyond them, there was laughter. The Kensingtons and Morgans.

Were they laughing at me? I forced myself to block them from my mind, to concentrate on the lake, the water. What were they to me? People I met today, that was all. We shared blood. The One who mattered to me still found me worthy, still loved me, whether I knew when to curtsy properly or not. I drew in a deep breath, letting the motion soothe me.

Will tossed a flat slate-gray stone out, and it sailed, turning before resting briefly on the water, jumping and jumping in progressively smaller skips.

“Twelve,” I said. “Quite a feat.”

“Not much of a feat,” he said with a gently appraising look. “More of practice paying off.” He stepped forward along the beach, looking for his next perfect stone. How I wished I could take off my slippers and wade into the cool, welcoming waters! I remained where I was, seriously contemplating sitting, unlacing my shoes—which were pinching my toes—and wading into the water until it covered my head. Screaming underwater, where no one could hear me. Until it was out of me, all out of me.