Making Waves (32 page)

With a skip in her step, Nellie hurried inside.

“You should have woken me.”

“I didn’t for selfish reasons. I want you to be rested so we can sit up all night and talk.”

Tall, slender Beulah returned with Marguerite’s niece in tow. She carried a heaping plate of food in one hand and a pitcher of lemonade in the other. Beside her, Nellie precariously carried two tumblers. Beulah set the plate in front of Marguerite, then filled the two glasses. Marguerite thanked her and told her the food smelled delicious. The aging cook left with a smile on her wrinkled face.

“It’s so hot this evening it’s like living in an oven.” Mary fanned her face and sipped the lemonade. “I know it’s better at the lake. I tried to convince Thomas to set up a tent for at least one week, but he’s afraid to have Nellie so close to the water. I suppose he has a point.”

Marguerite immediately thought of her own experiences, and Trip hauling her out. “It can be a dangerous place.”

“I wanna play.” Nellie tugged on Marguerite’s skirt.

Marguerite scooped her up and blew raspberries on her tummy. When her niece’s giggles subsided, she righted her. “Why don’t you go get your doll and we’ll play hospital? I’ll show you how to be a nurse and take care of your sick patient.”

Nellie scampered inside and returned a few minutes later carrying her German-made bisque baby doll and two bandage rolls.

“Where did you get the bandages?” Mary cupped her daughter’s chin.

“Miss Boolah gave them to me to play with.”

“Miss Beulah is very kind.” Marguerite smoothed the doll’s dark, spiraling curls. “Why don’t you put your patient to bed in that wicker chair? Would you like that?”

Blonde curls bobbed when Nellie nodded enthusiastically.

“And here’s a blanket for your doll.” She handed the girl a linen napkin from the table. “What’s her name?”

“Patience. Mommy named her. She said I needed patience.”

Marguerite raised an eyebrow at Mary. “Patience?”

“What can I say?” Mary refilled her lemonade glass from the flowered pitcher. “She’s definitely your niece.”

With her doll tucked beneath her arm, Nellie moved to the other chair. She crooned singsong lullabies as she rocked her baby. Then she swathed the doll’s head in bandages until the poor thing looked more like a mummy than a plaything.

Marguerite sipped the tart beverage and sighed. When had her problems stopped being about playing house and started being about building one with a man she couldn’t stand?

Holding up the pitcher, Mary waited until Marguerite set down her glass to refill it. “Marguerite, I love when you visit – but why are you here?” She covered her mouth with her hand and giggled. “That sounded bad, didn’t it? What I meant to say was, I’m thrilled you’re visiting, but I can see something is troubling you and I’d like to help. You just got engaged, but you are far from ecstatic.”

“Look, Mama, a black squirrel.” Nellie dropped her doll on the chair and tore through the yard after the little creature.

The two ladies paused to watch her race to the oak only to lose her prey up the tree.

“Marguerite, what can I do to ease your burden? Is it Mother? Is she pressuring you into this marriage?”

“No, Mother isn’t pressuring me.”

“You mean to tell me that you agreed to marry Roger Gordon of your own volition?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t understand. You’ve never even liked him. I know. You’ve told me that at least a hundred times.”

“I can’t explain it.”

“You mean you won’t.”

“Either way the answer is the same.”

Mary took a deep breath. “You’re serious?”

Marguerite nodded, the tightness in her throat keeping her from saying more.

A frown tipped Mary’s lips, and for a minute Marguerite feared her sister might force the matter. Finally Mary released an exasperated sigh. “All right then, I’ll let it go for now.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t get too excited. I have something else to ask you about. Have you noticed how stressed Father appears?”

“Yes.”

“I would have thought summering at Manawa would have helped, but when I saw him the other day for lunch, he didn’t seem himself at all.” Mary set her glass down and leaned forward in her chair. “What have you heard? Is business going poorly for him?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Marguerite Westing, if I didn’t know you better, I’d say you were being deliberately evasive.”

“Maybe.” She forked the last bite of her pork chop. “Anything else bothering you?”

“Changing subjects? You are good.” Mary checked Nellie’s location with a quick glance and then leaned close. “As a matter of fact, I have a secret, and you must promise not to breathe it to a soul.”

Secrets. The word soured Marguerite’s stomach. Secrets surrounded her. She pinched the bridge of her nose. “What is it?”

“I’m expecting.” A smile set Mary’s face aglow. “Nellie is going to have a little brother or sister by Valentine’s Day.”

Marguerite squealed and squeezed her sister’s hand. “That’s wonderful. How have you been feeling?”

Mary wrinkled her nose. “In the mornings I’ve felt horrible. Thomas was so worried about me yesterday morning that before his business trip he almost sent for the doctor. But he calmed down when I told him the peaches we had for supper didn’t agree with me.”

“Why didn’t you tell him the truth? That it was the baby?”

The smile slid from her face. “I haven’t told him about being in the family way.”

“Why not?”

“He wanted only one child. Since it’s been four years, I thought he’d gotten his wish.”

“So you aren’t going to tell him? Won’t the truth be obvious soon?”

“Probably.” Mary pressed a hand to her stomach. “But I’m hoping I’ll find the right words before then. And praying that God will help him come to terms with it.” She paled. “I’m afraid dinner isn’t settling well. Would you mind terribly tucking Nellie in for me?”

“Not at all.” As if on cue, Nellie ran up beside them. Marguerite pulled the girl onto her lap. “Would that be okay with you, Nellie-pooh?”

“Will you read me a story?”

“Better than that,” her mother answered. “Marguerite will tell you all about the stars.” She kissed the top of her daughter’s head and turned to leave. She stopped in the doorway. “And Marguerite, you’re right. When you love someone, they deserve to know the truth. I’ll tell Thomas tomorrow when he gets back from his trip.”

Two hours, three books, and a set of paper dolls later, Marguerite slipped Nellie’s nightgown over her head.

“Did you like the stars?”

Nellie nodded. “And the story of your Camp An . . . an . . .”

“Andromeda.” Instantly Marguerite was transported to the night she’d told Trip about their camp’s name. He’d rightly guessed that she felt like the chained maiden about to be devoured by a monster. Except she’d thought it was her mother who’d chained her, not her father.

Marguerite blinked back the tears that flooded her eyes, drew back the covers, and watched her niece slide beneath them.

“Aunt Margweet?”

“Yes, sweetie?”

“Why do you look so sad?”

“My heart is broken.”

“I have a bandage. I can fix it.”

Marguerite fingered a curl. “I wish you could, little one. I wish you could.”

22

Adjusting her flower-bedecked straw hat, Marguerite took a deep breath and braced herself before entering the Yacht Club. After returning from the stay at her sister’s, she’d spotted a notice posted at the pavilion that said volunteers were needed to assist in planning the Water Carnival. Right away she knew she’d found the answer to her prayers. She simply had to escape her mother’s engagement party preparations. She didn’t want the party, and she certainly didn’t want the fiancé who came with it. What she needed right now was something to take her mind off the whole nightmare.

Mary had tried to, and her joyous news helped. An added blessing had come when Mary told Thomas about the baby and he’d been elated. Mary explained that he’d kept telling her how happy he was with only one child because he didn’t want her to feel bad about not conceiving for so many years.

Maybe the truth wasn’t always painful.

Climbing the steps to the front door of the Yacht Club, Marguerite entered, and a pinch-faced man motioned her to the back. There she found the office door marked “Water Carnival.” She knocked and received a gruff “Come in.” She nudged the door open and stepped inside. A man with salt-and-pepper hair shooting from beneath a wide-brimmed straw hat bent over an oak desk. He muttered, “Just a minute.”

“Captain Andrews?”

His head lifted. “Well, if it isn’t the girl who broke my son’s heart.”

“He told you that?”

“He didn’t have to.”

Marguerite looked at the floor. “It’s complicated.”

“And it’s none of my business.” He motioned for her to have a seat. “So, you want to volunteer to help an old man organize the Water Carnival?” He rubbed his whiskered chin. “Well, seeing as how I don’t have anyone else beating down the door, I suppose you’ll do. You got any ideas?”

“Can you tell me about the event first, sir?”

A frown cratered the wrinkles in his weathered face. “Because I’m president of the Yacht Club, the task of putting this whole shebang together falls on my shoulders. With Trip getting second in the regatta, we got a whole slew of new boat orders, so I’ll tell you right now that I won’t have time to hold your hand.”

“I understand, sir.”

“Good. You’ll need to organize a committee of other women to help. The Water Carnival is to be the climax of the summer for all the visiting patrons. It needs to be spectacular.”

“And who is footing the bill, sir?”

The corners of his mouth lifted. “Practical. I like it. I have a commitment of funds from Colonel Reed, the Manhattan Beach Company, and the Electric Motor Company to purchase decorations and such.”

“And would the ‘such’ possibly contain fireworks?”

“You have an idea, don’t you?”

“Sir, I always have ideas.”
Except one to get me out of
marrying Mr. Boring
. “I attended the World’s Fair in Chicago two years ago. I think we could almost duplicate the Water Carnival I saw at the Jackson Park Lagoon right here at Lake Manawa. May I tell you about it and see what you think?”

To her surprise, Captain Andrews listened intently while she described the magnificent event she’d witnessed. More than once she caught him smiling, revealing dimples similar to Trip’s. But his eyes, a sea-foam green, spoke a shocking difference.

Yet it was the baritone timbre of his voice that shook her most. When Captain Andrews wasn’t grousing or growling at someone, he sounded exactly like his son.

A lump the size of the boat shop formed in her throat as he spoke. Spending time with Captain Andrews made her feel closer to Trip. He was an extension of the man she loved, and despite his gruff exterior, she could sense the heart of a good man.

Inhaling deeply, he leaned back in his chair. “This would be a massive undertaking.”

“I know, but – ”

He held up his hand to silence her. “I’m not against big jobs. I like hard work and I like the idea. Tell you what. You get me a committee together by tomorrow afternoon, and we’ll move ahead with this.”

“How large a committee?”

“Say, twenty women. I know if you get the wives involved, the husbands will follow.”

Twenty? She didn’t know twenty women at Lake Manawa. Maybe she could find ten to help, but twenty?

He rose from his desk and pushed back his chair dismissively. “They can meet in the Yacht Club’s parlor. If it’s not large enough, get a room at the pavilion. Tell them I sent you.”

She stood. “Yes, sir. I won’t let you down.”

“See to it that you don’t.”

On the way back to camp, Marguerite pondered how to find twenty women willing to join the Water Carnival committee. She’d start contacting potential committee members after lunch.

When she arrived at Camp Andromeda, the scent of fried ham wafting from the camp’s gasoline stove told her lunch would soon be forthcoming. She headed to the table and found her mother surrounded by papers.

The engagement party. How could she forget? If she snuck away before her mother spotted her . . .

“Marguerite. Good. You’re home.” Camille shifted a pile of paper to make room for her daughter. “I wanted to go over the guest list with you.”

“Mother, can we eat? Wait. Did you say guest list?” Marguerite snatched the paper from her mother’s hand. Scanning the sheet, she saw at least fifty names in her mother’s familiar elaborate script. “Are all these people vacationing here this summer?”

“Of course, darling. Some are staying and some are commuting. We can’t possibly invite everyone at the lake, but we can’t leave out anyone important either.” She held up a second sheet of paper. “See, these are the questionables.”

“Can I see that too?”

“Yes, dear. I’m so happy to see that you’re taking an interest in this.” Her mother handed the paper to her. “I knew you’d come around. As you can see, I think I’ve included everyone.”

Marguerite read the list of names, remembering her mother once telling her that the secret to getting socialites to participate in something was recruiting someone at the top of the social ladder first. Who could be better to recruit than her own future mother-in-law? This list contained an entire committee’s worth and then some.