To Have and To Hold (12 page)

It wasn't until an hour after supper that Marshall returned downstairs and found Audrey alone on the front porch.

A deep frown creased her face when she saw him approach. “Have I done something to offend you, or are you simply worried about your father?”

After a quick glance toward the house, she motioned to him. “Why don't we take a walk? I'd like to speak to you in private.”

They hadn't gone far when she stopped and folded her arms across her waist. “I want you to know that I'm more than a little angry with you, Mr. Graham.”

“Me? What have I done?” Marshall stared down at her as the setting sun highlighted her unruly brown curls. There was no denying her beauty.

“I'd like to know what you were thinking when you took my father into town with you yesterday.” Her dark eyes flashed with irritation.

The question caught him by surprise. He'd thought it was something serious that had caused her anger. Then again, perhaps there was some reason why she hadn't wanted her father to go into town. “I asked him because I enjoy his company. Besides, I knew he could tell me where to locate the best prices on supplies. I thought getting off the island for the day would provide a helpful diversion.”

She took a backward step. “Ha! You expect me to believe that!” The look in her eyes changed from one of anger to disbelief.

“I don't know why you wouldn't—it's the truth.”

“Is it? I'm not so sure.” The words clipped off her tongue like deadly bullets.

What was wrong with this woman? She'd been contentious since the day he'd stepped foot on this island. It hadn't been his idea to come here, and he thought he'd made that fact quite clear. “Exactly what is it you've got against me, Miss Audrey?”

“What do I have against you? Well, let's start with the fact that you take my father into town and apparently convince him to return to his old drinking habits. Then you bring him back home and pretend that you have no idea why he's now ill. To make matters worse, I discover that you had plans to take him with you again today, and I'm sure you also planned to make stops at those same taverns.” She paused only long enough to inhale a shallow breath. “I would think that you would understand the difficulties of living with a father who places liquor before his family. I'm shocked that you encouraged my father to take up the habit again. Is this some sort of retribution for your own father's death in that barroom brawl? Did you think it unfair that my father was finally able to give up his drinking? Did you want to prove he hadn't really succeeded?”

Marshall opened his mouth to answer, but she waved him into silence.

“Don't bother to answer. I know it will be more lies. That seems to be what drinking men do the best—tell lies.” She turned to walk away, but Marshall grasped her by the arm.

“And it appears that you have a real gift for jumping to conclusions. I don't know why you believe I took your father into a tavern, but that has got to be the wildest idea I've heard in a long time.” She tugged at her arm, and Marshall released his hold. “Is that why you've been shooting daggers at me ever since I got home this afternoon?”

“I have not been shooting daggers at you. It's your own guilt that's causing your discomfort.” She pointed at him like a mother correcting a naughty child. “My father can't be permitted to slip back into his old ways—his drinking nearly killed him, and I'll not permit you or anyone else to lead him back into a life of alcohol.”

“Obviously you're not listening to me, Miss Cunningham. I would never encourage your father or anyone else—”

Audrey stomped her foot. “I don't expect you to own up to your reprehensible behavior, Mr. Graham.” She arched her neck and glared at him. “But you had best remember that Mr. Morley is an old friend of our family. He cares about me, and he cares about my father. If you don't stay away from my father, I'll see that you're fired.”

Marshall couldn't believe his ears. This woman had no business making such threats, yet he admired her tenacity and desire to protect her father. He wanted to tell her it was her father's urging that had brought him to this island and her father was the one who had encouraged him to remain. Marshall's first choice had been Jekyl Island, not Bridal Veil. At the moment, it took everything he had to not pack his belongings and head over to Jekyl, where he wouldn't have to deal with Audrey Cunningham.

Chapter 11

Over the next two weeks, as October gave way to November, Marshall maintained a safe distance from Audrey. It wasn't difficult, for he and the others were working overtime in an attempt to repair the footings along the west side of the clubhouse. Marshall had double-checked measurements on all of the wooden forms that had been prepared and laid out for the foundation. It wasn't until after the footings had been poured and the laborers had begun to set the beams that he'd discovered the measurements were off. He'd done his best to remain calm, but the loss of time weighed heavily on his shoulders. No one seemed to know what had occurred, but when he went back to closely examine the area, it appeared the forms had been moved at least two inches. In the end, he was the one responsible for mistakes and would need to answer for the delay.

Rather than taking time to make amends with Audrey regarding her father, he'd devoted most of his time to correcting the mishap at the clubhouse. He had tried to speak with her after dinner on a couple of occasions, but she'd been unreceptive. At one point he had considered telling her the truth about her father but had stopped himself. He'd promised Boyd to keep his secret, and he didn't want to break his word—at least not as long as he could abide Audrey's haughty attitude—though he wasn't certain how much longer he'd last. Marshall soon decided that Boyd Cunningham's daughter was as bullheaded as she was beautiful. For the time being he waited, hoping Audrey's icy exterior would begin to melt.

With each passing day, he wondered if he'd made a mistake coming to the island. At first the laborers had been an industrious group, but they'd now become lazy. Without constant supervision, they would sit idle until ordered back to work, for they realized there was a lack of available workers in the area. Dealing with the men as well as being faced with Audrey's cold stares and Thora's barbs about Yankees made him long for life somewhere else. Even arguing with his brothers seemed more bearable than dealing with the issues he now faced each day. And the worrisome delays at the work site haunted him at night.

Except for brief visits with Boyd, it seemed he could find little respite on this island. And if Audrey had her way, he'd be banned from keeping company with her father. However, today he wanted to speak with Frank Baker and see if together they could encourage the men to move with greater speed.

As soon as they finished breakfast and departed for the site, he hurried to catch up with him. “I was hoping to talk with you about the foundation. We've got to keep the men moving or we're going to get so far behind we'll never get back on schedule.”

Frank clenched his jaw. “So I'm not supervising the men to your satisfaction, is that what you're trying to tell me?”

Marshall arched his brows, surprised by Baker's tone. “I didn't say you were to blame or that you lacked the ability to oversee the men, but you'll have to agree that things are falling behind and something needs to be done.”

“You're the one in charge. Maybe you need to look at yourself for answers instead of everyone else.” His lips curled in an angry frown. “If the men aren't working to your standards, maybe it's because they don't respect you. This is the first time I've ever had a problem like this.”

Marshall sighed. “But you do agree there's a problem?”

“You'd have to be a fool not to see the men aren't puttin' in a full day's work unless there's someone watching over them.”

“Well, I'd like to know who was watching over them when they moved the forms and poured those footings on the west side of the building.”

“So now you're accusing me of having the men move the forms, are ya?” Frank slapped a branch away from the path. “You best be careful who you're pointing a finger at, Marshall. If I up and quit, you won't be left with much of a crew. Most of these men would follow me.”

Marshall held his tongue. What he had hoped would be a productive discussion was creating a wedge that could spell even further disaster. Somehow, he needed to smooth the waters. “I trust you and I trust your judgment, Frank. It's because you know these men that I'm asking for your advice. My intent isn't to accuse you, but to ask for your guidance.”

Frank snorted. “Well, since I'm not the project manager, I don't think I'll be giving you any free advice. Mr. Morley decided you're the one who's qualified to hold the title, so you're the one who's going to have to figure things out. Without my help.”

Marshall's frustration reached new heights, and though he didn't want to lose more ground in this battle, he was finding it difficult to hold his temper in check. It was obvious Frank didn't plan to lend him any help with the men. “You're right, Frank. I am the project manager. And you're my assistant. I placed you in charge of the laborers on this job, so here's the situation: Either you get those men moving on this project, or I'll have to consider someone else for the position.”

Frank stopped and folded his arms across his chest. “Maybe you better check with Victor before you make too many threats about what you will or won't do about replacing me.”

His comment carried a challenge that irritated Marshall, but he did his best to remain calm. It would only make matters worse if Frank realized he'd managed to get under his skin. As they entered the work area, Marshall caught sight of several of the men sitting idle.

He waved toward the construction site as he approached them. “I'm only going to tell you men one more time: Either you work during working hours or you catch the next boat to the mainland and look for work somewhere else. No need for us to pay you if you're not going to work.”

A couple of the men nudged each other and snickered. “You ain't gonna find replacements for us over in Biscayne. We're the best you're gonna get.”

Marshall shook his head. “If you're the best I can get, then I can do without you. Either get to work or pack your bags. Those are the only two options I'm giving you.”

The men turned their attention to Frank, who stood only a short distance away. They obviously were waiting for him to give them a sign as to what they should do. When he didn't reply, one of the men stood. “What you got to say 'bout that, Frank? You think we should be packing our bags, or you think we should get back to work?”

Frank removed a pouch of tobacco from his pocket and started to roll a cigarette. “Guess it depends on how bad you need to earn some money. I'm not the one in charge of this construction, and I'm not the one who hands out your pay. You're gonna have to decide for yourself.”

The men appeared baffled by Frank's response and mumbled among themselves before picking up their tools and returning to their duties. Marshall didn't know how long his threat would keep them productive, but at least his warning had gotten them moving. If he had to fire two or three to keep the rest working, so be it. One way or another, he was going to get this project back on schedule.

For the rest of the morning, Frank and all of the laborers remained hard at work. When Marshall headed toward the house several hours later, he held out hope he'd gained the respect of the men and they would continue to perform their assigned duties. Victor had mentioned the possibility of a future putting green, and Marshall wanted to gauge the distance from the construction site to the area the investors had discussed. Though it would be some time before the putting green would come to fruition, it gave Marshall an excuse for a walk before the noonday meal. He needed to assess what the future would hold if he couldn't keep the men motivated and whether he wanted to visit with Mr. Morley or wait to see what would occur over the next few weeks.

He strode down one of the paths leading to the ocean side of the island. During his first week on Bridal Veil, he'd begun taking walks to the coastline and watching the ocean lap onto the shore. The peacefulness had calmed his spirit like nothing else. Perhaps he'd find that same tranquillity today.

He hadn't gone far when he spotted a lone figure walking toward the shoreline. A single gull swooped overhead, landed, and strutted in the sand. Marshall cupped his hand over his eyes and squinted against the bright sun. Once certain the solitary man in the distance was Boyd, he broke into a run.

“Boyd! Hold up.” With nothing but the lapping water to break the stillness, his voice echoed like a ringing church bell.

The older man stopped and turned. He stared for a moment before removing his floppy-brimmed hat and waving it overhead. Panting by the time he reached Boyd's side, Marshall bent forward, rested his palms on his knees, and inhaled several deep breaths.

“What are you doing down here? Something wrong?”

Marshall tipped his head back and detected a hint of panic in Boyd's eyes. He shook his head. “No.” He gulped another breath of air and pushed himself to his full height. “Maybe I should qualify that answer. There's no immediate emergency, but things at the construction site sure aren't what I'd like.”

“More trouble with those footings?” Boyd motioned toward a piece of driftwood not far off. “Think I better sit down for a few minutes. I'm feeling a little weak.”

While Boyd settled himself on the decaying piece of wood, Marshall dropped to the sand. “No more than what I've already told you, but the setback has caused me to fall off schedule.”

Boyd nodded. “I don't doubt that one bit. Any time you have to tear up part of the foundation and start over, you're looking at delays. You're just going to have to keep those men working extra hours if you need too.”

“The workers are the other part of my problem. I can't figure out exactly what's happened with them. They'd been doing good work, but lately I can't depend on them to keep working unless there's a supervisor watching them. And even then, I'm not sure they're working as hard as they should be.” Marshall raked his fingers through his wind-blown hair. “I don't want to sound like I'm pointing a finger, but it seems like ever since Frank took over as assistant, they've been slacking.”

“Have you tried talking to Frank?”

“I've tried, but he's no help. Says I'm the project manager and I need to figure it out on my own.”

Boyd listened while Marshall continued to recount his earlier conversation with Frank. “Sounds like Frank has hard feelings and he's going to undermine you if he gets the chance.” The older man stretched his legs in front of him. “He's probably already swayed the opinion of the men, and that doesn't surprise me. He knows a lot of them, and they'll side with him over a stranger. He figures that if you get too far behind, Victor will fire you and take him on to manage the project. Maybe you ought to have a talk with Victor. Let him know what's going on and see if he's willing to set Frank straight. Might help keep Frank in line if Victor knows he's stirring things up with the men.”

“The thing is, I can't prove he's said anything to the men, and you know both Frank and the men will deny any wrongdoing. For now, I think it might be best to keep Victor out of it. But I plan to keep a sharp eye on how things are going.”

“Better keep a sharp ear on it, too. Those workmen are likely talking among themselves, and you might overhear something that will help you find out if Frank's set his sights on becoming the manager.” Boyd rested his palms on his thighs and pushed to a stand. “You should pray on the matter, as well. The best way to get your answer is through prayer.”

Marshall wasn't certain prayer was needed as much as a new assistant manager, but he didn't express that thought to Boyd. He'd take the older man's suggestion and give prayer a try. He'd be pleased to receive an answer to his dilemma. In the meantime, he'd keep his mouth shut and his ears open.

“Something else on your mind besides the construction?” Boyd took a few steps and motioned him to come along.

Marshall nodded, surprised by Boyd's awareness. “As a matter of fact, there is. Audrey lit into me after we'd been to Biscayne a couple weeks ago. She thinks I'm leading you down the path to destruction.”

Boyd arched his brows. “What? I think I'm going to need a clearer picture of this path you're supposedly leading me down. Exactly what did Audrey say?”

Marshall quickly repeated what he remembered of Audrey's tongue-lashing—which was just about every word she'd said. He'd been mulling her angry statements over and over in his head each night when he tried to go to sleep. “She was like a dog fighting over a bone. Every time I tried to say something, she growled at me. I finally backed off, but it sure bothers me that she thinks I'm resorting to some sort of revenge against you because of my father's death.”

“To tell you the truth, I'm more than a little surprised she'd have that kind of an idea, but she's mighty protective. And frightened. Even though it's been a long time since I've tasted liquor, she still lives in fear that I'll start up again.”