Robin Lee Hatcher (34 page)

“There is nothing we can do for you until after the election, Mr. McKinley. I’m sorry.”

Before Morgan did something he would regret — something that would get him tossed into the jail one floor below — he chose to mumble a hasty farewell and leave the commissioner’s chambers. When he exited the municipal building, he paused on the sidewalk long enough to draw a calming breath.

Harrison Carter was lying. There was no reason for Morgan’s various permits to be delayed. Certainly not because of the mayoral election. Something else was behind the county commissioners’ actions, but for the life of him, Morgan couldn’t perceive what it was.

He reached his automobile that was parked on the west side of the sandstone building. Fagan Doyle, Morgan’s business manager and good friend, leaned against the back of the car, his pipe clenched between his teeth.

“Well?” Fagan said, cocking an eyebrow.

Morgan shook his head.

“Then I’ll be asking what it is you mean to do about it?”

“I don’t know yet.”

Morgan got behind the wheel of the Model T while Fagan moved to the crank. Once the engine started, Fagan slid into the passenger seat and closed the door. Morgan turned the automobile north, thankful that his friend didn’t ask more questions. He needed to think.

Occasional complications and delays were expected when a man undertook a building project, but these problems felt different. Earlier, Morgan had wondered if Harrison intended to ask for money under the table, but that hadn’t happened. Just as well since Morgan wasn’t the sort to bribe public officials nor to be blackmailed by them. Not under any circumstance.

Twenty minutes later, the Model T Ford arrived on the grounds of what would one day be a unique resort — the New Hope Health Spa. The main lodge was beginning to take shape at the upper end of the compound. Morgan no longer needed to study the architectural renderings to imagine what it would look like when finished.

He wished his mother had lived to see it. This spa had been her dream before it became his.

When the automobile rolled to a stop and the engine ceased its puttering, Fagan looked at Morgan. “The good Lord hasn’t brought you this far only to fail. Keep the faith, my friend.” He opened the door and stepped out. “I’ll be checkin’ with the foreman now.”

Keeping the faith. At times, that was easier said than done.

Morgan leaned his forehead against the steering wheel and closed his eyes. “Lord, we could use a bit of help here.” He drew a deep breath. “And if you’re not in this, it’s worthless anyway.” He whispered an amen, then exited the automobile.

His gaze was drawn once again to the lodge. Four stories tall, the exterior was made of logs, giving it a rugged, western look. But the interior would be anything but rugged. The plans called for fine wall coverings, elegant carpets, original artwork to satisfy the senses, and large, comfortable rooms for their future guests. The kitchen would have all the latest innovations where a chef could provide meals that were both healthful and delicious.

On the opposite side of the clearing from the lodge, work had begun on the bathhouse and the two pools that would be fed by the natural hot springs. The bathhouse would be fashioned after some of the European spas Morgan had visited with his mother — private bathing rooms with large, porcelain tubs and two steam rooms, one for men and one for women. But there would be one major difference between New Hope and those European spas and their American counterparts. Morgan’s spa would be a place for prayer as well as for relaxation, a place for both spiritual and physical healing.

“What good is physical health,” Danielle McKinley had often said to her son, “if one’s soul is sick?”

Morgan believed his mother was right. Enough so to invest a considerable amount of his own money into making her dream become a reality.

He frowned, his thoughts returning to Harrison Carter. Whatever the man’s reasons for complicating the completion of New Hope Health Spa, Morgan would not allow him to succeed.

Watch for
A Vote of Confidence
, Spring 2009

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