To Honor and Trust (9 page)

“You're a little early, but we can use the extra time to visit.” He reached for the handlebars of her bicycle.

“I'm not staying, Mr. Penniman. I came by to tell you that you could remove Thomas from your schedule for this afternoon. I must get back to the cottage, or we'll be late for his golf lesson.”

She lifted her foot to the pedal, but Archie maintained a hold on the handlebars. “I hadn't heard anything about Bobby McLaren returning to the island. Who's giving lessons?”

Callie hesitated, realizing she still didn't know the instructor's last name. “His first name is Wes, but that's as much as I can tell you. I'm sure Mr. Nusbaum could answer your questions.” She glanced at his hand. “I really must go or we'll be late.”

“I'm disappointed I won't see you this afternoon. I was hoping you would agree to spend the evening with me. Some of the employees are going over to the beach. There will be a bonfire, and we could get to know each other a little better.”

“I'm afraid I couldn't, Mr. Penniman. My evenings are usually filled with caring for the Bridgeport children or other family activities. My duties go beyond that of a regular work schedule.”

“But surely you must have some free time. Don't the children have a nurse to help care for them?”

Callie placed her foot back on the ground. “How did you know that?”

“I-I didn't know it to be a fact, but most of these rich folks have got a servant to take care of everything from shining the silver to laying out their clothes, isn't that right?”

“I'm sure it depends on each household, Mr. Penniman. Now, if you'll turn loose of my handlebars, I really must be on my way.”

He tipped his head to the side and smiled. “You never did answer my question. You must have a bit of free time for some fun.”

“I never know in advance, Mr. Penniman. Other than during Thomas's lessons, I don't think we'll be seeing each other.”

“And during your lessons—let's don't forget that you're supposed to learn the game as well as your young charge.”

“We'll see, Mr. Penniman. Now, if you would please remove your hand?”

He released his hold on the bike. “I'm doing as you asked, but not because it's what I'd like.”

She rode off before he could think of some other way to delay her. Perhaps he thought his forward attitude was the way to win a girl's heart, but she found his behavior unnerving.

“Where have you been all day?” Daniel strode into Wesley's room with a frown as sour as his tone of voice.

Still holding his black tie in one hand, Wesley stepped back to the mirror. “Good evening to you too, Daniel.”

His brother stepped behind him and looked into the mirror. “You didn't answer my question. Where have you been all day? Mother's been worried.”

Wes positioned his tie beneath the wing-tipped shirt collar. “I'm twenty-five. I don't think Mother or any of the rest of you need to worry about my whereabouts. However, if it will set your mind—or hers—at ease, I've been at the golf course.”

Daniel turned away and dropped onto the brocade sofa. “I knew it. I told Father I was sure we could find you at the golf course.”

“I thought Mother was the one concerned about my whereabouts.”

Daniel folded his arms across his chest and glared at Wes, looking much like an irate parent. “We were all concerned. Mother realized you were missing when Father inquired if
anyone had seen you. Father had hoped to have you sit down with us so that we could discuss your new position.”

Wesley sighed. “I've told all of you that I have no desire to become a manager in the mills. What must I do to make him understand that I have no passion for business?”

“Passion? Come on, Wes. We're talking about a job—you know, work. A place where we earn money to live in this manner. And don't argue that you don't have a head for business. It's not as though the rest of us completed college and were prepared to assume our positions. It will take a bit of time for you to become acclimated, but eventually you'll adjust.” Daniel traced his fingers along the fabric of the brocade sofa. “Charles and I agree that so long as you continue to avoid coming into the business, you are playing with fire. He wants to continue to grow, and he has promised the investors that he has the right person to lead us forward in this expansion.”

“Well, that certainly wouldn't be me. You and Charles have what it takes to work in the mills. I don't.”

Daniel frowned. “You could learn if you wanted to. Besides, Father is losing patience.”

Wesley turned to face his brother. “I think Father is capable of speaking for himself. You and Charles may be older than me, but I don't need the two of you conspiring about my future.”

“We're not conspiring. We're trying to help you.”

“When I want help, I'll ask. Your time would be better spent helping your wives and children.”

“Listen, Wes, you need to accept your lot in life. You had your chance to go off and do as you wanted, but if you're not going to practice medicine, it's time to contribute.”

Wes sat down on the arm of the couch. “Tell me, Daniel,
didn't you ever have a desire to do anything other than step into the family business?”

His brother's features softened. “Yes. As a matter of fact, I wanted to be a sailor, but Father pointed out the folly of such a decision.”

“Why was it folly? If that's what you wanted to do with your life, you shouldn't have given in to what Father wanted.”

Daniel shook his head. “Going off to sea was no more than a young man's dream. I soon realized Father was right. And you'll do the same if you don't want to ruin your standing within the family. There's a real need for you to help with the business. You're a grown man, and it's time to put aside your selfish desires and focus on what's good for the entire family.”

A surge of anger swelled within Wesley's chest. He stood and turned away from his brother before he said something he might regret. Why did all of them think they knew what he should do with his life? And why was he considered selfish if he didn't join the family business?

“Personally, I think you should have at least tried going to sea. If you're completely honest, I'm sure you still wonder what you might have encountered if you'd followed your instincts.”

Once again Daniel eyed him with disdain. “Taking my position with the mills was expected of me—just as it was expected of Charles and is now expected of you. The time has come to settle down, take a wife, and assume your position with the company.”

“I've heard that tale enough times, Daniel. You can stop repeating it.” He buttoned his white waistcoat and straightened the lapels of his black swallow-tail coat. “Let's go downstairs and join the family.”

“You might consider the fact that Father would like to look toward retiring from the business and enjoying the fruits of his labor. You know, traveling and such. If you'd step up, he and Mother could relax a bit.”

Wes didn't rise to the bait Daniel tossed at him, though he hadn't before heard this argument about his father wishing to retire. If it was true, why expand? Still, the thought that his unwillingness to join his brothers in the family business might hamper his father's retirement pricked his conscience.

Although he wasn't looking forward to the ball, Wes headed to the door. Anything would be more pleasant than arguing with his brother. They stepped outside the room as his parents were departing their suite. His mother wore a peach gown and matching mask. Tiny feathers were attached to the mask and appeared to wave at him as she approached.

“I have a mask for you, too, Wesley.” She smiled and handed him a black mask embellished with several rows of black and gold cording. “This one is quite nice, isn't it? I had my milliner create masks for the entire family before we left home. She's such a talented woman.”

His father nodded toward the stairs. “Daniel and I will meet you downstairs.”

“Oh yes. It's better we don't all appear together. Someone will immediately guess who we are. Wesley and I will follow in a few minutes.” His mother gestured for him to put on the mask. “Let's see if it needs any adjustment.”

He placed the mask over his head and pulled it down until he could see through the eyeholes. It covered more of his face than he'd anticipated. “It's rather large, don't you think?”

“The idea of a masked ball is to hide your identity, Wesley.” His mother patted his arm and spoke in the placating tone
she'd used when he'd been a young boy unwilling to follow instruction.

“Since I know very few people, I think I could go without a mask and not be recognized.”

Though he thought the idea of a masked ball a bit of silliness, he knew he wouldn't win an argument with his mother. In her estimation, a masked ball could only be outdone by a full costume ball. And she'd already lamented the fact that they wouldn't be wearing costumes for the first formal gathering of the season.

She tapped her fan against the front of his stiff white shirt. “If you would spend more time with us, you'd become acquainted. The rest of us have already met many of the regular guests staying here at the clubhouse as well as some of those who have cottages on the island.” She gave the fan an extra tap against his shirt. “I might add that I've discovered there are a number of lovely, eligible young ladies who would be pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Wesley's shoulders stiffened at her final remark. “I have no more interest in striking up an acquaintance with one of these socialites than I do in taking a position in father's business.” When her lips trembled, he leaned forward and brushed a kiss on her cheek. “No need for tears, Mother. You have three children who have married and two of them have given you grandchildren.”

“And I want to see you just as happy as my other children.”

Wes cleared his throat and pointed toward the stairs. He didn't think his brothers and sister were particularly happy with their lives. If so, they hadn't revealed it to him. In fact, they appeared fairly miserable, but he couldn't say such a thing to his mother.

She grasped his arm. “Let's go downstairs. I'm sure you're going to discover some beautiful young lady who will be thrilled to dance with you.”

Wes touched his index finger to his mask. “I won't be able to distinguish who is beautiful and who isn't.”

“You may not be able to see their faces, but it won't be difficult to discover which ones have excellent manners and the ability to converse. Outward beauty is a benefit, but inward beauty is of greater importance.”

They descended the final steps, and Wesley escorted his mother to the doorway of the ballroom. “You are right, Mother. If you will excuse me, I shall see if I can strike out and find a woman of inward beauty.”

Before his mother could protest, Wesley made his way toward the edge of the dance floor, carefully weaving around small groups of visiting men and women. After locating a quiet spot beside the doors leading to the outdoor gardens, he surveyed the room. If he remained along the fringes of the dance floor, perhaps after an hour or so he could sneak up the back stairs without being missed. If good fortune was with him, his family members would remain at a distance.

He'd been standing near the doorway for only a short time when a lady drew near. Her sagging jowls, crooked fingers, and thin, wrinkled skin were sure signs she was old enough to be his grandmother.

She smiled and nodded toward the dance floor. “You should be out on the dance floor creating fond memories with a young woman.”

His mother caught his eye as he glanced across the room. His stomach clenched when she gestured toward a group of young girls at the end of the room. If he didn't do something,
she'd likely march across the room and give him explicit instructions.

Wesley extended his hand to the elderly woman beside him. “Why don't you and I go out on the dance floor? I don't know if we'll create any memories, but I'll do my best to stay off of your toes.”

She clasped a veined hand to her bosom. “You want to dance with me? I'm an old woman.”

Wesley laughed and took her hand. “It would be my honor to dance with you.”

They'd made only one turn on the dance floor when his partner said, “We're not supposed to give away our identity, but I think wearing these masks is pure silliness. It's a wonder someone hasn't fallen down and broken a bone or two. By the way, I'm Margaret Willoughby.”

“I thought our identity was supposed to be a secret.”

“Oh, stuff and nonsense. If I want to introduce myself to my dance partner, I'll do so. Besides, my late husband invested enough money in this island that they don't dare say a word to me.” She tipped her head back and laughed like a young debutante enjoying her first ball. “But you need not worry. I won't insist upon knowing your name because I'd likely forget by morning.”

She continued to laugh at her own humor, and Wes couldn't resist joining her. He thought her delightful as she regaled him with stories about the early days on the island. “Nowadays I'm pleased to pay a young fellow to pedal me around the island in my
chaise roulante
.”

Wes raised his eyebrows. “Truly?”

She chuckled. “There are several in use on the island—the club even rents out a few—but mine is special. My husband had
it specially made for me. You'll have to come see it someday. Have you ever seen one?”

“I don't believe I have,” Wes said.

“It's a huge wicker chair with wheels on each side and a small wheel at the front end. The rear portion of a bicycle had been attached behind the wicker chair. That's where the young man sits and pedals. It's quite comfortable for me, because I don't have to pedal.” She leaned close as he circled near the musicians. “I'm not so sure the young man enjoys it near as much as I do. I'm certain he's exhausted by the time we return to the clubhouse.”

“I doubt he is tired at all. You are as light as a feather, Mrs. Willoughby.”

“And you, young man, know how to flatter a woman.” She sighed as the music came to an end. “I do believe I need to sit down for a bit.”

Wesley escorted her back to a chair near the doors. “May I get you something to drink?”

“I don't want to take advantage of your time, but I would be grateful for a cup of that terrible punch they're serving.” She shook her head. “You would think with the amount of money they pay the chef, he'd learn to prepare a proper punch, wouldn't you?”

Wes chuckled. “Indeed I would. I'll see if I can locate something that might be more to your liking.”

After requesting a glass of lemonade for Mrs. Willoughby, Wes surveyed the room. He narrowed his eyes and watched his father, who appeared to be in deep conversation with another gentleman. A young woman, likely the man's daughter, stood nearby. Without warning, the three of them turned to look at him. For the first time that evening, he was thankful to be
wearing a mask. Perhaps they hadn't seen him staring in return. Once the waiter returned with his order, Wes breathed a sigh of relief and zigzagged through the crowd, carefully balancing Mrs. Willoughby's drink.

“Thank you, dear boy. Lemonade is my favorite—how did you know?”

“Just a guess. I wanted to avoid bringing you a cup of that horrid punch.”

He glanced over his shoulder and inhaled a deep breath. The musicians were preparing to play their next selection, and his father, along with the gentleman and young woman, was heading toward him. Without a doubt, his father was bringing the young woman to meet Wesley with the hope that he would consider her a suitable candidate for marriage. And with her lemonade in hand, he couldn't very well sweep Mrs. Willoughby back onto the dance floor.

There was little time to waste if he was going to avoid being drawn into his father's plot—and that's exactly how he'd come to think of his family's resolve to find him a wife—a calculated plot to control his life. He scanned the surrounding area for another elderly woman, but the only one he could locate was using a cane. He doubted she'd agree to take to the dance floor. With his entourage in tow, Wesley's father was steadily advancing toward him.