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Chapter 4

four

“ I s it far to the West Bluff, Aunt Breezy?” Trudy asked. “I might rather like to walk.”

“Walk?” Breezy exclaimed, as if Trudy had said she’d rather fly.

“Yes, I enjoy walking. It increases one’s vitality.”

“It increases one’s perspiration,” Breezy responded dismissively. “Get in the carriage.”

“If you’d rather ride, I’m sure we have a lively mare in the stable eager for some exercise,” Mr. Plank said from astride a dappled palfrey. Trudy’s pulse quickened at the suggestion, but her hopes of riding alongside Mr. Plank and Asher were quickly dashed.

“We haven’t time for that, girl. Get in the carriage,” Breezy snapped. “I want to see what progress has been made on my cottage. Mr. VonMeisterburger is expecting a full report as soon as possible.”

“Why didn’t Uncle Albert come with us from Chicago?” Poppy asked, sitting across from her aunt in the open-topped landau with a securely harnessed Chester VonWhiskerton snoozing in her lap.

“Your Uncle Albert will arrive later in the summer. Unfortunately, your cousin Mortimer won’t be coming at all. Apparently his honeymoon is more important to him than I am.”

Mortimer VonMeisterburger was Breezy’s one and only son upon whom she doted and derided in equal measure. In conversation, he tended to be singularly focused on subjects which interested him alone, but Trudy found him endearing. Perhaps because she was also known to be rather singularly focused.

She was disappointed he wouldn’t be joining them. She would have happily endured his avian-laden tangents about fluffy-backed tit babblers and red-rumped bush tyrants if his presence provided a cushion between herself and his mother who had, earlier that morning, declared Trudy’s sallow complexion would surely benefit from the use of Dr. Campbell’s Arsenic Complexion Wafers , and that a vigorous daily rubbing of her breasts with elderflower water might enhance their lackluster growth.

“Or perhaps a bust food cream,” Breezy had added at Trudy’s dismayed look. “We can order some from the Montgomery Ward catalogue and have it sent to the Imperial straight away. It will come in a brown paper wrapper, and no one need ever know.”

“I do not need bust food cream , Aunt Breezy. I am quite satisfied with my figure,” Trudy had responded sharply.

“Well, you needn’t get tetchy with me, young lady. I am only suggesting that a larger bosom would distract potential suitors from noticing your age and how very tall you are.”

That had brought the conversation to an abrupt halt.

Because Trudy was not old. Nor was she too tall. She was a perfectly acceptable age and a perfectly acceptable height. In fact, it was her advanced years which gave her the wisdom to embrace her stature, knowing that the extra inches gave her more gravitas with patients who might otherwise be reluctant to trust a physician who was just a girl.

Trudy also had no intention of discussing matrimonial prospects with Aunt Breezy because Trudy had no inclination to get married.

Ever.

She’d worked too diligently at earning her medical degree, and too tirelessly at establishing herself as a qualified physician. She was not about to renounce her hard-won achievements in trade for a husband who would undoubtedly demand she forsake her vocation for the blessed opportunity of tending to his home and bearing his children.

No.

Thank you, but no.

It wasn’t that she had anything against husbands conceptually. She just didn’t have a practical use for one of her own. She felt much the same about children, too. She adored her brother and sisters, and upon occasion, did wonder what it might be like to have a family of her own, but Trudy had recognized long ago she lacked the patience and selflessness required to be a good wife, as well as the nurturing, maternal qualities necessary to be a good parent. Trudy’s mother would never have lost Poppy in the chaos of a bustling hotel!

“Have you no care at all for your complexion?” Breezy scolded as Trudy clamored into the carriage and plunked down ungracefully between Poppy and Lucy. “Didn’t you bring a parasol?”

“No,” Trudy said peevishly. And then she turned her face up to the sun and silently begged for freckles.

“I have a parasol,” Coco said demurely, smiling at Aunt Breezy. “And I was hoping you might tell me more about Chicago. Life in Springfield is so dreadfully monotonous. I just know I am destined to live in a big city.”

Whether Coco’s intent had been to distract Breezy for Trudy’s sake, or if she was genuinely interested, the question successfully occupied their aunt for the duration of the scenic carriage ride to the site of the VonMeisterburger’s new summer cottage.

Once there, they disembarked with the aid of a gallant Mr. Plank, and Trudy felt her irritation evaporating like springtime dew. She breathed deeply, inhaling the soul-nourishing scent of pine trees, blossoming lilacs, and fresh cut lumber. Walking to the crest of the bluff and looking out, she found a view of Lake Huron stretching all the way to the horizon, like a painting done in shades of emerald and turquoise as golden sunlight bounced off the smooth surface of the water and dappled the ground through the branches.

To Trudy’s right, along the bluff, sat a long row of building sites, each at the skeleton stage but already hinting at future grandeur as the noisy tap, tap, tap of busy hammers competed with the gentle sounds of rolling waves below and happy birds chirping overhead.

“It’s so serene,” Lucy murmured, coming to stand next to Trudy as she peered out at the beautiful vista.

“Breathtaking,” Trudy responded.

“It’s wasted on her,” Lucy added with a wistful sigh, referring to their aunt. “She won’t appreciate it.”

“Probably not. But we can. At least while we’re here.” Trudy slid an arm around her sister’s waist, enjoying the comradery before abruptly exclaiming, “Oh, good heavens! Where is Poppy?”

“She’s fine. She’s introducing Chester to Mr. Plank.”

“I am the shoddiest guardian imaginable,” Trudy said with a huff before turning away from the lake to walk back toward the others.

“You’re not,” Lucy replied with amusement, following her. “And anyway, isn’t Aunt Breezy supposed to be in charge of her? Of all of us?”

Trudy gave a tiny shake of the head. “Mother bade me to keep an eye on everyone. Including her own sister. I suspect she thinks Aunt Breezy could be a poor influence.”

“I sincerely doubt that.” Lucy reassured her as they walked. “The only one she has any sway over is Coco, and we both know Coco was spoiled long before this trip.”

“That’s true enough. And she’s far too fond of boys.”

“ And she has her eye on Mr. Bostwick,” Lucy whispered.

“Hmm,” Trudy responded vaguely. They’d nearly reached the others and what she wanted to add couldn’t be said in front of anyone but Lucy.

“You’re certain my cottage will be larger than the Bostwick’s, correct?” Breezy demanded as she stared down a short, pug-faced man who, judging from his blunt, misshapen nose, was no stranger to physical altercations. His menacing features did nothing to smooth her aunt’s rough edges.

“I don’t know the square footage of no other houses, ma’am,” he said impatiently. “I ain’t building those ones. I’m building this one.”

“Well, certainly all you building men are acquainted. Can’t you just go and inquire?”

He twisted the tattered, tweed cap in his hands, then looked up gratefully at Mr. Plank who had just stepped forward to join their discussion (if one could call Breezy’s rude interrogation a discussion.)

Trudy gave a chuff of laughter as she realized Poppy was clasping Mr. Plank’s right hand while he held Chester’s leash in the other. Perhaps he and the cat would not need the aid of a pet psychic to make friends, after all.

“How goes it, Davenport?” Mr. Plank asked the visibly flustered man.

“Fine, sir. We’re on schedule, right enough, but Mrs. Von… mer… Von burg…”

“Mrs. VonMeisterburger,” Mr. Plank said.

“Yes, sir. Well?—”

“My cottage needs to be the largest,” Breezy interjected. “It’s the first one people will see when they come up this boulevard and I won’t have it dwarfed by some ghastly monstrosity the Bostwicks aim to build.”

Mr. Davenport stared drolly at Mr. Plank, as if to say, “Do you see what I am up against?”

“Your cottage is sure to be the finest, Mrs. VonMeisterburger,” Mr. Plank said diplomatically. “Like Mr. Davenport, I am also familiar with all these builders. Most of them worked on my fine establishment, and I assure you he’s the very best.”

“Well, of course, I expect the craftsmanship to be of the highest caliber. That goes without saying, but I’m asking about the size,” she said.

Mr. Plank nodded patiently. “Yes, I understand, and while I don’t know the precise measurements of the Bostwick’s cottage, I do have it on very good authority that yours is larger. And,” he leaned forward as if to impart a great truth, “your lot size is bigger. It always will be, and nothing the Bostwicks do can ever change that.”

He followed his comment with a definitive nod of approval and Trudy nearly laughed out loud. It seemed Mr. Plank, like his hotel manager Mr. Beeks, knew just how to coddle her aunt into submission. Trudy could learn a thing or two from them.

“But how much larger?” Breezy asked insistently.

Mr. Plank hesitated for a fraction of a second before stating what was clearly a guess, saying, “Substantially larger.”

“All right then,” Breezy said after a moment, smoothing the hair at her temples. “Carry on then, Davenport, but hurry. If you’re on schedule, as you say, then you can speed things up and finish sooner. I’d like to move in as soon as possible.”

Mr. Plank gave a tilt of the head toward the wilting Mr. Davenport, excusing him, and turned to Breezy. “Mrs. VonMeisterburger, you wound me. Aren’t you happy at my hotel?”

“Of course, Mr. Plank, but I am eager to set up my own household here, as well. You know we’ll still dine at the Imperial most evenings and participate in the activities.”

“Well… If you promise. The hotel would be so drab without the effervescent glow of your company. Now, let’s all take a walk through your cottage to see what’s been done so far.”

Trudy and Lucy exchanged wry glances at his preposterous compliment but Aunt Breezy was practically preening as everyone traipsed across the grass to the steps leading up to a grand porch and the framed doorway of the cottage.

“I would normally say ladies first,” Mr. Plank commented as he paused at the threshold, “but perhaps I should lead the way since it’s an active work site. I’d hate for any of you to take a tumble so please watch your step.”

Breezy nodded, and they followed carefully, one by one, through the construction, dodging loose nails and rough-edged pieces of lumber. Even in its unfinished state, Trudy could see it was the largest home she’d ever been in, including the VonMeisterburgers’ home in Chicago. And that was a mansion! Calling this anything less was a gross misnomer.

In spite of the vast size, or perhaps because of it, Asher quickly grew bored of looking at the exposed trusses and unfinished rooms. He offered to take Poppy back out onto the grass where Chester might sniff to his heart’s content, and Trudy was relieved by their departure given the perilous environment, not to mention the barrage of vulgar expletives currently being shouted by a tool-wielding workman who’d accidentally smashed his own thumb with a hammer. She knew for certain Asher would be repeating that crass language at his first opportunity.

Dear Mother and Father,

On the first day, I lost Poppy, and on the second, Asher learned a dozen new words that you never want him to say.

Meanwhile, Coco kept Breezy engaged by asking about furnishings. There was talk of Aubusson rugs, velvet and brocade draperies, stained glass windows, and furniture pieces by Phyfe, Stickley, Chippendale, and the Herter Brothers. Trudy stopped listening after the first room, not knowing (or much caring about) the difference between an inlaid maple table and a satinwood writing desk. As long as a seat was comfortable, it didn’t matter to Trudy if it was a Queen Anne or a Morris chair. Her uncultured backside certainly couldn’t tell the difference. She was about to excuse herself under the guise of checking on Poppy when the sound of carriage wheels caught their collective attention, and everyone returned to the yard.

It seemed the Bostwicks had arrived unexpectedly, causing a strange and equally unexpected tightness in Trudy’s chest.

She’d enjoyed herself well enough at dinner last night. Jo and Daisy were warm and engaging. Both the Bostwick brothers had been cordial and amusing, and while Trudy had even come to the mature realization that she should give Alexander Bostwick another chance to earn her good opinion, somehow… thoughts of him made her edgy, and his presence here now made her… inexplicably nervous.

She didn’t understand why. There was no reason to be intimidated by him. He was no better—or worse—than any other person she’d encountered throughout her lifetime, and yet, something about the way he’d looked at her last night made her feel… peculiar and uncertain.

It wasn’t an altogether unpleasant feeling… but it was… unfamiliar. Unfamiliar things usually piqued her curiosity and begged exploration, but in this case, she felt avoidance was her better option. Of course, it didn’t help that Coco had waxed poetic about the man for an hour once they’d gotten back to their rooms and were preparing for bed.

Did you notice Alexander Bostwick’s shoulders?

His voice is like velvet.

His hair is so thick. I imagine it’s soft. Do you imagine it’s soft?

Her sister had gone on so long in such pointless rapture that even Lucy, who never got annoyed by anyone, finally told Coco to shush.

And now, here they all were again. The Bostwicks. And they had increased in number, as if there weren’t already too many of them.

Alex and Chase climbed from the carriage first, looking as dashing as expected in casual linen suits which on them looked anything but casual, then down floated Daisy in a pink dotted dress with fringed trim. Behind her was Constance Bostwick, their mother. She did not float. She descended—without moving a muscle if one judged from the ramrod stiffness of her posture. And behind Mrs. Bostwick came a very tall, dark-haired young man who appeared to be close to Lucy’s age, and a sandy-haired, freckle-faced one who could not be more than sixteen.

“My dear Constance,” Breezy said, her voice dripping with faux affection as she walked forward, open arms outstretched. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist seeing what fabulous plans I have for my cottage. How predictable of you to stop by.”

Constance leaned stiffly into the embrace without making any point of contact, responding, “How quaint you are for pretending this was our destination when surely you realize we are merely passing by your bungalow on our way to my own grand villa.”

“Ah, ha, ha, ha,” the women twittered in unison as if their words were laced with humor instead of venom.

It was the first time Trudy had ever considered feeling sorry for her aunt. While Breezy was a bombastic force of nature carving a path toward what she wanted, Constance Bostwick was more an immovable mountain, forcing others to go around. Her tone was calm, her style understated—the kind of understated that proved she had nothing to prove.

“Perhaps I should make a few introductions,” Chase said, stepping forward. “Mother, of course you know Mr. Plank, but allow me to introduce the Hart family, Miss Trudy, Lucy, and Coco Hart, and Mr. Asher Hart. Ladies, gentlemen, this is my mother, Mrs. A.J. Bostwick.”

“Hey,” said Poppy, stomping her foot.

“Oh, I beg your pardon, miss,” Chase continued. “I didn’t have the pleasure of making your acquaintance yesterday. Am I to assume you are Miss Poppy Hart?”

“I am,” she said superciliously, then held up her now resigned cat by the scruff. “And this is my companion, Sir Chester VonWhiskerton.”

Mrs. Bostwick nodded stiffly at Trudy and her siblings with something that could be considered a smile—but that in most cases would not be considered a smile. It was more akin to the way one’s lip quivered before a good sneeze.

“And these are my cousins,” Chase continued. “Ellis and Finn Bostwick, sons of my Uncle Vernon.”

Ellis’s bright blue eyes had gone directly to Coco, although she appeared too occupied with ogling Alexander Bostwick to notice, and Trudy made a mental note to check the location of everyone’s bedrooms back at the hotel to ensure there was no inappropriate nocturnal prowling.

Dear Mother and Father,

On the first day, I lost Poppy, on the second day, Asher learned to cuss, and on the third, Coco was compromised by a Bostwick. Not sure which one.

“Is it just my imagination or do those two hens peck at one another incessantly?” Ellis murmured to Alex with a glance toward the older women.

Alex briefly considered rising to his mother’s defense, but chose against it since his cousin was entirely correct. He chuckled instead and gave Ellis a single pat on the back.

“It’s not your imagination. This campaign they’ve waged against one another has gone on longer than the crusades. Just ignore it, if you can.”

Alex had hung back during Chase’s introductions, in part because everyone knew him, but more because he was still agitated with Breezy VonMeisterburger and the mean-spirited comment she’d made to him. The woman was hard to take in the best of circumstances, and these were certainly not the best of circumstances. In fact, he’d have begged off touring the cottages entirely since he and Chase had gone through them just days before, but Daisy insisted he come along.

She was worried about him. She didn’t say it outright, but it was obvious in the solicitous way she’d taken to asking questions about his interests, and the way she always made sure he had someone to sit next to. It was kind of her, he supposed, but it was also a bit humiliating, having his17-year-old sister attempting to play nursemaid to his wounded emotions.

“I suppose, since I’m here, you may as well show me around,” Alex’s mother said after introductions were concluded. “Of course, my cottage will certainly be finished first, so I know you’ll want to tour mine as well.”

“I suppose I could if it would make you happy,” Breezy responded with indifference, “But I’m sure ours will be finished sooner than yours.”

“Shall we resume the tour then?” Mr. Plank interjected quickly before the ladies could begin a new argument about which cottage would be completed first. “Who would like to join us?”

“I think I’ll take Poppy down to the shore,” Trudy responded, just as quickly. “The cottage isn’t quite safe for her with all the construction going on.”

“I’ll go with you,” Lucy said to her sister.

“To the lakeshore!” Asher shouted, nudging Finn before dashing toward the path. “Race ya,” he called out.

Finn instantly responded, sprinting forward and passing the other boy with ease. Soon they were out of sight over the crest of the hill, but their laughter rang out among the trees.

Ellis, however, had a more nuanced goal in mind. He sidled up to Coco, asking smoothly, “Which direction might you be heading, Miss Hart?”

Alex nearly chuckled because, just as she had at dinner the evening prior, the girl had been casting coy glances his way from the moment they’d arrived. She only now seemed to notice his cousin’s existence—which was surprising given that Ellis was nearly six foot, four inches tall. He was hard to miss.

Coco’s pale blue eyes traveled up Ellis’s lengthy torso until she met his gaze.

She blinked.

And blushed.

“Uh, I… believe I’ll visit the shore,” she stammered.

“Wonderful,” Ellis replied, offering his arm. “Then I’ll escort you. The path may be uneven.”

“Uh… thank you.” Her eyes darted back to Alex for a scant second. He tamped down a smile at her apparent indecision but since he had no intention of deepening their acquaintance, the sooner her interest was diverted the better. It wasn’t vanity that convinced him of her admiration. The girl was not subtle.

Then again, neither was Ellis.

With only Mr. Plank, Breezy, and Constance touring the cottage, Alex and the rest of the entourage ambled down the narrow path leading to the water’s edge. At the back of the pack, Trudy, Poppy, and the cat meandered to and fro apparently looking for flowers and pretty rocks along the way, and he paused to wait for them.

“I see Chester is out for another adventure,” he said.

Trudy’s flickering glance was accompanied by a small, tight smile, and he wondered how two sisters could hold him in such contrary regard. Whatever attraction Coco felt toward him, Trudy was clearly immune.

“Yes. Let’s hope he stays on a leash this time,” she responded.

“Yes, let’s hope. I’ve no interest in trying to rescue him from a tree.”

“He’ll behave today,” Poppy stated with confidence. “I had a very stern talk with him last night about proper manners.”

“Ah, well. That should do the trick,” Alex said, smiling at Trudy over the little girl’s head. Her expression relaxed—a little.

“Poppy, come see!” Lucy called out excitedly a moment later. “I may have found a Petoskey stone.”

Poppy gave a gasp of excitement, promptly scooping up the allegedly obedient cat and scampered toward the lake.

At her departure, Alex heard a small sigh from Trudy—whether one of exasperation or relief, he wasn’t certain. He looked over to see she’d removed her hat and was casually swinging it from one hand by its ribbons. The sun had pinkened her cheeks and the ever-present breeze over the lake was doing a delightful job of stirring loose tendrils of hair around her face.

He probably shouldn’t notice such things. He was a grieving widower, after all, and had more than enough drama in his life at present, but he found her uniquely pretty with chestnut colored hair and hazel eyes that appeared nearly green in the sunlight. She was willowier than what was currently considered fashionable— although who decided such things, he certainly didn’t know— and there was something undeniably delicate in the way she plucked a flower from beside the path and examined it in her fingertips.

They walked a moment in silence, until she finally said, “It does seem I owe you a debt of gratitude, Mr. Bostwick. Thank you for helping my sister recapture Chester yesterday.”

He was warmed by her words even if it was a most tepid attempt at gratitude. “Of course. It was my pleasure, although the wounds on my hand might suggest otherwise.”

She looked over at him with concern. “Oh, goodness. Did he scratch you? I’m sorry. I may have an ointment to remove the sting.”

“His opinion on the subject of recapture did leave a mark,” Alex replied with a chuckle. “But I hardly blame him. I would feel much the same in his predicament, and I’ll recover. I have a brother, you know. I’ve suffered far worse, and far more deliberate injuries.”

A subtle blush deepened the hue of her already pink cheeks. “Well… I am sorry, and I do thank you.”

“You are most welcome. Truthfully, I enjoyed the adventure.”

Her expression shifted to bemusement. “Then you have an unusual sense of fun, Mr. Bostwick. I can think of a great many things more entertaining than wrangling a cat.”

He laughed at her observation, and at the fact that she was finally conversing with him.

“As can I, Dr. Hart, but yesterday’s adventure did have a certain originality to it, and your sister was a delightful hunting guide.”

“Oh, that girl,” Trudy scoffed, shaking her head. “She was not supposed to bring the cat on this trip.”

“She mentioned that.”

“Did she?” At his nod, she continued as they walked. “Did she also mention stuffing him into a pillowcase—and then into a carpetbag—to smuggle him onto our steamship? I cannot imagine how he got enough oxygen. The poor fellow nearly asphyxiated, and what an ordeal that would have been!” She shook her head again, but he sensed the slightest hint of amusement in her tone at the absurdity of it all.

“My goodness. No wonder he jumped from the wicker basket at his first opportunity,” Alex concurred. “But at least if he encounters Mr. Plank’s pet psychic, Chester will have a fascinating tale to tell.”

With an easy shrug, she replied, “I suppose that would’ve been true whether he’d survived the trip or not.”

Then she laughed, and Alex found the sound of it delightful. Perhaps Dr. Hart was not nearly as serious-minded as he’d thought.

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