To Love and Cherish (30 page)

Evan didn't appear as surprised as he'd expected, but Evan was levelheaded—a man prone to evaluate and deal with facts rather than offer a quick emotional response. That was one of the many things Lawrence admired about him.

“Do you know how or when?” Evan rubbed his forehead.

“They are planning to assassinate the president sometime during the costume ball on Saturday night. I wasn't given all of the details. Believe me, I would tell you if I knew more.” Lawrence clenched his hands together. “Preston threatened to harm Melinda if I didn't do as he's instructed.”

Evan straightened in his chair. “What do you mean he threatened Melinda?”

“He won't hesitate to do whatever he must to carry out this plan. I'm supposed to be at the side entrance with Midnight Flight
.
The assassin will use the horse to make a quick escape to the dock, where I'm sure they'll have a boat waiting.”

Jumping to his feet, Evan paced the length of the room. “We need some sort of plan to keep Melinda safe and away from Preston during the ball.”

Lawrence nodded. “Exactly. Can you think of a way that you can be present to help protect Melinda?”

Evan glanced heavenward. “It is a costume ball. I'll need some sort of outfit, and I can have Melinda give me one of the invitations that will permit me entry.” He looked straight at Lawrence. “Believe me, Lawrence, I'll do all within my power to keep her safe.”

The dock, draped with red, white, and blue bunting that had arrived only two days ago, provided an atmosphere of gaiety and celebration. Until the specially ordered decorations were delivered, Mr. Zimmerman held Melinda responsible, but once they had arrived, he took credit for the display. She truly didn't care so long as all went well during the president's visit. The Bridal Veil board of directors and visiting guests, along with select members of the staff, greeted President and Mrs. McKinley as they stepped off the boat. Mr. and Mrs. Mifflin were the first to offer a welcome.

Melinda's cheeks warmed with embarrassment when Mrs. McKinley beckoned her forward. She touched the president's arm. “This is the sweet young lady who was so kind to me when I was visiting at Cyrus and Dorothea's home in Cleveland.” She hesitated a moment and then smiled. “Melinda Colson. Did I get your name correct?”

Melinda bobbed her head. “Yes, that's right.” She didn't know if she should bow, curtsy, or extend her hand, but before she could do any of those things, the president grasped her hand and held it between both of his own. “Anyone who has helped my Ida has helped me. I am in your debt, Miss Colson.”

“Oh no, sir. It was my pleasure.” Melinda glanced back and forth between the president and his wife while she backed away from the couple. She prayed no one would do harm to the president. “It is an honor to have both of you visit Bridal Veil Island.”

Following several other introductions, the president made a few brief comments to the crowd. Melinda hoped he wouldn't speak very long, for he was an easy target for any marksman. After a round of applause, President and Mrs. McKinley stepped into the decorated carriage that stood waiting to deliver them to the clubhouse. Even the horses' manes and tails had been embellished with red, white, and blue ribbons. They pranced with heads held high—as if they understood the significance of the event. A procession of horses and buggies carrying guests followed the president's carriage, while staff members followed on foot.

Emma leaned close to Melinda. “You think the president is gonna be safe?”

Melinda nodded, but she wondered the same thing. As they walked behind the carriages, she continued to keep a sharp eye. “I'm praying he will. I know Evan is doing everything he can to make certain nothing happens.”

Emma brushed dust from the skirt of her black uniform. “I'm pleased I was chosen to be one of the first to greet the president, but walkin' behind all these buggies was a foolish idea.”

“Not so loud, Emma.” Melinda glanced toward the hotel supervisor. “This was Mr. Zimmerman's idea.”

Stepping closer to Melinda's side, Emma tipped her head near Melinda's ear. “Well, if he can't use his noggin any better than this, we can be glad he isn't in charge of any other events.”

After checking to see that Mr. Zimmerman had moved beyond earshot, Melinda said, “Well, there is that skit he promised. He hired an outside troupe for the entertainment, but he had one of the seamstresses create a couple of the pirate costumes.”

“Is he having a boat full of sailors brought in for his pirates to capture, or are they only takin' some of the ladies as hostages?” Emma covered her mouth and laughed.

“Goodness, I hope not. I don't think any of the ladies would be amused.”

Emma's comment was enough for Melinda to decide it would be wise to know a little more about Mr. Zimmerman's skit. A formal dinner was scheduled for tomorrow, with the ball to follow afterward. Melinda had no idea when or where Mr. Zimmerman planned to present the skit. Personally, she thought the entire idea peculiar.

Once they returned to the clubhouse, she stepped around several servants and hurried to his side. “Do you have a few moments, Mr. Zimmerman?”

He pressed his lips together. “Is it absolutely necessary, Miss Colson?” Irritation dripped from each word.

She straightened her shoulders. “I believe it is. We need to detail a few of the arrangements for tomorrow night.”

Waving her into his office, he followed and closed the door. “I can't imagine that there is anything left that must be clarified. We've been over the lists several times now.”

“We haven't discussed the skit. I'm confused as to how and where it will take place.”

He rounded his desk and dropped into the chair. “I told you I would take care of the arrangements, and I have. The skit will take place after dinner in the annex dining room.”

“But there won't be—”

He held up his hand. “Let me finish, Miss Colson.” The supervisor leaned forward. “The skit will take place in the annex dining room near the side entrance. I've arranged for a small stage to be placed along the east wall near the doors.”

Melinda frowned. “It would make more sense to have the stage on the north wall away from the doors. Think of the congestion.”

“I want the stage on the east wall.” He cleared his throat and assumed a less strident tone. “The performers can move in and out of the room with less distraction if the stage is along the east wall.”

“It sounds as though this is going to be a longer production than I'd anticipated. I told the musicians the ball would begin following dinner.”

Mr. Zimmerman twisted one end of his mustache. “Why this sudden interest in the skit, Miss Colson?”

“Because it seems like too much activity for one evening, Mr. Zimmerman. I was thinking that it might be better if we had a thespian night on Sunday evening. We could ask the guests if they'd like to perform, and then you could present your skit.” She folded her hands in her lap and forced a smile. “Don't you think that would be better?”

“No, I do not think that would be better. Everything from the actors to the staging is arranged for tomorrow night.” He pushed up from his desk. “There will be no changes. The skit will take place following dinner.” The supervisor circled his desk and strode to the door. “If there's nothing else, I have other matters that require my attention.” He opened the door and waited for her departure.

There would be no further discussion.

With guests using the dining room for their meals, it was impossible to begin decorating until after lunch the following day. Although the centerpieces had been created, there wouldn't be much time to finish the remaining décor. Melinda enlisted the help of as many staff members as possible. The decorations would continue the patriotic theme established at the dock yesterday.

Huge floral arrangements of red, white, and blue flowers contained ivy streamers that Melinda intertwined with colorful ribbons. The ivy and ribbons flowed from the centerpieces down the length of each table. She placed large candles atop pillared stands and surrounded each one with fluffy white netting. Palms in sturdy jardinières were placed throughout the room, each one adorned with silver stars that would twinkle in the candlelight.

“Understated yet beautiful—just like you.”

Melinda swirled around and found herself toe-to-toe with Preston. Taking a quick backward step, she lost her footing and Preston leaned forward to catch her. Melinda glanced at the entrance to the dining room and gasped. Evan stood in the doorway staring at them.

“Let go of me!” she hissed at Preston, who had lifted her to an upright position and was now holding her close to his chest.

He followed her gaze to the doorway and smirked at Evan. “Just helping a lady in distress.”

Evan strode toward them, his fists balled in tight knots and his eyes flashing. “If you have a moment, there's a matter related to work that we need to discuss.” He turned his angry eyes on Preston. “In private.”

“Why, of course.” After an exaggerated bow from the waist, Preston winked at Melinda. “I hope to see you later, Miss Colson.” With a jaunty wave, Preston strode from the dining room.

The muscles along Evan's jaw twitched. “I thought you promised to stay away from him.”

Melinda stiffened at the accusation. “I have stayed away from him, but he walked up behind me. I startled and tripped.” She narrowed her eyes. “If he hadn't caught me, I would have fallen. I hope you don't consider tumbling to the floor a more suitable outcome.”

His features softened. “No, of course not, but if you'd come upon me holding Victoria Polter in my arms, how would you react?”

Her anger faded. “You're right.” She smiled and reached for his hand. “I likely would have assumed the worst.”

He squeezed her hand. “I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions. Forgive me?”

“Yes, and I'm sorry for my angry response. I know you're worried about my safety.”

“You're right—I am concerned. About your safety and about our future together. I love you, Melinda, and want you always near my side. Even though others may try to come between us, I pray that God will keep us faithful to each other. I don't need time to evaluate my feelings, and I pray you have come to the conclusion that it's time we commit to our love.”

She gazed into his eyes. “I had committed, Evan, but when Victoria began to monopolize your time and you wouldn't set a wedding date—”

“Would a date help you to realize my seriousness in marrying you? Is that what this is all about? Is that why you've chosen to believe Victoria Polter rather than me . . . rather than your own heart?”

Guilt plagued Melinda. She'd placed more faith and trust in the words of Victoria Polter than in Evan or, for that matter, God. Instead of seeking God's will for her life, Melinda had been listening to the murmurings of a foolish schoolgirl. In truth, Melinda liked to believe she had placed her trust in God, but she'd taken back control when she departed Cleveland many months ago without seeking His guidance. And though she'd made intermittent attempts to wait upon the Lord for guidance, she continued to snatch back the reins and take control. Only now did she realize her mistake. Now she realized how foolish she'd been with her attempts to make Evan jealous. Now she realized God was giving her another chance. Only time would reveal whether she would fully and completely place her trust in Him for the rest of her life.

“I'm sorry, Evan.” She positioned her hand against his heart. “I don't need a date to know that you will honor your marriage proposal.”

He touched her cheek and smiled. “Is all forgiven between us?”

She nodded. “To be sure.”

Evan grinned. “Then the moment the presidential visit is completed, we'll set a date.”

Not caring if the servants saw her, she tipped back her head, raised up on her toes, and kissed Evan full on the mouth. Heat stole across her cheeks as she gestured around the room. “What do you think?”

“I think I'd like another kiss.”

She giggled and shook her head. “Perhaps later.”

“The room is quite lovely, but it is no match for your beauty.” He grinned down at her. “I'm sure everyone will be amazed at what you've accomplished.” Still holding her hand, he led her away from the maids who were busy arranging the place settings. “Have you heard anything more about this evening?”

Keeping her voice low, she glanced toward workmen carrying a makeshift stage toward the annex. “Emma says there's been nothing more happening upstairs—at least nothing she's detected.” She hesitated a moment. “I wish I could convince Mr. Zimmerman to cancel his skit. It's going to delay the ball, but he insists.”

“It's probably best to accept that he's going to go forward with it. He probably wants one event for which he can take full credit. He likes to impress people, and with all of the investors as well as the president in attendance, he probably considers this a one-time opportunity.”

She shrugged. “You're probably right, but it makes my job all the more difficult.”

“And Preston Powers makes everything more difficult. I want you to keep him at a distance. I don't trust him.” He cupped her cheek in his hand. “Are you certain I couldn't steal a final kiss?”

Melinda glanced toward the workmen and shook her head. “Don't forget that you need to return later this afternoon. Emma will have your costume. It's almost finished.” She grinned. “You'll have to wear a wig, but I thought it would better conceal your identity.”

He chuckled. “And who am I to be?”

“George Washington. I think you'll look quite handsome in breeches, a cape, and a tricorn hat. Emma will have an invitation for you to use if it you need it. The cape can also be used to conceal your face, if you find it necessary.”

He nodded. “You've thought of everything. What about your costume?”

Heat flooded her cheeks. “Martha Washington. I hope you don't object that I'll be dressed as your wife.”

“From the pictures I've seen of Martha Washington, you're far too beautiful to portray her. Still, I'm delighted you chose to attend as my wife.”

“To be your wife has been my choice for a very long time, Evan.”