Bitterroot Lake Alicia Beckman (highly illogical behavior .TXT) 📖

some other of God’s wild creatures? I do not fear temptations of the sort she faced, although I well know that loneliness can lead a woman—or a man—into foolish choices. I shall not be lonely, even without the bustle of Deer Park or my women’s club.

I do have the Model T safely stored in the carriage house, if necessary, and I am an excellent driver—Con brags about me to his friends, who doubt their wives could manage—but the road is challenging at best, and treacherous more often than not. There is talk about the lumber company deeding the land to the state for an official highway, as the blasting and grading needed to extend it in a fashion suitable for automobiles would be terribly expensive. Many in Deer Park advocate for this, but Con urges caution—we must be prepared for the changes a year-round road would bring.

Sarah’s eyes sped over the rest of the entry, as Caro described the family’s plans for the summer, including the high-walled tents Con had found for the guests they hoped would join them for two weeks in July, although naturally her sister and her family would stay in the lodge.

But what caught her eye was the reference to her women’s club. The society?

She took another sip of wine—Holly had made some good finds in Deer Park’s state liquor store. One more benefit of the changes in town. That reminded her of Holly’s idea that Janine reopen the vacant restaurant space. Though the building hadn’t been a hotel for decades, the location was ideal for tourist traffic, by car, foot, or boat.

Then, in midsummer 1922, this.

Over sherry after dinner, we spoke of H. He’s laid out his demands to complete the deal. Con is reluctant; he is convinced that long-term success depends on holding the land and managing the timber. But it has taken this long to force the man to relinquish his interest, and if this is what it takes …

The H of the early entry, whose “beastly” behavior had triggered the Laceys’ departure? And what deal was Caro referring to?

Mysterious, but delicious, to eavesdrop on her great-grandmother’s most personal thoughts.

“Oh,” she said out loud. “What if she wrote about …” She flipped forward, turning pages until she found the date she was searching for, two weeks before the earliest thank-you note, in February 1924.

Well, we have done it. We have made our first loan, to the Norwegian woman whose home and most of her belongings were destroyed by fire. I know there are some in town who say she deserved her fate, being willing to live with a man to whom she was not married. That is for God to judge, not us. I only wish the sheriff had been willing to arrest the man, but he said it is not arson to destroy one’s own property, even if it is also the home of another, and that the woman had no legal right to the structure, in truth little more than a shack. Who owns the property now that that wicked man has left town, I cannot say, but we could not let the woman starve or go without a roof over her head.

I do not know whether we will be repaid. The possibility does not worry me—the amount was small. My biggest concern is that word spread only to those in genuine need, women of good character but unfortunate circumstances, and not become general knowledge. There will be men who oppose us, who criticize us for being too modern, and I fear such talk would keep women from seeking our help. That’s why it’s so important that Fanny, Mrs. O’D, and Mrs. Burke are part of our efforts; too many women in need would never dare speak to someone they view as above them, but would speak freely to a housekeeper or another woman who works to support herself.

Holly had wondered how much Con knew about the loans. “What do you think?” Sarah asked Bastet. “Even if she used her own money, they seem to have been quite close.” And from her comments in that first journal entry about his refusal to tolerate “beastly” behavior by another man to a young servant, and that he trusted his wife with the Model T, it seemed clear that Cornelius McCaskill had shared his wife’s “modern” views.

“We” could refer to the household staff. But a society implied more than that, didn’t it?

She flipped forward, scanning for other mention of the loans. Here it was, a simple note, two weeks later.

Our faith and our money have been repaid. What a relief.

The next few entries focused on the children, then the subject returned to the loans.

Mrs. Smalley thinks our club should join the state federation, but the rest of us have voted her down. It does us no good to be so public with our mission. I am happy to keep the Lakeside Ladies’ Aid Society—

The society. And Mrs. Smalley—Becca’s great-grandmother?

—a private endeavor. Heaven knows Deer Park has plenty of other clubs for other purposes. The Medical Auxiliary has been spreading word of new treatments and fund-raising for a local hospital, and the Ladies’ Literary Society is soliciting funds for a library. I am on both committees. There is even a mah–jongg club. Con thinks I should cut back on my outside commitments and let others raise their hands and voices, and perhaps he is right. But wealth carries responsibilities.

Some things never change, Sarah thought, recalling similar conversations with Jeremy.

The clock struck midnight. She closed her eyes and rolled her shoulders back, careful not to rouse Bastet, queen of the sharp claws. God, she was tired. But Holly had guessed right. She didn’t want to risk another nightmare. She blinked, clearing her eyes, and focused her attention on the pages, skimming accounts of house parties, the children, of Fanny the Nanny becoming engaged to a lumber company accountant. “Beware!” Caro joked. “That’s what I did and look what happened!”

Then she reached the end of the journal,