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Bridget of Cat's Head Point (Great Lakes Romances) (Volume 6)

By Donna Winters

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CHAPTER 1
South Manitou Island
June 30,1899

The scent of citronella hung heavy in the air on the front porch of the Steffens cottage while Bridget waited for someone to answer her knock at the screen door. The pleasant conversation and quiet laughter of the young people inside who had come to summer on South Manitou drifted to her.
Within moments her new friend, Anna Steffens, opened the door. Her thick, brunette hair was fastened in a neat French twist, her dusty rose dimity dress nipped in at a waist so tiny, Bridget might have been jealous. But she had long since abandoned the pursuit of the wasp waistline.
Anna’s wide smile welcomed her. But who was that extraordinarily tall, dashing, strawberry blond fellow who had approached Anna from behind?
“Bridget, do come in. I’d like you to meet my cousin, Erik Olson. Erik, Miss Bridget Richards.”
Bridget offered her hand. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Olson.”
He bowed and kissed her hand, holding it a moment longer than propriety allowed. The warmth of his touch penetrating her cotton mesh glove coupled with his attractive smile made her melt a little inside. Perhaps Anna hadn’t been exaggerating earlier, when she’d described her cousin as “a real charmer” and insisted Bridget come to her party.
“The pleasure is mine, Miss Richards. Would you care for some refreshment?”
Before Bridget could answer, a maid approached with a tray of beverages. Erik took a glass of lemonade from it and placed it in Bridget’s hand. How had he known she preferred it over the wine also being offered?
“Shall we go to the back porch? There’s a pleasant breeze there, and it’s a little quieter for conversation.”
“I’d like that.” She allowed him to guide her through the front room where one of the fellows was cranking up the phonograph while couples paired off for the two-step. When they had settled on wicker chairs, he sipped from a lemonade glass that was waiting for him on the small table between them. There, also, were etched silver candy and nut dishes. Bold blue, green, and yellow crepe paper swags stretched from each corner of the room to the lantern hanging from the center, lending the occasion a festive mood Bridget hadn’t yet caught. Her gaze returned to Erik and his entrancing blue-gray eyes.
He set aside his lemonade. “Anna says you live at the light station year ’round. It must be quiet on an island like this, except for the summer people.”
“It’s different from the mainland, if that’s what you mean. There, you can find churches, and ministers, and doctors. South Manitou has none of those things.” Mention of doctors and ministers brought to mind the loss last week of her dearest friend, Meta, due to diabetes, and a sadness Bridget was desperately hoping to escape by coming to this party. Yet despite her attempt to relax, Meta’s motherless two-year-old Michael, whom Bridget had cared for during Meta’s long illness and was caring for still, was never far from her mind. Was he sleeping soundly tonight in his grandmother’s care?
“Have I said something wrong? You look as though you’ve just lost your best friend.” Erik’s words recaptured Bridget’s attention.
She couldn’t explain how true they were. He had no acquaintance with Meta or Michael. Disease and death were hardly the fodder for party conversations. Focusing on his easy smile, she offered one of her own. “Pardon my wandering mind, Mr. Olson. I was just thinking of the differences between the mainland and the islands.” Quietly, she continued. “To tell you the truth, I think my time has come to leave this island. I’d like a position as a nanny on the mainland. I’ve written a letter of application, but it’s too soon to expect a reply.”
Why had she said that? No one, not even her own mother and sisters, knew of the letter she had mailed to the Ferrises in Traverse City, with whom she was seeking employment. Had Erik put her so at ease that she would divulge the most carefully guarded secret of her life?
Erik’s brows rose. “You’re looking for work on the mainland?”
Bridget nodded, a finger to her lips. “Please keep this between us. I haven’t told another soul—not even my own mother.”
“You can trust your secret to me.” He spoke reassuringly, his wicker chair creaking as he leaned her way. “In fact, it’s a remarkable coincidence that I just might be able to help you. My parents own a resort at Omena. They opened it last year, and it was so successful, they’ve expanded it for this season. They’re still looking for nice young ladies like you for a few positions—a scullery maid, laundress, and a chamber maid who likes young children and can help with entertainment for them, if need be.”
“Someone who likes children?” Bridget asked a little louder than she had intended, then clapped her hand over her mouth.
Erik grinned. “I’m going there tomorrow to help my folks for the season. You’re welcome to come with me. The job is yours, if you want it.”
Bridget’s heart fluttered. Erik’s offer was an answer to her prayer. “Oh, yes, Mr. Olson! I want the job!”
Erik smiled and offered his hand. “Then it’s a deal.”
“A deal.” She placed her hand in his firm grasp.
A harsh male voice intruded from the doorway. “Bridget!”

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