Free Making Waves by Lorna Seilstad Page B

indication either way. He motioned to her approaching father. “You should probably rest after your busy day – cycling. Your father and I have some personal business. If you’ll excuse us.”
    She gave him a weak smile. “Gladly.”
    Making it into the haven of her tent, she dropped on the bed and heaved a sigh.
    The tent flaps flew open and Lilly breezed in.
    Marguerite jolted and pressed her hand to her chest. “You scared the life out of me.”
    “Expecting someone else in your tent?”
    “Heavens no!”
    Lilly giggled, then paused and eyed the skirt. “Where did you get that?”
    “It’s a long story, and right now I just want a nap.” She flopped back on the bed and closed her eyes.
    “Uh-uh-uh.”
    Marguerite moaned and opened one eye.
    Lilly waved her finger in the air. “No rest for you. Mr. Roger called on your parents while you were out playing and asked for you to join him at a dance at the pavilion tonight.”
    “Tonight? But I just saw him. He didn’t say anything.”
    “He didn’t need to.” Lilly lifted Marguerite’s foot and began to untie her boot. “Your mother accepted on your behalf. Then she ordered me to get your pink ball gown ready.”
    Marguerite moaned. “I hate that dress almost as much as I do the idea of dancing with him.”
    “It’s a perfectly fine dress. You just don’t like it because she does.” She dropped the boot to the floor with a thud. “So, how’d your first day go?”
    Marguerite threw her arm over her face. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
    “That bad?”
    She sat up and rubbed her brow with her palm. “It’s complicated. We were in the workshop all morning. Trip says Mark has to learn about boats before he can sail.”
    “Makes sense to me.”
    “It would.”
    “Now, don’t go getting sore with me.” Lilly gathered the frilly pink dress from the chair. “Are you both gonna go back?”
    Marguerite stood and slid out of the borrowed skirt, then shucked the Turkish pants and the shirt. “You don’t understand, Lilly. I have to go back. I want this more than anything.”
    “Right now you’d better want a washbasin. You’re starting to smell like Mark.” She gave Marguerite a shove in the general direction of the washbasin and picked up the discarded skirt. “So, are you gonna tell me where this skirt came from?”
    Heat rushed up Marguerite’s neck. “I sort of borrowed it.”
    “You stole it!”
    “I just needed something to cover up my cycling outfit before Roger saw me.” She glanced at the skirt. “Can you take it over to the Grahams’ camp and ask them if it blew off their line?”
    Shaking her head, Lilly sighed. “I hope the Lord’s already telling you He expects you on the front pew this Sunday, Miss Marguerite, ’cause I know I do.”

    Preparing for the evening took over an hour and a half. While Lilly returned the skirt, Marguerite dressed in the overly lacy, high-necked pink gown before securing her hair in a topknot.
    “Ooooh, I can’t get this to look right.” Marguerite relinquished the tortoiseshell comb to Lilly, who’d arrived in time to get the tresses to cooperate.
    “It looks fine. Now stop fidgeting.” Lilly placed a hand on Marguerite’s shoulder as she tucked the jeweled comb in place. She added a few more pins to the twist and adjusted the springy curls at the nape of Marguerite’s neck before declaring her mistress ready.
    Marguerite stood and tugged at the cap sleeves on the gown. “These sleeves just don’t lay right. Maybe I should put on the blue dress.”
    “Why do you care? You don’t want to impress Mr. Gordon anyway.”
    “Lilly, hush. He might hear you.” She drew on a white kidskin opera glove and attempted to do up the tiny pearl buttons.
    Lilly gently nudged her hand out of the way and hooked the buttons through the hoops with ease. “And it would be a good thing if he did. You should have told him the truth ages ago.”
    “But Mother . . .”
    Lilly shook her head.