A Daughter's Inheritance by Tracie Peterson, Judith Miller

shoulder.
    Mr. Warnoll’s hearty chuckle filled the room. “I’ll see to it. I don’t want your mother coming in here and giving me a lecture on how to cut a proper lamb chop.”
    Michael waved to Mr. Hungerford as he passed the plumbing and tinware store and offered greetings to several men visiting outside the Hub Café with Mr. Grapotte, the owner.
    “My condolences to you folks. I’m sure things will be different now that Mr. Broadmoor’s passed on.” Mr. Grapotte stroked his whiskers and shook his head.
    “I suppose they will,” Michael replied. He didn’t intend to tell others that today was the first he’d known of Mr. Broadmoor’s death. He still didn’t know exactly when his employer had died.
    “Family still arriving?”
    “Far as we know. Got to keep moving. I’ve got a list a mile long.” He waved the piece of paper and hurried onward.
    By the time he’d filled the lists and the launch had been loaded, Michael was exhausted. Not from the work itself but from fielding the many questions and comments from the village residents. He knew they meant well. The death of someone such as Mr. Broadmoor was no small thing in this village. He had been, after all, one of the wealthiest men in all of New York State and an elite member of the Thousand Islands community. Before making his final visit to Mr. Warnoll’s, Michael stopped by the newspaper office and purchased a copy of On the St. Lawrence, the edition that had announced Mr. Broadmoor’s death. Michael felt the need to have tangible proof before he carried such shocking news home to his parents.
    He attempted to formulate some simple yet straightforward way to break the news to them as he crossed the water in the Daisy- Bee , the name Mr. Broadmoor had christened the launch—in memory of his wife, he’d announced after purchasing the boat last summer. Several of the family members had been offended, but Mr. Broadmoor had insisted his wife would have enjoyed the tribute. With great fanfare, he’d had the name painted in large gold and black letters across both sides of the hull and then commanded the presence of the entire family and staff when he broke a bottle of champagne across the boat’s prow and formally christened his steamer the DaisyBee . Michael didn’t care what Mr. Broadmoor named the boat as long as he was the one who would have the pleasure of guiding her over the waters of the St. Lawrence River. Against his better judgment, Michael had been forced on occasion to hand over the helm to some of the younger male members of the Broadmoor family, who then insisted upon showing their prowess to young female passengers on the boat. Infrequent as those instances had been, Michael always dreaded having Jefferson and George Broadmoor aboard—especially when they were imbibing.
    He guided the steamer past Calumet Island, where Charles Emery’s castlelike home, constructed of Potsdam sandstone, sat directly opposite the village of Clayton. Folks said Mr. Emery, one of the partners who had formed the American Tobacco Company, decided to build his new house on Calumet Island and provide a view for Clayton residents that would rival George Pullman’s Castle Rest on Pullman Island. Some thought Mr. Emery had succeeded, for his was the first large castle-type home that ships would see as they headed downriver from Lake Ontario. Michael wasn’t so sure a winner could be declared, for the castled structures hadn’t yet ceased to rise out of the water. Inspired by Pullman, other giants of industry had purchased islands and established magnificent homes for themselves in what they now dubbed their summer playground. George Boldt of Waldorf-Astoria fame, Frederick Bourne, president of the Singer Sewing Machine Company, Andrew Schuler, owner of Schuler’s Potato Chips, and many other wealthy capitalists now descended upon the Thousand Islands every summer. Life on these islands continued to change—a transformation in progress.
    Once downriver,