Crestmont (5 page)

“Guess that’s it for this run,” PT said, starting the engine.

After they introduced themselves, Isaiah pounded Gracie on the back and said, “One big happy family, right, Olivia?” He drew the palm of his wife’s tiny hand to his lips and kissed it. Sniffing suspiciously, he wrinkled his nose. “Lord Almighty, Dorothy, I hate that roses stink stuff you wear. Don’t you bring that smell into my kitchen, hear?”

“It’s imported Ashes of Roses eau de cologne, Isaiah,” she corrected him. “It was
Lawrence
’s favorite, bless my dear husband’s soul, and as long as Sears carries it, I will continue to wear it. And as far as your kitchen goes, there are so many aromas floating about no one will notice a little perfume. Besides, Mrs.
Swett
loves it and says so each summer when she hands me a fine tip.”

“I don’t know how you can be so
hotsy-totsy
to those old biddies in the dining room. They act like they run the place instead of Mr. Woods. You are crazy to take those tables near the lakeside windows, Dorothy. Why, you have to deal with all three of them at once, plus two husbands. Who’s that one always feeling like she’s sick—Mrs.
Pennyswoon
?”

“Mrs. Pennington, Isaiah. Be kind, now,” Olivia said softly, with a slight accent Gracie couldn’t identify.

“First of all, Isaiah,” Dorothy instructed, “if you ever stepped out of your kitchen you would see that the west window tables afford a commanding view of the lake and are therefore reserved for our, shall we say, more faithful, well-to-do guests. Secondly, Mrs. Woods has graciously assigned them to me because she feels I have the maturity and skills to mitigate some of their outlandish behavior.”

“Hey, PT,” Isaiah chuckled, “translate, please.”

“Dorothy is good at keeping the Rude
Regals
in line, so Mrs. Woods gives her the tables where she gets really great tips.”

“Thanks, pal,” said Isaiah.

“Oh, my word, I simply am beside myself when I hear people call them the Rude
Regals
. They are people with problems, just like you and me. Mrs. Pennington’s ailments are an indication that she needs some attention. Miss Woodford simply feels she is of a higher station than anyone else. If I can show some special attention or give deference to make someone happy, then I will do it. Besides, I find it a challenge to use my people skills on a higher level with the adults at the
Crestmont
than with my elementary students.”

The more everyone else talked, the more Gracie knew it would take some doing to feel like she fit in. Her stomach grumbled, and she wished she had bought more than a candy bar for lunch. The clouds she watched from her window glided like wavy streamers in the sky. As they motored toward the
Crestmont
, her eyes got heavy. Realizing that she would need a lot more energy before the day was over; she turned her head toward the window and tried to sleep. “Dear God,” she prayed, “Please make this be all right. If I was wrong to do it, then turn it for good.”

After a long drive, PT slowed the car when they passed through stone pillars on either side of the
Crestmont
driveway. They ascended a steep hill to an immense three-story brown building with yellow awnings. PT parked the car. Gracie stood nervously by while the others grabbed their luggage and dashed off in a flash, saying, “See you soon!”

“Come on, I’ll show you to Mr. Woods’ office,” PT said, lifting Gracie’s suitcase out of the trunk. Gracie took in the immensity of the porch as they walked up the center steps. Once they were inside the striking lobby area, PT pointed to a huge grandfather clock. “That’s my favorite. Name’s Old Tim,” he explained. “Mrs. Woods’ father had it shipped from
England
when he built the place.”

Gracie’s heart started to flutter. Oh, honestly, what had she gotten herself into? She tried not to trip over her own feet.

PT knocked on an office door, flicked his eyes toward it and said, “They’re swell people. Good luck.”

“Come in!” called a high-pitched, authoritative male voice.

The
Crestmont
Inn

Summer 1925

I

She stepped into the office. A short man with blond hair parted
in the middle sprang nimbly to his feet and shook Gracie’s hand. “I am Mr. William Woods, and this is my wife, Margaret. We are the owners of the
Crestmont
Inn.” He sat down as quickly as he had risen, adjusted his tie, and aligned his cufflinks perfectly. Mrs. Woods, with dark hair and large brown eyes, stood calmly next to his desk. Her serenity was a comforting contrast to Mr. Woods’ energy.

“Mrs. Woods, we have before us a Miss Grace Antes, applying for a housemaid position.

“It’s An-tees, sir,” Gracie blushed, afraid of Mr. Woods’ reaction to the correction. “And, if you please, I like to be called Gracie.”

“Antes. That’s a German name, is it not?”

“Yes sir. It’s Moravian, sir.”

“I know of the Moravians. Persecuted religious order from
Bohemia
. After a great spiritual renewal in the eighteenth century, they emigrated to this country as missionaries. Many settled here in
Pennsylvania
. I am sure I have sung some of the music they composed.”

“William.” Margaret Woods guided her eyes over to Gracie.

“Ah, yes. Gracie. Where are you from?”

She lowered her eyes, intent on taking advantage of the musical connection, and blurted out, “My great-great grandfather was John Antes. He made musical instruments and composed music when he was a missionary in
Egypt
. He was tortured there by the locals, then he came back to this country and his music has been sung in Moravian churches all over ever since the 18th century. Oh…I’m from
Bethlehem
, sir.”

“And how did you hear about the
Crestmont
Inn, young lady?”

“I saw an ad in the
Philadelphia Inquirer
, sir.”

“Have you ever worked in an inn or hotel before?”

“No, sir.”

“Have you been employed as a housekeeper before?”

“No, but I know what clean should be and I am a fast learner. At home I took in laundry for some of the older folks at church and made some money that way.”

“What brings you all the way over here to Eagles Mere?”

She nervously studied the floor under his immense desk.
Buffalo
, the stage, singing, finding a new life in the big city—all flew through her mind. Diagnosing these as inappropriate responses, Gracie replied, “The ad brought me here, sir, and now that I am here, I know I will like it.” She lifted her head with a hopeful smile.

William Woods rocked back and forth, heel to toe, studying her. Winking at his wife, he said, “There are three kinds of people at The
Crestmont
Inn, Gracie. Tell me who they might be.”

“Why, there’s you, Mr. Woods, and Mrs. Woods of course, then people like myself hoping to be staff…then there’s the staff.” Counting as she talked, she realized she hadn’t gotten to the most important people. “Mr. Woods, I’d say there are the guests, you and Mrs. Woods, and the staff.”

“Who are the bosses at The
Crestmont
Inn?” he probed.

Suspecting this was the key question, Gracie broke out of her habit of saying what she knew Mother and Father wanted to hear, and spoke her mind. “I think actually, sir, the guests would be the bosses, in that you want to make them as happy as possible while they are here.” A flash of pride for her newfound clarity of thought coursed through her.

He clicked the roof of his mouth with his tongue, shot a glance at his wife and asked, “Mrs. Woods, do you suppose we have found a new housemaid here in Miss Gracie An-
tes
?”

“I do, dear.” Mrs. Woods smiled warmly. Gracie straightened her shoulders.

“Well then, Gracie, your salary will be $15.00 per month, with an extra $15.00 in September if you complete the season, which ends on Labor Day. The rest of your salary will come from tips and you will receive free room and board here at the hotel. Please accompany my wife, who will explain your duties and answer any further questions.”

“You have come at a good time,” explained Mrs. Woods, leading her down the hall away from the main lobby where Gracie had entered with PT. “We are not yet at the height of the season, so you will have a chance to ease into the July rush.” Gracie paused, gawking at two immense portraits on the wall. “That is my mother,” Mrs. Woods said. “And this one,” she touched the frame, “is my father. He envisioned and built the
Crestmont
twenty-five years ago.” When Mrs. Woods smiled, her dark brown eyes drooped down at the corners. She hesitated, then patted her chignon of shiny brown hair and pointed out three ladies’ parlors on the left. A painting of a young girl dressed in yellow satin, holding a baby in a lace christening gown flowing with pink ribbons, was mounted on the wall across the hall. “These are my children, Peg and Eleanor.”

“Such beautiful little girls,” Gracie said, admiring the painting.

“Oh,” Mrs. Woods laughed. “The painting is several years old. Peg is fifteen now and Eleanor nine. I am sure the girls will make themselves known to you. They love it when a new staffer comes in. Come along, then, Gracie. I will show you the staff dining room and Room 109 where you will live this summer.”

The hall ended at what Mrs. Woods called the West Parlor directly opposite French doors that led into the dining room fitted with perfectly aligned white linen covered tables. Gracie gasped at the huge glass windows on the left of the room. “Ah, you haven’t seen the lake yet, have you? It is what makes Eagles Mere special.” Mrs. Woods beckoned her to the window. “Come here.” Gracie’s breath caught when she saw the striking view of water twinkling in the afternoon sun.

“Well, now that you have met my family, let me show you what you will be doing this summer. You are our only new housemaid so far.” They passed through swinging doors into an immense kitchen, filled with aromas of pork, rosemary, and apples. Isaiah was leaning over a steaming huge pot, pumping a potato masher up and down.

“
Evenin
’, Mrs. Woods.”

“Hello, Isaiah. I’d like you to meet Gracie, our new housemaid.”

“Yes, ma’am, we met on the drive from
Wilkes-Barre
. Hey there, Gracie.”

“I am sure Gracie is tired from all her traveling. Will you have someone send a dinner tray up to 109 for her?”

“Sure thing, Mrs. Woods.”

Gracie’s stomach grumbled as they passed through the fragrant kitchen past a small door into a tiny dining room. “This is the staff dining room. Breakfast is at 6:15 in the morning so we can begin serving the guests at 7:30. Staff lunch and dinner are after the main dining room empties. We expect a quiet and respectful attitude from our staff, and a diligence to anticipate the needs of our guests. Mr. Woods and I strive for fairness with our staff, but we also demand your best effort. If you have any questions, my office is readily accessible. Come now, it is five o’clock and I must hostess dinner at six. You shall need to sign your contract and then we must fit you for a uniform and give you some linens.”

Mrs. Woods carried Gracie’s uniform on a hanger up the back staircase next to the dining room. Gracie followed with linens in one hand and her red suitcase in the other. Indicating small glass burners about eye level when they reached the second sleeping floor, Mrs. Woods said, “These glow night lamps are lit by the night watchman before sundown and stay on all night.” She opened a door at the end of the hall, revealing another section with five rooms on each side and two bathrooms. “Female staff sleeps in the back west wing of the hotel or what we fondly call the big house. Here you are. Room 109. Your dinner will be up shortly. Surely you wouldn’t mind a quiet evening in your room after all your excitement today. You will take the rest of your meals in the staff dining room. Goodnight, Gracie. Welcome to the
Crestmont
family.”

“Oh, thank you, Mrs. Woods. You have been so kind.”

****

“Oh, honestly, Gracie, what have you gotten yourself into?” she hammered herself after she was safely ensconced in her room and had devoured the pork dinner delivered by a round-faced waitress named Mae. She carefully reviewed her notes of Mrs. Woods’ directions. Gracie understood how to clean the rooms, but would not know until tomorrow exactly where they were. Being the newest housemaid on staff, she knew she would get the worst assignment.

Her room was tiny, but clean and adequate. The window next to the small bed was covered with a simple lace curtain. In addition, there was a wardrobe, a dresser and a nightstand with a kerosene lamp. Gracie breathed a sigh of relief to know that she could comfortably read before retiring. Dusting off her red suitcase before laying it on the bed, she began unpacking. Her Bible and
Sister Carrie
went on the nightstand. She hung her everyday skirt, two blouses, and the crisp new size eight green uniform with its removable white collar and white apron in the wardrobe, along with her pink shrug. Mrs. Woods had measured her, stating kindly but firmly that
Crestmont
girls couldn’t order uniforms from the Sears catalogue because the hemlines were too high. Washing the detachable collar by hand would help her keep the uniform neat and clean until Olivia had finished sewing the second one. Gracie was relieved to learn that the inn provided the uniforms as long as they were turned back in at the end of the summer season.

Analyzing what she had not yet unpacked, she mulled over the two dresser drawers and decided to put clothes in one, paper in the other. She placed her nightgown, sweater and underclothing in the top drawer and into the second, her writing tablets, pencils, magazine and copy of
Song of the Lark
.