Crestmont (7 page)
Bessie squealed when a stocky boy with a wide chest and short legs sauntered into the room. “Jimmy boy!” She flew at him. “Where the Sam Hill have
ya
been?
Ya
left me up here all alone. Made me bait for some cad to play with, like PT here.”
PT reddened, closed his eyes and dug his bony fingers deeper into the keys, immersing himself in ragtime.
“Well I’ll be jiggered, Bessie,” Jimmy said. “Mr. W made me mow the whole lakeside hill. I just scrubbed up a bit after for my best girl.”
“Aw, sweetie, was it horrible?” He reeled when she jumped on him, winding her legs around his waist.
Shadow, the cat, appeared out of nowhere and pounced on top of the piano. Nestling down to enjoy the vibrations, it contentedly licked its paws. Dorothy slammed down her pencil and moved over to the piano.
“PT, I am just beside myself with this Scott Joplin nonsense. Why not play something we can sing?” He grinned and plunked out “That’s My Baby.”
Zeke fished around in his pockets and asked, “Otto, did you pinch my harmonica again?”
The cinnamon bun man from breakfast laughed. “You couldn’t keep that harmonica in your pocket if it were wired shut, Zeke.”
Gracie sang along, but felt out of place amongst them.
****
On Monday, she finally worked up the courage to find the library. Certain it was late enough that the guests would be in their rooms, Gracie grabbed her vocabulary word papers. She tiptoed down the back staircase, awash with murky shadows from the glow lamps, to the main floor. Glittering chandeliers lit the hallway as she passed the West Parlor and the smaller ladies’ parlors. She hesitated a moment to admire the portraits Mrs. Woods had shown her on her first day. After she passed the Woods’ offices, the hallway opened into the hotel’s main lobby. Gracie stopped at the entrance, taking it all in. She had passed through this striking room with PT a week ago and hadn’t noticed the open, magnificent space.
Huge windows were adorned with cream-colored cornices from which hung matching draperies held back with green tassels. The wallpaper was the color of budding spring leaves alternating with a thick glossy cream stripe. Small wooden tables, hugged by groups of wicker chairs cushioned in a floral pattern, were scattered about. In the center of the room was a magnificently carved chestnut table with a marble top, holding a stunning fresh flower arrangement. To the left, an impressive wooden staircase led up to the landing of the first sleeping floor. Double doors on her right led outside to the front lawn. The whole effect seemed to bring the outdoors in. A stone fireplace stood across the room from her. Old Tim ticked away guarding the east hall that led to the library.
Light from the immense lobby chandelier filtered into the library as Gracie passed through a large archway. Comfortable leather armchairs were grouped at the entrance with end tables and lamps that had been turned off. Shelves and shelves of books lined the walls and windows reached almost to the ceiling. A floor lamp with a lemon-colored shade patterned with amber leaves dimly lit the room. Thinking she was alone, Gracie jumped when she heard a squeak from one of the leather chairs.
Mrs. Woods peeked around the wing of the chair, startled. “Oh, Gracie, dear, it seems we both are up late. What brings you down here at ten-thirty at night? The night watchman will be around soon to turn out the lights.”
“I need a dictionary, ma’am.”
“Whatever for, Gracie?”
“I read my books before I go to bed. When I find words I don’t know, I write them down so I can look up their definitions. I want to improve my vocabulary.”
“What are you reading now?”
“
Sister Carrie
,” Gracie announced proudly.
“Oh, that poor dear. As I recall, she went to
Chicago
to better herself and then wound up a lonely, selfish person.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” breathed Gracie. “I haven’t gotten that far yet.”
“Well, I won’t spoil it for you. I will tell you that running from home to be a famous actress wasn’t exactly what Carrie expected. I’m impressed with your interest in reading. Please feel free to borrow anything you want from our library here. Just write your name on the card and put it in the lending box over on the desk. We also keep
Barron’s
and
Time
magazines, although the guests tend to take them to their rooms and we lose track of them.
“I see your new uniform fits well. Olivia is a master seamstress. When you need the other one washed, you can visit the laundry house down the rear lawn just west of the garage.”
Rising with effort she said, “Well, Mr. Woods will be waiting up for me. Sometimes I like to sit here and enjoy the quiet at night after the guests have retired.” She ran a finger along the bookshelf behind her and pulled out a heavy book. “Here’s the dictionary. You can sit here at my father’s old desk to look up your words, if you like.” Mrs. Woods lovingly placed her hand on an immense cherry roll top desk filled with cubbyholes and tiny drawers.
“Goodnight, Mrs. Woods. And, oh honestly, thank you for the offer to use the books.”
“You’re welcome, dear. It’s nice to know we have someone on our staff so diligent about learning.” With a tired smile, she started to leave the room, and then turned back. “Gracie, if you don’t mind me asking, is your family pleased that you are with us this summer?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Gracie stammered, ashamed at the bold-faced lie.
“Good. Tomorrow it will be just a week since you came. I hope we have made you feel at home.” Checking her watch pin, she said, “I’d better get back to the Woodshed. Many tasks make for much fatigue. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Mrs. Woods.”
“Woodshed,” that’s what the Woods’ cottage was called, Gracie mused, as she turned on the lamp. It was much more than a shed, Dorothy had told her, with three bedrooms, steam heat, and a coal-burning stove. They could live there all winter, enabling Mr. Woods to keep track of the
Crestmont
while he taught at
Westlawn
Academy
for Boys.
She opened the dictionary and found “acquiesce.” After writing down the definitions for all of her vocabulary words, she closed the heavy book and shut off the lamp. The full moon shone through the curtain casting a delicate pattern of lace on the wall. It illuminated a plaque on the desk:
William Warner
1853-1911
Creator of the
Crestmont
Dream
Gracie remembered the wistful expression on Mrs. Woods face when she had shown her father’s portrait after the interview. It seemed like Mrs. Woods missed her father a lot. Gracie hardly ever thought about her parents. What was wrong with her? The only people she missed from home were Lily, George and Rev.
Herbst
. Telling Mrs. Woods her parents were pleased she was in Eagles Mere was a lie, but on the other hand, she wasn’t sure they really cared where she was. Lily would care, though. And George, well, she didn’t permit herself to think about him. Oh, but she just had, hadn’t she? Folding her arms in front of her on the desk, she lay her head down and let the tears come. She had to write the letter.
****
Feeling restless after her shift the next day, Gracie decided to brave the laundry. She grabbed her soiled uniform, not bothering to change out of the one she wore, and headed down the back hill toward a small white-washed building. The fresh smell of soap, hissing of ironing machines, and chatting of female voices greeted her. A lovely whitewashed porch with rocking chairs, railings and delicate filigree invited her to sit down. Smoothing her skirt, she sank wearily into a rocker. Even though she was lonely, Gracie found peace in being alone. She peered up at the big house, standing brown and majestic on the hill. Laughter from guests strolling on the lawn drifted down to her. She watched them enviously between the branches of the huge blue spruce tree next to the porch, noticing how at ease they seemed to be with each other.
“I see you survived your interview.” PT startled Gracie when he clambered into the other rocker. He lit a cigarette, then flapped out his match.
“Oh, that was the easy part, I guess,” Gracie sighed. “It’s the fitting in that I’m not so good at. Most of the girls are much younger than I am, except Dorothy, of course. So far, she’s the only friend I’ve made.”
“You met
Magdalena
yet?”
“Who?”
He tipped his head back toward the small building attached. “Heads up the laundry. Army sergeant type. Don’t let her catch you in that uniform when you are off shift. You’ll get a scolding for dirtying it up.” Gracie’s right eyebrow shot up as she checked the laundry door.
He gave the stem of his pocket watch a couple of twists and checked the time. “Bowling alley opens in ten minutes. Some guests can’t figure out their own scores. Mr. Woods counts on me to help with the tallying without them knowing.”
“Oh, well, thanks for the company. This is the first real conversation with a staffer near my age I’ve had since I arrived. Oh, and I liked your piano playing. It was different than anything I’ve heard.”
“Yup.”
Gracie scrambled up the hill to the big house, sure he must have thought her incredibly stupid to have said such a thing.
III
“Hey, Jimmy, great day for mi
hands together. “The best part is tonight’s my first Saturday night off this summer. Heck, I even had to work the 4
th
of July.”
Guests, eager to begin their
Crestmont
vacations, streamed through the lobby past the two bellhops. Amidst the flutter of activity, Zeke kept one eye out to see who might need assistance with their luggage while he coached Jimmy on the finer points of his new job.
Jimmy’s chunky fingers fiddled uneasily with the gold buttons on his maroon bellhop uniform. Pushing his brows together he said, “Thanks for
showin
’ me the ropes about
bellhoppin
’, Zeke, but I’m
thinkin
’
bein
’ a lawn boy was easier. At least when you get done
cuttin
’ and
prunin
’ you can clean up and you’re done. I don’t like what you’re
tellin
’ me about the guests
callin
’ us bellhops anytime of the
evenin
’. That’s
gonna
seriously cut into my love life.”
“Oh, you and Bessie had something cooking tonight? Guess you couldn’t tell Mr. W about that.” Zeke laughed. “Well, you won’t work every Saturday night. Anyhow, you’ll get tips as a bellhop so you can buy Bessie some little trinket to keep her happy, then love her up the next week.”
“Yeah, I was supposed to meet her down on the dock after dark. I know we
ain’t
supposed to be up in that part of the second
sleepin
’ floor, but maybe we could slip a note under her door. I know her room number. She’s had enough of that
singin
’ in the staff lounge stuff and is
gonna
hit the roof if I don’t show up tonight.” Jimmy shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other.
“You can go up there, if you want, but I’m not getting myself fired.”
“Damn, you never saw Bessie really mad, have you, Zeke?” Jimmy asked. “Oh, yeah, and Mr. W said
somethin
’ about after I do check in for the big house that he’d give me the cottages to bellhop. They’ve got call bells in those, too. Can those guests call me any time of the night, too?”
“If you’re the bellboy on duty,
yessiree
.”
“Geez, I
gotta
tramp all over
Crestmont
campus, and for what? I hear they give the worst tips.”
“You’re all wet, Jimmy. The cottage guests are much nicer than the ones in the big house. But don’t even try to top me at pleasing any guest. Even those Rude
Regals
love me,” Zeke boasted. “They ring my bell and I appear at their door, towel over my arm, ice and lemonade or
Bromo
Seltzer on my tray. Last year I had to carry a hot pan of water to Mrs. Pennington so she could soak her feet. She gave me fifty cents and asked me not to tell her husband. She’s what they call a
hy-po-con-driak
and I heard she carries her husband around with a ball and chain. Come on, let’s get a wiggle on and I’ll show you how to get great tips.” Zeke hurried over to a couple surrounded by assorted luggage and two unruly children.
“Allow me to show you to your room, sir,” offered Zeke, taking a suitcase out of the man’s hand. Winking at Jimmy, Zeke adeptly placed one suitcase under his left arm, put another in his left hand and picked up the largest with his right hand. He made chit chat with the family that trailed after him and Jimmy took up the rear, carrying two hat boxes and a large stuffed rabbit.
Once upstairs, Zeke threw open the guest room door, set down the bags importantly, and cracked the window. “Wonderful view. Have you stayed with us before?” Opening and closing each faucet, he said, “Here is your hot and cold running water. May I help you in any other way, sir?” he said with finesse, flashing a crooked smile.
“Thank you, sir, mighty generous of you.” Zeke’s head bobbed as he accepted his tip. “Welcome to the
Crestmont
and we hope you enjoy your stay.”
“See, Jimmy? Be all
nicey
-nice and give ‘
em
a twenty dollar smile for an extra nickel tip. You’ll make out great,” Zeke said when they were back in the hallway out of earshot. “Another thing. Always say your ‘
ing’s
’ at the ends of your words. Don’t say ‘
lookin
’ and
draggin
’. Highly educated guests stay here at the
Crestmont
. They’ll respect you more if you clean up how you talk. Now, did you see how I carried those bags perfectly evenly? Mind you, one suitcase is usually much heavier than the others because that’s where they keep their bootleg. You get a better tip if you pretend they’re all light as a feather.”