Mildred Pierce (20 page)

However, she didn’t go into a number. She assembled Pancho, Letty, and Arline for final instructions, paying most attention to Arline. ‘I’m not expecting many people, because it’s my first night and I haven’t had a chance yet to build up my trade. But if you should be rushed,
remember
: Get their orders. I’ve got to know whether they’re having vegetables or waffle before I can start, so don’t keep me waiting.’

‘Call them both?’

‘Call the waffle only.’

‘Call biscuits?’

‘I’ll keep biscuits out all the time, and you pick them up yourself. Pick up your own bread and your own biscuits, but put them in separate baskets and don’t forget that biscuits call for a napkin, to keep them hot. Three biscuits to a person, more if they want them, but don’t be stingy with them and don’t take time to count. Pick them up quick and pick up enough.’

Arline surveyed the place with a practised eye, counting tables. There were eight tables for two, around the wall, and two tables for four, in the middle. Mildred saw the look, and went on:
‘You’ll be able to take care of them
if
you get their orders. There’s plenty of room here, you’re using a tray, and that’ll help. Any time you need her, I’ll send Letty out to bus up your tables for you, and—’

‘Can’t she do that right from the start? So we get used to working together, and don’t commence bumping and stepping all over each other’s feet?’

‘Then all right.’

Letty nodded, with a self-conscious grin. She was already in the brick-red uniform, which was quite becoming to her, and obviously wanted to be part of the show. Mildred went back to the kitchen, lit the oven, and started the waffle irons to heat. She was using a gas waffle, instead of the usual electric waffle, ‘because that’s the old-fashioned kind of round waffle that people really like.’ She went to the switch box, put on the lights. The last switch worked the outside sign, and when it was on, she went out to look. There it was, as beautiful as ever, casting a bluish light over the trees. She drew a deep breath and came inside. At last she was open, at last she had her own business.

There ensued a long wait. She sat nervously at one of the tables for two, while Arline, Letty, and Pancho stood in a corner whispering. Then they started to giggle, and a horrible pain shot through Mildred. It was the first time it had occurred to her that she could open a restaurant, and then have nobody show up. She lurched suddenly to her feet and went to the kitchen. She kept touching the waffle irons, to see if they were hot. Outside, a car door slammed. She looked up. A car was there, and four people were entering the restaurant.

She had a moment of complacency as she reached for the chicken: now she would reap her reward for all her observing, thinking, and planning. She had had the free parking located in the rear, so she could see exactly how many customers she had, even before they came in; she had simplified her menu, so she could start the chicken without waiting for the waitress to report; she had placed her icebox, range, materials, and utensils so she could work with the minimum of effort. Feeling as though she were starting a well-tuned machine, she took out four each of
breasts, second joints, drumsticks, and wings, rolled them in the flour box beside the range, gave them a squirt from the olive oil bottle the stood beside the flour. She shoved them in the oven, for the brief baking that preceded frying in butter. Not yet closing the oven door, she shoved a pan of biscuits in, beside them. Arline appeared. ‘Four at No. 9, soup right and left, two and two, one waf.’

She reminded Arline she was not to call soup, but dip it up herself, then went out to greet her first guests. They were strangers to her, a man, woman, and two children, but she made them a pretty little speech, saying they were her first guests, and she hoped they liked her place and would keep on being her guests. Arline came in with the starters, the soup, crackers, butter, napkins, water, and salad. Salad, for some reason, is served first in California. Mildred’s eye checked the tray, finding it in order. Two more people came in. She vaguely remembered them as Pierce Homes buyers of six or seven years ago, but her waitress training came at once to her aid. Their names were on her tongue before she fairly saw their faces: ‘Why, how do you do, Mrs Sawyer, and Mr Sawyer! I’m so glad you were able to come!’

They seemed pleased, and she seated them at a table in the corner. As soon as Arline came over to get their orders, she went back to the kitchen, to start more chicken.

The first order went out smoothly, with Letty bussing the dirty dishes to Pancho, who went to work at once. But then Arline appeared, looking worried. ‘Two at No. 3, but one of them’s a kid that won’t have soup. Says she wants tomato juice with a piece of lemon and some celery salt – I told her we don’t serve it, but she says she’s got to have it, and what do I do now?’

It was no trouble to guess who that was.

She found Bert with Veda, at one of the tables for two. Bert was in a light suit, conscientiously groomed and brushed, but with a black band on one arm. Veda was in a school dress that hadn’t been worn yet, and Mildred’s floppy hat. Both of them looked up with a smile, Veda exclaiming how pretty Mildred’s dress was, Bert nodding approvingly at the restaurant. ‘By God, this looks like something. You got yourself a piece of property this time, Mildred. This place is real.’

He stamped his foot. ‘And it’s built. I saw to that. I bet there was no trouble with the Department of Health when they inspected
this
floor.’

‘They passed it without even looking.’

‘How about those toilets?’

‘They passed them too. Of course, we had to cut a door through, so both of them opened into the old secretary’s office. We made that into a kind of lounge. It’s against the law for a toilet to open into the kitchen, you know. But that, and the painting, and the gravel, and the swing doors, were about all we had to do. It cost money though. Whew!’

‘I bet it did.’

‘Would you like to look around?’

‘I’d love it.’

She took them both through, and felt proud when Bert admired everything profusely, not quite so proud when Veda said: ‘Well, Mother, I think you’ve done very well, considering everything.’ Then she heard a car door slam, and turned to greet her new customer. It was Wally, and he was quite excited. ‘Say, you’re going to have a mob. You heard me, a mob. That’s the thing to remember with direct-mail advertising. It’s not what you send. It’s where you send it. I got that stuff of yours right to the people that know you, and they’re coming. I bumped into six different people that told me they’d be here and that’s just six I happened to bump into. I said a mob.’

Wally pulled over a chair and sat down with Bert and Veda. Bert asked him sharply if he had attended to the transfer of beneficiary on the fire insurance. Wally said he figured he’d wait till the place burned down. Bert said OK, he was just asking.

When Mildred looked up, Ida was standing in the door. She went over and kissed her, and listened while she volubly explained that her husband had wanted to come, but got a call on a job, and simply had to look into it. Mildred took her to the table that now had only one chair, the other having been borrowed by Wally. Ida looked around, taking things in. ‘Mildred, it’s just grand. And the space you got. You can get two more fours in easy, just by shifting those twos a little bit. And
you can use trays, big as you want. You got no idea how that’ll help. It’ll save you at least one girl. At least.’

It was high time for Mildred to get back to the kitchen, but she lingered, patting Ida’s hand, basking in her approval.

The well-oiled machine was in high now, humming smoothly, pulling its load. So far, Mildred had found a few seconds for each new arrival, and particularly for each new departure, to give a little reminder of the home-made pies she had for sale, and wouldn’t they like to take home one? But now she was working a bit feverishly, frying chickens, turning waffles. When she heard a car door slam she didn’t have a chance to look out and count customers. Then she heard another door slam. Then Arline appeared. ‘Two fours just come in, Mrs Pierce. I got room for one but what do I do with the other? I can shove two twos together, but not till I get Miss Ida moved out—’

‘No no! Let her alone.’

‘But what’ll I do?’

‘Seat four, ask the others to wait.’

In spite of herself, her voice was shrill. She went out, asked the second party of four if they minded waiting. She said she was a little rushed now, but it would only be for a few minutes. One of the men nodded, but she hurried away, ashamed that she hadn’t foreseen this, and provided extra chairs. When she got to the kitchen, Arline was jabbering at Pancho, then turned furiously to Mildred: ‘He’s washing plates, and the soup bowls are all out, and if he don’t let me have them I can’t serve my starters!
Soup bowls, stupid, soup bowls
!’

Arline screamed this at Pancho, but as Mildred shushed her down, Letty came in, heavy footed and clumsy at unaccustomed work, and dumped more soup bowls on the pile, which went down with a crash, three breaking. Mildred made a futile dive to save them, and heard another car door slam. And suddenly she knew that her machine was stalled, that her kitchen was swamped, that she had completely lost track of her orders, that not even a starter was moving. For one dreadful moment she saw her opening turning into a fiasco, everything she had hoped for
slipping away from her in one nightmare of an evening. Then beside her was Ida, whipping off her hat, tucking it with her handbag beside the tin box that held the cash, slipping into an apron. ‘OK, Mildred, it’s them dishes that’s causing it all. Now
she
ain’t no good out there, none whatever, so let
her
wipe while
he
washes, and that’ll help.’

As Mildred nodded at Letty, and handed her a towel, Ida’s quick eye spotted dessert dishes, and she set them out on a tray. Then, to Arline: ‘Call your soup.’

‘I want a right and left for two, three and one, chicken and tomato for four, and they been waiting for—’

Ida didn’t wait to hear how long they had been waiting. She dipped soup into the dessert dishes, dealt out spoons with one hand and crackers with the other, and hurried out with the tray, leaving butter, salad, and water to Arline. In a minute she was back. ‘OK, Mildred, I got your family to take a walk outside. They were all through eating anyway. Then I put two at my table, and that took care of four. Then soon as I get the check for that first party of four, that’ll take care of four more, and—’

The twanging voice, the voice that Mildred had hated, twanged on, and Mildred responded to it with a tingle that started in her heart and spread out through the rest of her. Her nerve came back, her hands recovered their skill, as things began moving again. She was pouring a waffle when Mrs Gessler appeared at the door, and came tiptoeing over to her. ‘Anything I can do, baby?’

‘I don’t think so, Lucy. Thanks just the—’

‘Oh yes there is.’

Ida seized Mrs Gessler by the arm as she usually seized the members of her command. ‘You can take off that hat and get out there and sell pies. Don’t bother them while they’re eating but stay near the showcase and when they get through see what you can do.’

‘I’ll be doing my best.’

‘Containers in the drawer under the case, they’re out flat and you’ll have to fold them, then tie them up and put the carrying handles on. If you have any trouble, just call for me or ask Mildred.’

‘What’s the price, Mildred?’

‘Eighty-five cents. Everything’s eighty-five cents.’

Mrs Gessler laid her hat beside Ida’s and went out. Soon Mildred saw her come back, lay a dollar bill in the tin box, take change, and go out. In a short time she saw many bills in the box, as Ida repeatedly came in, made change, and sent Arline out with it, so she would get her tip. When she had a lull, she slipped off her apron and went out. Nobody was standing now, but every seat was filled, and she felt as she had felt yesterday, at the funeral, when she walked through the living-room and saw all those half-remembered faces. These were people she hadn’t seen in years, people reached by Wally’s clever system of mailing. She spoke to them, asked if everything was all right, received their congratulations, and from a few, words of sympathy about Ray.

It was well after eight when she heard another car door slam. Bert, Wally, and Veda had adjourned their meeting, on Ida’s invitation, to the running board of Wally’s car, and for some time she had heard them talking out there, while she worked. But now, as a foot crunched on the gravel, the conversation stopped, and then Veda burst in the back door. ‘Mother! Guess who just came in!’

‘Who was it, darling?’

‘Monty Beragon!’

Mildred’s heart skipped a beat, and she looked at Veda sharply. But Veda’s shining eyes didn’t suggest knowledge of scandal, so cautiously she asked: ‘And who is Monty Beragon?’

‘Oh, Mother, don’t you
know
?’

‘I guess not.’

‘He plays polo for Midwick, and he lives in Pasadena, and he’s rich, and goodlooking, and all the girls just
wait
for his picture to come out in the paper. He’s –
keen
!’

It was the first she had known that Monty was anybody in particular, but she was too busy to be excited much. Veda began dancing up and down, and Bert came in, followed by Wally, who looked as though he had just beheld God. ‘Sa-a-aa-a-y! If that guy’s here, Mildred, you’re in! Why there’s not a restaurant in LA that wouldn’t pay him to eat there. Isn’t that so, Bert?’