Hidden in a Whisper (5 page)

Faith giggled. “And beautiful clothes of taffeta and silk.”

Ivy stopped and smiled. “Yes, and jewels and lavish finery enough to make all of my friends green with envy. But first I have to find a proper husband, and I must have a position of merit at this resort.”

“A position of merit?” Faith asked, reaching up to take her own hairnet off.

“Yes. I want to be the head waitress, and with my aunt's help, I will be just that.”

“But Miss Taylor said—” “I don't much care what Miss Taylor said,” Ivy retorted. “She may believe that plain little mouse Gwendolyn Carson is entitled to the position by right of her three years with the Harvey Company, but I shall see how she reacts when my aunt Esmeralda instructs her to give the position to me. My aunt is a powerful woman, and she will see things my way.”

“How exciting!” Faith declared. “When will you talk to her?”

“As soon as we manage to set up a little bit of a complication in the life of Gwendolyn Carson,” Ivy said, going to the closet to thumb through her regular clothes. She chose a pale pink dressing gown and slipped into it without saying another word.

She would devise a plan—a plan that would put Gwen on poor terms with those around her. But how? Ivy mused over the problem for several minutes before coming up with a plan.

“Of course,” she said with a smile. “Faith, I shall need your help.”

“My help?” the girl questioned, a stunned look on her face.

Ivy rolled her eyes. “Yes. Your help. We need to make Gwen look bad, and I have the perfect solution. She will steal your hairbrush.”

“
My
hairbrush? But it's right here in my drawer,” Faith said, getting up to open the drawer of her tiny dresser. She reached in and held it up for Ivy to see.

“Yes, I know it is,” Ivy replied in irritation. “But we shall hide it among Gwen's things, then declare it missing. When Miss Taylor searches the rooms, she will find it, and Gwen will no longer be quite so favored.” Ivy knit her brows together as she continued to consider this. “Of course, that might not be enough. We might have to do this several times. Maybe we could find something really valuable and hide it in Gwen's room. Maybe some jewelry from one of the guests.”

Faith's expression revealed her confusion. “Steal from the guests?”

“If we need to,” Ivy replied, finishing up the buttons on her gown. “Look, give me your brush and I'll sneak across the hall and hide it under Gwen's pillow.”

“But it's my only brush,” Faith protested.

“You shall have it back before an hour's time,” Ivy countered, snatching the thing from her roommate's hand. “You'll see. Just go along with me in this, and I'll remember you fondly when I'm the head waitress.”

Faith smiled. “Truly?”

“Absolutely,” Ivy replied. “You shall be second only to me.”

“Oh, how wonderful!”

Ivy smiled. “Yes,” she murmured.

Going to the door, Ivy opened it just a crack and listened. Faith watched her and looked about to speak, but Ivy put her finger to her lips. She couldn't believe how dim-witted the girl really was. But then, a smart girl might not have agreed so willingly to Ivy's schemes. Sometimes a person simply had to utilize whatever was at hand in order to accomplish what they desired.

“Oh bother!” Ivy said, leaning back against the wall. “Gwen and several other girls are talking at the other end of the hall.”

With their room positioned at one end of the hall and Gwen's room directly across from theirs, Ivy had only worried about the fact that Rachel's office and suite were positioned between the two rooms capping the hallway that served as one of two entrances into the Harvey Girls'dormitory. Now, with the girls gathered to chat at the other end, Ivy knew she would have no chance to slip into the hallway without being seen.

She tried to think about what she should do, but anger was overrunning rational thought. She simply had to put herself into a position of control. Her entire life had been mastered by others, but no more. The past might stand as witness to her previous mistakes—even regrets—but she wouldn't allow it to rule over her. She had made mistakes, but then, everyone did. No, she wouldn't remember the past or bathe herself in sorrows from her losses. She had suffered enough at the hands of those around her. First by her aunt deciding to stay in Morita to find a way to make the town prosper, then at the hands of the Harvey establishment and their personnel.

She peeked again and, seeing things basically the same, sighed and started to close the door.

“Why not just give the thing a quiet shove?” Faith asked. “Just nudge it into the hall and maybe Gwen will pick it up.”

Ivy stared at the slightly older girl. “That's a positively brilliant idea.”

Faith's face lit up. “Truly! Do you think so?”

Ivy nodded and opened the door enough to slide the hairbrush across the highly polished hall floor. “Perfect!” she exclaimed in a hushed whisper. She waited to see if anyone down the hall noticed her action and when nothing was said, she breathed a sigh of relief. “Now we wait a few moments and see if Gwen picks up the brush when she comes to her room. And if she does, then you must kick up a storm and holler your head off about your missing brush. Make it look good, or Miss Taylor will never believe you.”

Faith, still standing on her laurels of having thought up the idea of sliding the brush into the hall, nodded enthusiastically. “I'll do it.”

Ivy grinned. This was going to be simple. She narrowed the door opening to a crack and waited.

In a few moments, Gwen appeared outside her room. At first Ivy didn't think she would see the brush in the dimly lit hall, but then, just before she opened her door, Gwen glanced down and noticed the object lying at her feet.

She reached down and picked it up and while she stood observing it, Ivy clued Faith to begin her rantings.

“My brush! My brush!” Faith squealed.

Ivy threw open the door and loudly protested that someone had stolen Faith's hairbrush. The commotion instantly brought Rachel and several of the other Harvey Girls to see what was going on. Gwen stood speechless in the midst of the ruckus, almost as if the suddenness of it all had stunned her.

“What is going on?” Rachel questioned.

“Someone has stolen Faith's hairbrush,” Ivy announced.

“Stolen it?” asked Rachel.

“Yes. It was in her drawer here in our room and now it is missing. In order for it to be so, someone would have had to have taken it.”

Gwen held up the brush. “Is this it? I just found it here in the hallway.”

Ivy scowled and Faith expressed glee. “Yes!” Faith exclaimed.

“That's it!”

“Why do you have it?” Ivy asked suspiciously.

“As I said, I just found it here on the floor when I came to my room.”

“That makes no sense,” Ivy said, hands on hips. “I believe you took it.”

“But I didn't!” Gwen protested.

“Now, wait just a minute,” Rachel interceded. “There is no sense in accusing someone falsely.”

“How can it be falsely?” Ivy asked. “She's holding the object in her hands.”

“Yes, but she said it was found on the floor. Isn't it possible that Faith simply dropped it?”

“In the hall?” Ivy's voice held a tone of complete disbelief. “Why in the world would Faith carry her brush to the hall?”

“Well, given that the bathroom is at the end of the hall, perhaps she carried it with her when she took her bath this morning,” Rachel offered. The other girls nodded, as this seemed quite reasonable.

“You'll have to be more careful in the future,” Rachel told Faith as Gwen handed her the brush. “Now everyone go on about your business and leave off with this nonsense about stealing. We are a family here, and families do not steal from one another. If I should find it to be otherwise, that person would be immediately discharged.”

The girls went back to their separate quarters, and Ivy smiled to herself as she closed her bedroom door. She had set the stage and placed Gwen at the center. Now she would simply have to look for other ways to draw attention to her dishonest actions. … Perhaps another theft.

“Perhaps a rather large theft,” Ivy murmured softly. “One that can't be chalked off to a misplacement on the way to the bathroom.”

  
THREE
  

THE HARVEY DINING ROOM for Casa Grande bore an air of elegance and refinement that rather startled the senses. Of course, all of Casa Grande was that way. From the artfully crafted brick exterior, complete with sun porches that faced masterfully landscaped gardens, to the rich walnut wood floors and chandelier-lit interiors, Casa Grande was something created from the ancient imaginations of European architects and designers. There was an air of Spanish flavor to the styling of the archways and porches, a presence of French palaces in the lobby and ballroom, and a homey warmth of English manor houses in the fire-warmed library.

For the dining room, Fred Harvey insisted on the very best furnishings. There were elegant sideboards and dining room chairs along with numerous oak tables that could easily seat ten people, sometimes more. The tablecloths were of the finest Irish linen, as were the napkins, which were nearly four times the size that would be found at any other restaurant. The dishes were china, the place settings silver, and the goblets were crystal. But Casa Grande was nothing special in this area. Fred Harvey insisted that his dining rooms bear the same charm and warmth of welcome no matter where they were located along the line.

Charmed completely by this elegance, Rachel enjoyed walking through Casa Grande whenever time allowed. The lobby itself declared an opulent wealth that dazzled the eye. No expense had been spared— from the marble colonnades and tiling to the brass fixtures on the walls and cappings on the marble stair railings. There were oriental rugs on the cream-colored floors with rich, dark walnut furniture upholstered in a golden raw silk. Blended with the red and gold accents of the carpet and furniture, heavy brocade draperies complemented the enormous floor-to-ceiling windows. Rachel knew from experience that the scene transported the person who walked through the doors of Casa Grande from a quaint, dusty village to a wealthy resort.

In spite of the grand opening still being a couple of weeks off, Casa Grande was, even now, aflutter with activity as the girls worked to feed breakfast to a bevy of railroad workers. Rachel felt pleased, in general, with the way things had progressed. She had heard that it might be difficult to pull together a staff of twenty-five girls, especially given that they were experienced in working elsewhere along the line and might expect to do things their own way. The uniform training and regulatory operations of each dining room along the Santa Fe made it easier, however. Every girl knew what was expected of her under the Harvey rules, and because of this, Rachel felt confident that the transition would be fairly simple.

Now if she could just eliminate the pesky problems that seemed to frustrate her efforts. Problems like Ivy Brooks's insistence to stir up strife and problems like …

“Miss Taylor!” an elderly voice boomed out, causing all heads to turn toward the main entry doors.

Rachel sighed. Problems like Esmeralda Needlemeier.

Crossing the dining room, Rachel smiled. “Good morning, Mrs. Needlemeier. What may I do for you today?”

“I have come to observe your operations,” the older woman replied, tapping her cane on the hardwood floor.

“We are nearly finished with the morning meal. It was only a trial run for the railroad staff, but if you would like to partake of breakfast, I could check with the chef.”

“Mercy, no!” the woman exclaimed. “I've already taken my morning meal. I've merely come to watch you work and to speak to my niece.”

“Very well,” Rachel replied. “You may take any seat you like.”

She watched the elderly woman move across the room to position herself in one of the far corners. Sitting very primly on the edge of the oak dining room chair, Esmeralda Needlemeier observed the room with a critical eye.