In the Company of Secrets (35 page)
‘‘Would you prefer to see the rest of the house before we visit?’’
Olivia didn’t have an opportunity to voice her opinion, for Mr. Howard immediately agreed to the offer. Mrs. Barnes waved them forward, and they entered the dining room, situated directly off the parlor. Four sizeable china closets and pantries were located in the kitchen and dining room, and Olivia nearly gasped aloud when she saw the laundry room. Three stationary washtubs lined the wall and were supplied with hot and cold water. In the basement, she viewed additional shelves lined with canned goods, cupboards for additional storage, and the room that contained the steam coils for warming the house. Steam heat—yet another benefit of rooming with a supervisor who lived across the street from the factories.
‘‘Let me take you to the third floor, where you can inspect the three rooms my daughter occupied before . . .’’ Her voice trailed off, and she dabbed her eyes. There was no doubt Mrs. Barnes missed her daughter terribly. When they arrived at the second-floor landing, she hesitated in the large front alcove room. ‘‘This is one of my favorite places. I sit here and read most afternoons.’’ She motioned to the rear of the house. ‘‘There are two bedrooms on this floor—and the bath, of course.’’
The walls throughout the house were papered in small floral patterns, and the ceilings had been tinted in harmonious shades to match the paper in each room. Venetian blinds were topped with sumptuous draperies and lacy curtains. On the third floor, the three large rooms had been converted into a dressing room, bedroom, and sitting room. To say the rooms were lovely wouldn’t do them justice. Olivia couldn’t believe she’d been presented with an opportunity to reside in these exquisite surroundings.
‘‘My daughter chose the wallpaper and furnishings for these rooms.’’ Mrs. Barnes surveyed the area one final time before leading them downstairs. Once they’d returned to the parlor, Mrs. Barnes sat down beside Olivia. ‘‘Mr. Howard tells me you’re the assistant chef at the hotel. Mr. Barnes and I enjoy partaking of a meal in the hotel dining room from time to time.’’ She tipped her head toward Olivia. ‘‘The food is excellent. I’m afraid you won’t find our meals nearly so fancy. Mr. Barnes says I should hire a housekeeper like the other supervisors’ wives. I do have occasional help, but mostly I prefer to keep my own house in order—just like Mrs. Howard always—’’ She stopped short and covered her mouth with her hand. ‘‘Oh, I’m so sorry, Mr. Howard.’’
‘‘No need to apologize, Mrs. Barnes. You’re absolutely correct. My wife enjoyed cooking meals and managing on her own. And she performed admirably until her illness.’’
‘‘Indeed, she did. And a finer neighbor couldn’t be found in all of Pullman.’’ Mrs. Barnes straightened the edge of a crocheted doily on the side table. ‘‘When did you arrive in Pullman, Olivia?’’
‘‘A little over five months ago. This will be my first winter in Pullman. I’m told to expect a lot of snow and cold weather.’’
Mrs. Barnes nodded. ‘‘True enough. But working in the hotel, you don’t have to concern yourself with the cold. And if you decide to reside with us, you’ll be plenty warm without the worry of coal or wood.’’
‘‘The rooms are lovely, Mrs. Barnes. I’m certain you’re aware of the rental rates in Pullman. Your rooms far surpass anything I could afford. I do appreciate seeing them, however.’’
The older woman waved her hand. ‘‘The rent we charge for these rooms is between you and us.’’ Mrs. Barnes went on to explain how much she missed her daughter. ‘‘Having you in the house would ease my pain. I do hope you’ll agree. We’d not accept anything over seven dollars a month.’’
Seven dollars?
Too late, Olivia realized she couldn’t say no to this kind woman. She shouldn’t have agreed to visit the house and meet Mrs. Barnes. Why hadn’t she simply said she wanted to look elsewhere? But surely Fred would understand. She could meet him elsewhere if he didn’t want to call on her at a supervisor’s house.
Mrs. Barnes cast a pleading look in her direction. ‘‘Do say you’ll agree, Olivia.’’
‘‘I’d be pleased to accept, but only if you’ll agree to let me cook for you and your husband several times a week.’’
The older woman grasped her hand. ‘‘Oh, we’re going to have a
fine
time. I can tell.’’
Mr. Howard leaned forward and rested his arms across his thighs. ‘‘You must remember that, unlike your daughter, Olivia works long hours each day. And she’ll be busy with her own social life part of the time.’’ He grinned broadly. ‘‘At least I hope she will.’’
‘‘Oh, absolutely. You would have freedom to come and go as needed. In fact, I’ll have a key made for you tomorrow morning. When would you like to move in?’’
‘‘I believe the second week in November would be best for me. Is that agreeable?’’
Mrs. Barnes clapped her hands together like a delighted schoolgirl. ‘‘I can hardly wait. It will be much more lively having another woman in the house.’’ She glanced at Mr. Howard. ‘‘As Olivia’s time permits, of course.’’
Despite the fact that she argued against it, Mr. Howard insisted upon escorting Olivia home. ‘‘I thought we’d stop at the Arcade restaurant. Surely you must be hungry.’’ He placed his palm on his stomach. ‘‘I know my supper is long overdue.’’
She would have preferred to hurry home unescorted, eat something light, and gather her thoughts. She’d need to carefully explain this move to Fred, or he’d once again accuse her of putting her job first. But this hadn’t been about her job. It was an opportunity to live cheaply in the best possible accommodations. And the house was only half a block from the hotel, a true blessing for her when the snow began to fall. However, she doubted whether any of those assets would erase the fact that the apartment was located next door to Mr. Howard. Fred’s mistrust of the Pullman supervisors ran so deep that he’d likely accuse Mr. Howard of marrying off the Barnes’s daughter in order to provide Olivia with the apartment.
Olivia was thankful the restaurant wasn’t crowded and even more pleased when the waiter led them to a table away from the windows where passersby would see them. Not that many people knew her, but all the residents in Pullman were acquainted with Mr. Howard, and talk traveled quickly through the town.
While they waited for their supper, Olivia searched for the proper way to broach the subject of Fred’s job. Perhaps a general question about the workers would let her ease into the topic. ‘‘If a person applies for a specific position with the company, do you hire the person for only that position?’’
He furrowed his brows. ‘‘I’m not certain I understand your question. You were hired to work as an assistant chef, and that’s the position you were given.’’
She agreed. Obviously he’d thought she was preparing to offer a complaint about her job in the hotel. ‘‘I was thinking of factory positions. If I had applied to work as a seamstress, would I be sure to receive a position as a seamstress? Or if a laundry worker was needed, would you simply send me to work in the laundry?’’
‘‘I suppose it would depend on the circumstances, such as the rate of pay and whether you would be willing to accept the position. Why all these questions about job placement? Has this something to do with your cousin Albert?’’
Without realizing it, Mr. Howard had given her the perfect opening. ‘‘Yes, it’s about both Albert and Fred. They mentioned having been hired for specific positions with the company, but when they actually began work, they were assigned to lesser jobs that didn’t make use of their skills.’’
They stopped talking while the waiter placed a plate in front of each of them. ‘‘That sometimes occurs,’’ Mr. Howard said, ‘‘but I’ll look into it and see if I can’t find something that would allow Albert to utilize his skills. I’ll review his application. I’m sure I can locate something.’’
She clenched her napkin between her hands. ‘‘And Fred?’’
His features tightened into a frown at the mention of Fred’s name. ‘‘I believe Mr. DeVault is in electroplating.’’ He shook his head. ‘‘For some reason, Mr. Pullman recently requested shift changes in that department. I wouldn’t be able to do anything for him.’’
‘‘I see. Well, thank you for offering to help Albert. I know he’ll be grateful.’’ He was watching her closely, so she forced a tepid smile. She didn’t want him to see her disappointment. ‘‘Albert is quite fond of Martha Mosher, who’s with housekeeping at the hotel. I think they may decide to marry soon.’’
‘‘Truly? Martha is a fine young woman. Mr. Billings tells me she’s a good worker. If Albert’s planning to marry, I’ll need to find him a position that offers higher pay.’’ He took the final bite of his supper and wiped his mouth with the linen napkin. ‘‘I’m going to have a slice of pie. Would you like some dessert?’’
Olivia shook her head. She didn’t want dessert; she wanted to go home. But she would be required to remain until Mr. Howard finished his pie and coffee. This evening certainly hadn’t accomplished what she’d intended. Granted, she’d arranged for a lovely place to live, and it looked as though Albert would be considered for a new position at a higher rate of pay, but she’d done nothing to help Fred. In fact, she wondered if mentioning his name had been ill-advised. Mr. Howard had been blatantly annoyed. Olivia could only hope her inquiry wouldn’t cause any further problems for Fred. Too late she realized she should have considered the possible ramifications of speaking out before plunging headfirst into company business.
‘‘Oh,
Mademoiselle
Mott, would you be my
friend
?’’ Chef René ’s heavy French accent rolled off his tongue the next morning in a lilting tune. He stood framed in the kitchen doorway, holding the stem of the yellow rose between his folded hands.
‘‘You are most humorous, Chef René .’’ Olivia was forced to bite her lip to keep from laughing.
‘‘Does that mean you will be my friend?’’ He grinned and thrust the rose at her. ‘‘Please.’’
‘‘Stop! What do you want to hear? That you’re right and he is interested in more than friendship?’’
The chef shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘‘There is no doubt of that. I merely wanted to make you laugh.’’
‘‘Then you accomplished your intent.’’ She shoved her arms into her white jacket. ‘‘I did find a perfect place to live. At the very first place I looked.’’
‘‘And the only one, I would guess. You are to become Mrs. Barnes’s tenant?’’ He lifted a large crock from one of the shelves.
‘‘How did you know?’’
‘‘In this hotel, word travels quickly. But you have our wonderful Mr. Beelings to thank for your lovely new home. He suggested the possibility to Mr. Howard, who then spoke with his next-door neighbor. You see? Even Mr. Beelings has detected Mr. Howard’s interest in you.’’ Chef René whisked the eggs he had cracked into the bowl and poured them into a sizzling skillet of melted butter. He set the empty crock on the worktable. ‘‘Don’t be discouraged. You are young and naïve when it comes to men.’’
Naïve? She’d admit to her inexperienced behavior in England and even in the first few months after she’d arrived in America. But after that, she’d outgrown her innocence. At least she thought she had. Obviously not.
The remainder of the day passed without incident. Mr. Howard didn’t appear, and she managed to avoid Mr. Billings. She’d not be thanking the hotel manager for prying into her private business. He no doubt hoped to gain a stronger foothold with Mr. Howard and the company with his snooping. She wondered if Mr. Howard frequently amassed information on company employees from their higher-ranking counterparts. She shivered at the thought.
After work, Olivia stopped at home only long enough to pen a note to Fred before hurrying to the DeVault residence. She was certain tonight’s supper would be more enjoyable than last night’s dinner with Mr. Howard. Passing the park, she captured a glimpse of a young mother pushing her baby in a carriage. The scene stirred feelings of loss for little Morgan. Perhaps moving out of the flat would help ease the pain of the baby’s departure.
Olivia watched as the woman leaned over the baby carriage, and she wondered if Charlotte missed Morgan. Each day she hoped to receive a letter from the young woman, but each day she was disappointed. At times it felt as though Charlotte’s existence in Pullman had been no more than a fleeting dream. Yet Olivia’s longing for Morgan remained very real.
Mrs. DeVault pulled open the front door and greeted her with a smile. ‘‘I thought you might have forgotten.’’
‘‘No. I stopped at home for a few minutes. I hope my tardiness didn’t ruin your supper, but I wanted to write a note for Fred.’’ She withdrew the envelope from her skirt pocket. ‘‘Would you give this to him?’’
Mrs. DeVault winked as she accepted the letter. ‘‘I’ll put it on the table so that he’ll see it the minute he gets home.’’ She took Olivia’s cape and hat and hung them in the hallway.
‘‘I’ve invited him to spend Sunday afternoon and evening with me. I didn’t know if he’d be attending church after working so late.’’
‘‘He’ll be at church, and if I catch him dropping off to sleep during the sermon, I’ll flick him like I used to when he was a little boy.’’ She laughed and snapped at the air with her thumb and index finger. ‘‘Albert won’t be joining us for the evening meal. He’s taken Martha to the Arcade for supper. Said he had a surprise for her.’’
