Crestmont (8 page)

“
Whadya
mean, their bootleg? People bring their own hooch?”

“Sure! They’ve got their own personal speakeasy in a boodle bag. Okay, let’s get a move on down to the lobby and you do the next guest.”

Bessie was on her knees on the landing, wiping up spilled tea. Mr. Woods stood uncomfortably by, holding a tray of broken tea cups, nodding and smiling to guests as they passed. “Please report to Mrs. Woods when you are done here, Bessie.”

Mr. Woods pulled Zeke and Jimmy to the side. “Boys, what was that all about?” He demanded, clasping his hands behind his back.

“Nothing, sir,” Zeke said. “I’m just showing Jimmy the ropes, like you asked me.”

Mr. Woods opened his mouth to say something, gave an authoritative nod and turned on his heel. After he had descended the staircase, Bessie demanded, “What the Sam Hill are
ya
doin
’ in that uniform, Jimmy? Shouldn’t
ya
be
cuttin
’ grass or
somethin
?”

He flushed proudly, straightening his maroon cap. “Mr. W made me a bellhop this morning, Bessie.” He leaned in and whispered in her ear. “I was
tryin
’ to find you to tell you I
gotta
work, so I can’t
meetcha
tonight,
snookie
.”

“
Slammin
Jack, Jimmy!” Bessie pushed herself to her feet and whacked him with the damp cloth. Why didn’t
ya
tell Mr. W
ya
had personal matters to attend to?”

“Well, look at you, being all tetchy, Bessie.” Jimmy whipped the rag out of her hand and waved it back and forth in front of her nose. “I noticed you weren’t
tellin
’ him you had
somethin
’ else to do when he had you
wipin
’ up
somethin
’.”

“I’m off, lovers.” Zeke chirped, trying to steer clear of their squabbling. “You know the ropes now, Jimmy. Got a hot date with my harmonica and a sweet blue-eyed waitress. Thanks, buddy. Because of you, now I’ll get every other Saturday night off.”

****

“I say, Margaret, how do we survive Saturday registration each week? I was showing Celeste Woodford to her room and that damned black cat ran in front of Mae, causing her to spill her tea tray. I want to know who owns that cat and why it is always in here,” William Woods demanded, meticulously straightening the chairs in her office.

“I don’t know, dear, but it is very friendly. Actually, most of our guests love it. Mrs. Pennington sits on the porch for hours with it curled up on her lap. Just shoo it outdoors if it bothers you.”

“Well, that’s the least of our worries. I overheard Zeke just now telling Jimmy how to help our guests sneak in their alcohol. He said something about not letting on that one suitcase was heavy with bottles.” He rapped his knuckles on her desk. “I will allow neither local moonshine nor Canadian contraband in this establishment. We will not be party to breaking the Prohibition Act.”

“Remember, dear, national prohibition states that it is a crime to sell alcoholic beverages. There is no ban on personal consumption. What do you propose we do, William, inspect the guests’ bags as they check in for their stay?”

“If that is what is needed to maintain our standards, yes.” William reddened.

Margaret rose. Gently placing her hand on his shoulder, she said evenly, “William, perhaps you feel it is your moral obligation to police the guests, but to inspect their luggage is illegal. The best we can do is to set an example by remaining liquor-free in our establishment in accordance with the law. If the guests want to have a cocktail in their rooms before dinner, I think we had best turn a blind eye.”

“Your mother would be appalled, Margaret.”

“And Father would have approved. The guests have a right to conduct themselves as they see fit as long as they are circumspect and respectful of others. I think we can no more ask them to check their liquor at the door than we can demand they attend church services or participate in water activities on the lake.”

William’s eyes flitted from desk to ceiling, floor and window. The cleft in his chin twitched as he pondered her point. Margaret waited calmly.

Finally, he wagged a playful finger. “No one can quarrel with those dark, knowing eyes of yours, my dear. Time for me to scout out the gentlemen’s activities on the lawn.”

“Good, I’ll see to Miss Woodford. She brought a new music box this summer and I know she will want to show it to me.”

****

Mr. Woods made his daily stroll around the grounds to ensure that things were running smoothly. He slipped quietly into the two lane bowling alley. PT was tactfully advising the bowlers on their form. He had quite a knack in dealing with bowlers who liked to brag about the quality of their technique. Tightening his lips in a slight grin, PT gave his boss an imperceptible nod as he erased the slate scoreboard in preparation for a new game.

PT was the kind of employee William Woods could trust with responsibility and discretion. He was mature, polite, and a man of carefully chosen words. “PT must be twenty-eight by now,” Woods pondered. “I wonder how many more summers we will have him? Soon he will surely find something full-time instead of dividing himself between the
Crestmont
in summer and
Philadelphia
in winter. As a reward for his loyalty to us, I must remember to have him play piano for one of our functions.”

Continuing down the back lawn, he noticed the wood pile was low. Fires in the lobby and parlors provided not only warmth on cool evenings, but more importantly, ambiance. Masculine cries of “Got it!” and “A slam dunk!” greeted him as he paused at the shuffleboard courts.

He cheered when a round of applause indicated that a game was over. “Mr.
Swett
, you are a winner again.”

They invited him to join them, but he waved them away with, “Would love to, but must keep my boys running this place efficiently. I’ll see you tomorrow on the baseball field for sure. Gents, bring your families to our water games on Saturday morning. In my humble opinion, the
Crestmont
hosts the most exciting sailing races on
Eagles
Mere
Lake
.”

He headed down to the garage and was annoyed to see Otto, white shirt and tie under his dark blue mechanics overalls, sitting on the hood of the
Crestmont
touring car, smoking a cigarette. Otto jumped down the minute he saw his boss and guiltily squished the butt under his heel.

“Afternoon, sir.” His eyes struggled to meet his boss’s.

“Good afternoon, Otto. I noticed the wood pile is very low. Instead of dithering away your time down here awaiting a repair, I suggest you find one of the lawn boys and get to chopping.”

“I
’
ll get right on that, sir.”

“That’s the ticket, Otto. There are times when you can be downright responsible. Come to my office on Monday. I have an idea for keeping the garage open year round for the general public. I’d like to discuss your role in that.”

“Yes, sir.” Otto tightened the buckles on his overall straps envisioning a brighter future for his mechanic skills.

****

It was Gracie’s Sunday morning to work, but bad dreams woke her up before daylight. She lit the kerosene lamp next to her bed, put on her pink shrug, and decided to get the letter over with.

Sunday, July 3, 1925

Dear Lily,

I sincerely hope you are well and that you and George have found marriage pleasing. I was so proud to stand up for you at the wedding. I think of you often and miss you.

It must have seemed unbecoming of me to leave home with no explanation. I’ve wanted to write to you, but just couldn’t until now. There was nothing for me in
Bethlehem
. I felt there was no way to better myself there, to try anything new. I saw myself doing laundry for the rest of my life and couldn’t bear it.

Lily, I want to sing. Mother and Father would never understand that I had to get out. I want to try to get to a big city and see if I can do vaudeville, to be somebody people would know about and respect. I had to slip away quietly and not tell anyone, so they wouldn’t come looking for me. In doing it that way, I know I hurt you and I’m sorry. Please forgive me.

Anyway, I’m working this summer at a wonderful resort inn and feel fulfilled. The job is hard, but I have oodles of new friends. As soon as I make enough money, I’ll continue on to a big city. I’ll write again. Sending my love, I remain

Your sister,

Grace

Well, she was trying to make new friends, so that wasn’t a total lie; anyway, she did feel more at home at the
Crestmont
than she had at home. She neglected to send love to George or her parents, she realized, and she hadn’t left an address for Lily to write back. No matter, maybe she would feel up to that next time.

****

Gracie clattered down the hall with her mop and bucket of cleaning supplies on Monday morning. She stopped short when she saw Mrs. Woods walking deliberately toward her.

“A moment of your time, please, Gracie.”

Sure she had missed something in one of her rooms, she said, “I’m sorry, ma’am.”

“Have you done something to be sorry for?”

“I’m trying to be thorough, Mrs. Woods, but sometimes I’m a little slow.”

“On the contrary, you are thorough, and your pace is more than acceptable. That is why I am assigning you three more rooms. You will do 57, 58 and 59
in addition to your regular rooms.”

“Excuse me for saying it, ma’am, but aren’t those Bessie’s rooms?”

“Bessie has been reassigned elsewhere. Begin there tomorrow, please.”

Gracie dipped her head in acknowledgement, her green eyes seeing a pointy nose and freckles swimming in the floor boards.

“Good day, Gracie.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Woods.”

****

William Woods closed his office door and opened the bottom drawer of his desk. He fingered through several ties and pulled out the yellow one with navy diamonds. Whistling into the mirror on the back of the door, he replaced this morning’s blue and gold striped tie with the preferred selection. He admired how it complimented his light blue seersucker suit. The drearier the day, the more yellow he wanted in his tie. He checked his pocket handkerchief in the mirror and aligned his cufflinks. Did he remember what guest had given them to him? A mystification to tackle another day.

He rocked on his heels and said, “Time for work, Woods.”

His wife slipped through the open door. Two inches taller than he, she peered down and brushed a few wisps of his plentiful sandy, silky hair into place. “Afraid the sun will not poke through that gray, dear?” Margaret said, gently fingering his new tie.

“Good morning, Margaret. I was just selecting the hymns for Sunday’s hymn sing and am considering doing a solo on ‘Rock of Ages.’ Do you recall us singing that last week? Celeste Woodford, the
Penningtons
and the
Swetts
are here for a month and I don’t want undue repetition.”

“If you would write down the hymns you select, William, you surely could recall what you have sung.”

“
Hm
, I shall have to remember to do that. Margaret, my dear, you would have been proud of me this morning.” His words erupted in crisp, staccato phrases. “Agnes
Swett
hurled me an insult. I dodged.” Margaret’s brown eyes widened with interest. “She was fussing. Remember we could not put her in Room 1—you know—with the private balcony she had last year? I shot her an explanation—off the top of my head, of course. We had purposefully put her in 34 at the west end of the hall so she could enjoy a superb view of the lake—she perked up at that—and dispense her vast knowledge of the
Crestmont
with guests that share the public balcony.”

“Well done, William. You always handle Mrs.
Swett
with great aplomb.” She applauded softly. “We must move to another topic, however.” Margaret explained that Gracie, in cleaning servants’ quarters as the newest housemaid, was receiving low tips, although she was a good worker. Bessie, on the other hand, was slackening her effort on the preferred front second floor rooms.

“I refuse to abrogate her of responsibility, so I reassigned her to cleaning the staff dining room and gave Gracie three of her guest rooms. Perhaps if Bessie has less tip money to spend on eyeliner and chewing gum, she will take her job more seriously. In the short term, I suspect, she will be angry enough to cause trouble. I would let her go, but I feel it is part of my job to teach my girls responsibility.”

“And how will this affect the guests, Margaret?”

“The ones staying in 57, 58, and 59 will be happy for cleaner rooms, I suspect.”

****

Gracie raced to her room after her shift, quickly changed into her skirt and blouse and grabbed her dirty clothes to take to the laundry. She stole down the back steps checking to make sure Bessie wasn’t around, and ran down the back lawn. Relieved to see Olivia and Isaiah on the laundry porch, she headed toward them.

“Hey, Gracie,” said Isaiah. “Bessie was in the kitchen looking for you before I came down here to take my break.”

“Oh, no. Please don’t tell her where I am!” Gracie shot a nervous glance back toward the big house.