Until We Reach Home (31 page)

“Especially on our first day,” Kirsten added.

They finished dressing and went downstairs to the kitchen, where Mrs. Olafson was fixing a lunch tray. “Don’t you girls look lovely in your new outfits—or should I say
old
outfits? Would one of you like to carry this tray upstairs to Mrs. Anderson when it’s ready?”

“I will,” Kirsten said.

“I didn’t realize that it was noon already,” Elin said. “All we’ve accomplished is moving in.”

“How big did you say this house is?” Kirsten asked.

“It has more than twenty rooms—not counting the servants’ rooms on the third floor.”

“Let’s see . . .” Kirsten said, counting on her fingers, “if we spent two days cleaning each room, it would take us only forty days—no, that’s not long enough. We need to work for at least ten weeks to pay back the money we owe.”

“Longer if you count spending money,” Elin added.

“Did you see all of that woodwork in the dining room?” Sofia asked. “We could never clean and polish all that wood in two days—not to mention the furniture and the silver and—”

“Where do you think we should begin, Mrs. Olafson?” Elin asked.

“Well, first you should eat your noon meal. I fixed enough for the three of you, you see. After that I would start with the rooms she is most likely to use. The morning room behind the stairs, where the sun comes in. She likes to sit in there. And the dining room. She does use it for guests from time to time, but right now the silver is a mess and the dishes need to be washed and the rugs hung out and beaten and . . .” The little woman paused to take another breath, then gestured to the kitchen table. “But sit—eat, eat.”

Mrs. Olafson’s fish chowder was the best Elin had ever tasted. The rye bread was still warm from the oven. Elin hadn’t felt so full or so satisfied since leaving home.

“I’d like to start with the dining room,” Sofia said after they’d finished. “I think it must look beautiful beneath all that dust. If you show me where to find the silver polish, Mrs. Olafson, I’ll be glad to start with that.”

After lunch, Elin dragged herself into the dining room behind Sofia and Kirsten. Sterling silver serving pieces covered the top of the sideboard—chafing dishes and a coffee set; dishes for condiments and fruit and butter; salt and pepper shakers, a pickle caster, a mustard pot, and even a silver toothpick holder—all black with tarnish. Elin opened the cupboard doors and found even more silver pieces, along with a set of bone china dishes and enough silverware to serve twenty people. She covered a corner of the table with an old cloth to protect it and helped Sofia pile all of the pieces in one place so she could begin.

Kirsten hauled in a bucket of warm soapy water and began washing the mahogany-paneled walls. Elin followed behind her with a rag and furniture polish. As she worked, Elin couldn’t stop thinking about Sofia and the mysterious owner of the violin and Bible. It was so unlike her sister to befriend a stranger. She had always been so timid and shy. What had brought about this change in her? Sofia had been reading Mama’s Bible every night, too, and reminding them to pray before they went to sleep. Was this the reason for the change, or the result of it?

Elin suddenly realized that Sofia was humming while she worked. She used to love to sing and had a beautiful voice, but Elin hadn’t heard her sing since everything started falling apart back home.

The humming turned spontaneously into song. Sofia chose their mother’s favorite hymn, “Children of the Heavenly Father.” Elin stopped polishing and closed her eyes to listen.

“‘Though He giveth or He taketh, God His children ne’er forsaketh; His the loving purpose solely to preserve them pure and holy.’”

Tears blurred Elin’s vision from the beauty of Sofia’s voice. It seemed like a miracle that she was singing at all. Elin was afraid to speak, afraid to make Sofia self-conscious. But she longed to hear more.

“That was beautiful, Sofia,” Kirsten said when she stopped. “It’s so good to hear you sing again.”

Sofia smiled shyly, her cheeks turning pink. “When my friend Ludwig played his violin for me, his music gave me hope and courage.”

Kirsten dipped her rag in the bucket and wrung it out. “We sure could use a lot of each,” she said softly. “I don’t think our new life in America is what any of us had hoped for or expected, is it?”

“But in spite of everything,” Sofia said, “I’m happy.”

“Then sing some more,” Kirsten coaxed. “Maybe we’ll sing with you.”

It took them four days to clean the dining room. They had to ask the gardener for a ladder so they could wash the cobwebs off the crown molding and clean the chandelier and wall sconces. Mr. Lund also helped them move the table and chairs aside and carry the rug outside so they could beat it. Then they put everything back into place again.

When they were finished, the dishes and silver serving pieces gleamed. Elin could see her reflection on the polished tabletop. With the chandelier and sconces lit, the room sparkled. She and her sisters stood back to admire their work.

“I knew there was a beautiful room beneath all that dirt,” Sofia said.

“And now we have only nineteen more rooms to clean,” Elin said.

“By the time we get to the last one, the first one will be dirty all over again,” Kirsten said. “At least we’ll never be out of a job.”

“Yes we will,” Sofia said. “Her son wants to sell the house, remember?”

The sound of the front door chimes echoed through the hallway. Elin hurried to open the door, and the moment she did, the woman on the doorstep pushed past her and breezed inside, talking loudly and rapidly in English. She was beautifully dressed and appeared to be in her forties, with the fair hair and skin coloring of a Swede, but her colorful clothing and elegant hat were those of an American woman.

Elin held up her hand to interrupt the stream of chatter. “Excuse me, ma’am, but I just arrived in America a short time ago and I haven’t learned English yet.”

“Oh. I see,” the woman said, switching to Swedish. She was only a few inches taller than Elin, but the way she scrutinized her with narrowed eyes and upturned nose made Elin feel very small.

“Well. I’m Bettina Anderson. And as I was saying, I heard that Mother Anderson had hired some new girls and that they were very young—and it seems I heard correctly.”

Elin realized that their employer’s suspicions were true: The nurse, Agne, was an informant. Kirsten and Sofia, who had joined Elin in the foyer, also came under Bettina Anderson’s sharp scrutiny.

“I hope that you prove to be more trustworthy than the last maid we hired. What sort of experience have you had as domestics? Who else have you worked for?”

“No one, ma’am. Our experience comes from growing up on a farm, tending to all of the usual household chores.”

“But we do know how to scrub and dust and mop,” Kirsten said, stepping forward. “Those aren’t difficult skills.”

Elin could tell that the woman’s condescending tone was making Kirsten’s temper rise. Bettina Anderson talked to them as if they were feeble-minded.

“If you would like to look at the dining room, you’ll see what kind of work we do,” Kirsten said, gesturing to the doorway.

“I can smell the silver polish—and the ammonia,” Bettina said, wrinkling her nose. “Don’t use too much of either. It makes the house stink.”

She strode across the foyer and halted in the archway that led to the dining room. Elin expected to see a look of pleasure at the transformation they had accomplished. Instead, Bettina frowned, then turned to look at the shuttered salon across the hall.

“You’ve been here a week and you’ve gotten only this far?”

“We’ve only worked three and a half days, ma’am,” Kirsten said. “And there was a great deal to do. All of that silver needed—”

“Forget the silver. Your priorities are all wrong. Just take care of the worst of things and hide the dishes and silver away. In fact, you could have packed it all up. It will all have to be moved anyway.”

“We were told that Mrs. Anderson sometimes entertains dinner guests, and—”

“That’s nonsense. Now follow me,” she said, marching across the hall, “and I’ll give you your orders for the remainder of the week.”

Elin didn’t move. “I don’t mean to be disrespectful, ma’am, but Mrs. Anderson is the one who hired us, and I believe that she should be the one to give the orders.”

Bettina whirled around to face her. “You are nothing but an inexperienced little farm girl. If it were up to me, I would fire you on the spot!”

“Then I’m glad it isn’t up to you,” a voice boomed from the balcony above them. Their employer, Mrs. Anderson, was up and dressed and floating down the stairs with her cat and her cane. The animal walked regally by her side like a royal attendant. It was the first time, as far as Elin knew, that Mrs. Anderson had been out of her room since they’d been hired.

Bettina’s frown quickly changed to a smile as she strode across the foyer to greet her. “You’re looking much better, Mother Anderson.”

“That’s because there was absolutely nothing wrong with me. In fact, you can take that sorry excuse for a nurse back home with you when you leave—which I hope is very soon.”

“You’ll have to talk to Gustav about the nurse, not me. He’s the one who hired her for you, Mother Anderson.”

“I would be happy to talk to my nitwitted son if he ever bothered to come over and visit me. Instead, he sends you over here to plague me.”

“Gustav is very busy. He has a newspaper to run.”

“He’s busy running it into the ground, if you ask me.”

Mrs. Anderson made her way across the foyer, forcing Bettina to jump aside, then halted as she surveyed the dining room. Elin held her breath, wondering what her reaction would be and if she would find fault with their work and fire them. The flat-faced cat wandered into the room, stopping to sniff some of the chair legs. Elin hoped it didn’t do its business on their handiwork. When Mrs. Anderson finished taking it all in, she turned on her daughter-in-law.

“What did you think you were doing, criticizing my servants and ordering them around? They’ve done a splendid job on my dining room. I think I’ll throw a dinner party to show it off.”

“When?” Bettina asked.

“None of your business when. You won’t be invited.” She gave Kirsten a poke in the arm with her cane. “Go tell Mrs. Olafson to fix some coffee. I’ll be in the morning room.” She turned to Elin next. “Now that the dining room is finished, I would like you girls to clean the main salon next, so it’s presentable for my guests.” She pointed to the enormous parlor with her cane, then limped away. Bettina Anderson and the cat trailed behind her.

“She certainly has a huge voice for such a delicate little woman,” Sofia whispered.

“I noticed that, too.” Elin went into the parlor to assess the work, and what she saw dismayed her. The room was larger and filthier than the dining room had been. There were twice as many windows to wash, along with twice as many draperies to take down, wash, press, and rehang. The curtains were all drawn shut, making the darkened room feel even grimier. Yellowing sheets draped the furniture. Elin was glad that the remnants of her illness were finally fading and that she was regaining her strength. She was going to need it.

“Look . . . a grand piano,” Sofia said. She had lifted a corner of one of the sheets to uncover the beautiful ebony instrument. She tested a few of the keys, playing part of a scale, then lowered the cover again.

“Let’s get the ladder and take down these drapes first,” Elin said. “Then we can at least see what we’re doing.”

By the time they had taken down the last curtain an hour later, the cloud of dust in the room was making all three of them sneeze. Elin could see particles floating in the sunbeams that managed to stream through the smeared windows.

“Help me carry these out to the washhouse,” she said, pointing to the mountain of curtains, “and I’ll start washing the windows.”

She was bending to scoop up the first armful when Bettina Anderson strode into the room. The woman kept her voice low, but her face and tone were very stern as she shook her finger at Elin.

“Now, you listen to me. There is a potential buyer coming to view the house next Saturday, and I want to see some progress by then. Get some work done, do you understand? And don’t pay any attention to my mother-in-law if she tries to fire you. Keep working! I’ll pay you the same wages that she’s giving you.”

“But, ma’am, there are twenty rooms in this house and only three of us—”

“Don’t give me any excuses. This is a good prospective buyer, and I want this place sold!”

Elin waited until the front door slammed behind Bettina, then huddled with her sisters to talk. “What do you think we should do? I don’t know which woman to obey!”

“I want to stay here for as long as we can,” Kirsten said. “We’re being well fed and we have a very nice roof over our head. I say we should ignore the young Mrs. Anderson.”

“I don’t blame our Mrs. Anderson for not wanting to live with that woman,” Sofia said. “She isn’t very nice.”

“No, but our Mrs. Anderson isn’t very nice to her, either,” Elin said. “So are we in agreement? Should we help her stay here as long as she can?”

Everyone nodded. Elin was bending to pick up a pile of drapes for the second time when she heard her employer shouting upstairs. She hurried out to the foyer and saw Mrs. Anderson on the balcony outside her bedroom, throwing armfuls of clothing over the railing and shouting at the nurse, Agne.

“This is my house, not Bettina’s! Now get out before I throw you out!”

“You don’t have to fire me,” Agne said, “because I quit!” She rushed down the stairs and scooped up her belongings from the foyer floor, then scurried out the front door with the bundle in her arms.

“Good riddance!” Mrs. Anderson called after her. “And don’t come back!”

Elin stared up at her employer in surprise.

“She was a spy,” Mrs. Anderson said, wagging her tiny finger at Elin. “So, you’d better remember who you’re working for, young lady.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

K
IRSTEN TIED
a handkerchief over her mouth and nose and gave the carpet, draped over the sagging clothesline, a hefty whack with the beater. Pounding several years’ worth of dust and dirt out of the rug was a filthy job, but she had volunteered to do it, hoping to release some of her anger and frustration through hard work.