Dismissed. Just like that.
She stared at him for several seconds, swallowed the bile threatening to clog her throat, and then stood up. “Good night.” Turning toward the door, she determined this would be her last time to ever be in this room. No matter what she had to do. Papa had always been a shrewd businessman. But he’d once been softer. Doted on her. But then her baby brother died and everything changed. It hadn’t been long after that she’d been kidnapped. And then a few months later, Mother died.
Papa was no longer the man she couldn’t wait to see at the end of each day. The man who shared picnics in the park with his family and stories under tents made out of blankets.
That man must have died with his son and wife.
If she thought about it that way, then there really was no guilt to feel about leaving. She’d endured years of his coldness. Given him chance after chance.
This was what she had to do.
When she reached her wing of the house, Louise was waiting for her. “Would you like anything, miss? Perhaps some hot chocolate?”
Louise was always there. Ready to serve. But now, Emma Grace needed her to go. “Hot chocolate sounds lovely, but I’m also in a bit of a mood for something more substantial. I’m afraid I was too nervous to eat much earlier.”
“Would you like me to warm up some of the beef from dinner for you? Or something else?”
“Yes. That would be nice.” She waved a hand. “You can choose. You know what I like.”
“Of course.” Louise smiled and exited. The poor woman likely felt sorry for Emma Grace.
She had a few minutes before her former nanny came back. With a drop to her knees, she reached under her bed and pulled out the bag she’d packed and tucked away. Grabbing a few more things from around the room, she tamped down her fear. She would simply find a way. A new life awaited. A life without all of this.
And she was fine with that.
After she shoved the last items into her bag, she looked at the list she’d tucked into it. A list she’d added to for the past year. Yes. She had everything.
She fetched a coat and hat from the closet and picked up her bag. Without another look back, she padded her way down the hallway. Every step on the plush carpet was taken with care as she listened for any noise. When she reached the landing where she had a view of the massive foyer, voices floated up to her. She slid back and hid behind the wall, hoping they hadn’t seen her.
Peeking around the corner, she saw a gentleman shaking hands with her father. They were both all smiles. Father with his smooth-talking voice sounding ever-so-gracious and welcoming. The other man nodding his agreement. His gray hair and beard making him look old. And boring.
They disappeared into his office, and Emma Grace let out her breath.
Time to go.
A jerk brought her awake. The hotel room was small and stuffy. Three days she’d traveled. Back and forth, north, south, east, west—hoping against hope that if anyone saw her, they’d never be able to say where she was headed. It was a risky plan, but one she hoped would keep any investigators off her trail. Because Father would no doubt send the cavalry out after her.
At first, she’d taken the new open subway cars, zigzagging her way around the city as if it were any other day. Then she’d taken a train that took her several hundred miles away. Then a streetcar in another town. Then another train. And another. This last city still had horse-drawn carriages, and she’d taken one to the hotel so she could sleep in an actual bed after two days of attempting to sleep while traveling. She’d registered under a different name and finally fallen asleep after her mind had spun through every possible scenario of how her father would try to track her down.
But today, she would head farther west. A new adventure awaited.
Dressing as quickly as she could, she put on the outfit she’d purchased yesterday. All black. Then the hat with the netting over the front. Also black.
If the mourning attire didn’t deter onlookers, certainly the cut of the dress would. These were not the clothes of Emma Grace McMurray, daughter of one of the richest men in the country. They were a normal person’s clothes.
After breakfast, she hurried to the train depot and bought her ticket. Keeping her head down, she hoped that she looked the part of a grieving woman.
But a newsboy’s words on the platform caught her attention. “Railroad magnate murdered! Read all about it!”
A horrible sensation started in her stomach. Her breath caught in her throat. Her legs wouldn’t move.
Then the boy moved down the platform, shouting his news.
It spurred her into action. She had to know. With quick steps, she caught up with the newsboy, paid him his five cents, and took the paper.
But nothing could prepare her for the front page. A picture of her father. Then a picture of her. And the headline in big, bold print:
Railroad Baron McMurray Found Murdered, Daughter/Heiress Missing
All the sound around her muffled as her vision blurred. Papa was dead? No. It couldn’t be. She tried to scan the article and make sense of it all, but the words wouldn’t come into focus. She blinked several times and looked up. But everything around her spun like the world had turned into a carousel.
Someone bumped into her, and she crushed the paper to her chest. She scanned the crowd, but her mind refused to process anything. There was no sound. Just the roar in her ears.
She closed her eyes against the overwhelming sense that she was going to faint. No. She couldn’t let that happen.
“Ma’am?” A deep voice broke through the roar. “Let me help you.”
Without her permission, someone took her arm and guided her to a bench. She put her bag on the ground at her feet and realized she felt better with her head down. So, she laid her arms on her lap and kept her face buried there in the fabric.
Her dress. It was supposed to be a disguise. And yet it now told the truth of who she was.
Her father was dead? How could that be? She’d left without saying good-bye. Her heart pinched under the weight of living with that fact. Their last words to each other played through her mind. Angry, ugly . . . harsh words. Would they haunt her for the rest of her life?
What did this mean for her? Oh no. The men with the contracts… she swallowed against the thought. Her age made her more vulnerable than ever.
A few minutes passed, and her ears opened up to the world again. Steps shuffled around her. Voices chatted back and forth. Trains hissed.
Lifting her head, she glanced around. No one seemed to care about the grieving woman on the bench. She saw the crumpled paper in her lap and smoothed it out. As much as she wanted to read it, she couldn’t. Not yet. Not until she was on her way. The urgency to flee grew inside her. No matter what, she had to run.
She stood up on shaky legs. She needed to get as far away as possible.
Panic built inside her as the conductor called, “All aboard!”
Keeping her head low, she picked up her bag and headed for the train. Tomorrow, she’d read the paper. Then she’d make a phone call. Just the one. Then she’d know the gravity of her situation. But it couldn’t be good.
Right now, the only hope she had was her plan.
1
JANUARY 1905
ARIZONA TERRITORY
Something touched Emma Grace’s shoulder. But she was so tired, her eyelids too heavy.
“Next stop, Grand Canyon and El Tovar!” The shout jolted her fully awake. Clutching her bag to her chest, she blinked away the last vestiges of dreams in her mind. The three-hour ride from Williams, Arizona, had passed in the blink of an eye. At least it seemed that way . . . probably because she fell asleep. Not something she was prone to do, but not sleeping for three days straight as she traveled across the country had obviously taken its toll.
With a deep breath, she sat up straighter and swallowed down every emotion that tried to climb up her throat. Working for the Fred Harvey Company the past five years had brought her to th
e top ranks. When she heard the El Tovar would be opening, she put in her request that very day. It was Harvey’s crown jewel, after all. But why was she doubting? She was good. All her managers even wrote the best on her recommendation letters. She deserved this, didn’t she?
The job would be great—this was something she could do almost with her eyes closed now. But the jitters in her stomach persisted. It was starting all over again that intimidated her. Five years she’d done it, at seven different Harvey Houses along the rail line. Each time it seemed to get more difficult. But her circumstances demanded it. She needed to increase the distance between her and Boston. A new place was necessary.
This was the farthest west she’d ever been. And it was remote.
But was she far enough away that he couldn’t find—
“Miss Edwards?” The conductor held out a slip for her. “This is for your luggage. But not to worry about it, they will take it directly to your room.”
She pasted on a smile. “Thank you.”
“I know Miss Anniston is looking forward to your arrival.” The man gave a small nod.
Emma Grace put a hand to her throat. “I’m looking forward to it as well.” The fact that the conductor on the train, in addition to some of the railroad personnel in Williams, had spoken of Miss Anniston and her anticipation of Emma Grace’s arrival made her throat a bit dry. How lovely that the woman had spoken so highly of her, but would she be gracious and kind? Or would she be a tyrant?
That remained to be seen.
A couple of the head waitresses Emma Grace had worked under were hard—almost to the point of being callous and mean. No two ways about it. But it had made her a better waitress, and if she were honest with herself . . . a better person as well. The training had been difficult, but she had the upper hand of knowing what customers expected in fine dining establishments. She’d lived that life. Been that customer. It gave her a bit of an edge, but she realized quickly how much she truly had to learn about humanity.
Even though she loved being a part of the working class, there were times she had to remind herself about her position in society. She couldn’t speak to people the same way she could as Emma Grace McMurray. Not that she had ever been a snob—oh, she prayed she hadn’t been—but speaking her mind had been her norm. As a socialite, she could do that. As Emma Grace Edwards, she could not.
Was she doing the right thing? The same question haunted her everywhere she went. She lifted her reticule to her lap and opened it. The aged newspaper article’s edges peeked out of the side. But she shoved it deeper inside the bag. Now was not the time. She practically had it memorized, anyway.
This was what new situations did to her. They brought up the past and everything that went with it. All she wanted to do was move forward. Live a simple life. But after all this time, she doubted it was possible.
Still, it didn’t keep her from hoping.
The whistle blew, and the train slowed. As it chugged its way into the depot, she took a moment to straighten her hair and pin her hat back into place. It was nice to not have to deal with the wigs anymore, nor push glasses up her nose. It had been five years since she’d let her blond hair be seen. Five years of disguises, different at each place she’d lived.
But it was time to let her natural look be her new disguise. No one had recognized her in all this time. And it wasn’t like she hadn’t matured over the years. For too long she’d been thin and scrawny—too thin. But she found out the hard way that not eating wasn’t a good way to be able to withstand the rigors of her job and its twelve-hour shifts. After a bath one evening, she’d even passed out. When she finally allowed herself to eat and fill out, she found she liked her sturdy frame and curves. She didn’t look at all like the young girl who’d run away from . . . everything.
She shook her head of the thoughts and gripped her reticule. That was the past. And it needed to stay there. No man would control her. No one would ever fool her again. No chance that money would dictate her choices. She loved her job and her life. And she had the opportunity for a completely fresh start here, one that hopefully would include new friends and a warm atmosphere. Like family. Something she’d craved for far too long.
As long as it wasn’t anything like what her family had become.
The brakes hissed, and the train stopped moving. Out the window, the snow-covered, rocky landscape appeared dry and dusty and was dotted with scrubby-looking trees—some tall, some short. It certainly didn’t look like much. Could one of the most glorious wonders of the world really be here? She’d seen photographs of the Grand Canyon. It was hard to imagine that such a place even existed.
Passengers scooted out into the aisles of the train. It was time.
Time to face this new world and tackle her job.
The past didn’t matter. All that mattered was here and now.
With rhythmic steps, they all shuffled down the aisle toward the door. Emma Grace took a peek around the man’s shoulder in front of her. Only a few more steps and she’d have some fresh air and room to breathe.
She closed her eyes for a moment and then stepped forward again. It was almost her turn to disembark. What she wouldn’t give to be able to stretch all of her muscles—touch her toes and reach for the sky—but that wouldn’t be very proper. She’d have to wait until she was in the privacy of her room. Whenever that would be.
Another step.
Oh, it made her antsy. Only one more person, then she could get off this train.
The conductor nodded at her as he tipped his cap. “Enjoy the most amazing wonder you’ll ever see.” His smile was genuine as his eyes twinkled. “I look forward to seeing you in the dining room.”
“Thank you. I look forward to it as well.” Emma Grace turned toward the steps and ventured down.
As she exited the train, the chill of the air took her breath away for a moment, and the wind threatened to take her hat with it.
A lovely dark-haired woman approached. Probably a good ten years her senior, she was still young and beautiful and seemed nothing like the harsh spinster barking out orders that Emma Grace had dramatically conjured up in her mind.
Several inches shorter than Emma Grace, the woman had a soft, warm appearance and moved with confidence and grace. Her hands tucked into the pockets of her long black coat. One eyebrow quirked upward. “Miss Edwards?”
“Yes.” She stepped forward as butterflies filled her stomach. Why was she so nervous? She’d done this many times and had years of experience to rely upon. “I’m Emma Grace Edwards.”
“Welcome to El Tovar. I’m Ruth Anniston, head waitress.” She tilted her head toward what appeared to be the hotel. “Let’s get you out of the cold and settled. The rest of the girls don’t arrive for another two days.” While the greeting wasn’t at all unamiable, there was only so much to ascertain in the brisk breeze and bitter temperature.
“Oh? How many are you expecting?”
“Twenty-five in all. We’ve hired the best of the best. And while they’ve all been Harvey Girls for at least a few months, there will be training for the El Tovar in particular, as it is expected to attract the most elite of clientele. You—along with the other senior waitresses—will be assigned a trainee.”
That made Emma Grace’s nerves jitter even more. Would Miss Anniston approve of her? It was so important for her to make a good impression. She wanted this job to last for a long time. Hopefully for the rest of her life.
Following the woman from the rail tracks to a set of stone steps that would take them up the hill, she gazed at the massive structure. As she made her way up the steep incline, the large building loomed in front of her. This side of it was a half-hexagon shape. From where she stepped, she could see that it stretched in length for a substantial distance before her. The large stones at the foundation were topped with giant logs and then more dark wood siding as the building rose for several stories above her. Basement . . . one, two, three stories. Was there even a fourth up there? As they walked around a
nd up the hill, she noticed a turret at the top that seemed to almost touch the sky from this angle. Was that in the center of the hotel? She got dizzy with her neck craned back.
While its height was not much compared to the tall buildings in the cities back east, this one stretched out in breadth even more than its height. The closer she got, the larger it loomed. Its unique design drew her in. “It’s a lovely hotel.”
“Mr. Whittlesey—the architect of El Tovar—envisions it as a mix of Swiss chalet and Norwegian villa. Would you agree?” Miss Anniston stopped and gazed up with her.
Emma Grace did indeed agree, but she didn’t dare say that out loud. The real Emma Grace had seen Swiss chalets and Norwegian villas, but Emma Grace the waitress most certainly wouldn’t have had the privilege of vacationing in Europe. So, she shrugged. “I can’t say that I have an opinion one way or the other.” She let out a light laugh, hoping to convey the innocence of a poor young waitress. “It’s a beautiful building though to be sure.”
Miss Anniston started walking again before her abrupt stop outside a basement door almost made Emma Grace collide with her. “You’ll find your way around quick enough. Are you terribly cold?”
What did her question imply? Was this some sort of test for her ability to work here? She shook her head slightly to rid herself of her anxious thoughts. Everything put her on edge when she was in a new place. “It’s chilly, but I’m all right.”
A secretive smile spread across the woman’s face. “Good. Because I think there’s something you need to see before we go inside.” With her hands still stuffed into her coat pockets, she tilted her head again—this time away from the hotel—beckoning Emma Grace toward the west side of the building. “Follow me. Just be prepared—it will get even colder at the rim.”
CHICAGO, ILLINOIS
A centimeter to the left should do. Ray Watkins straightened the pencil jar on his desk. There. Perfect.
Before he could get to the stack of reports waiting for him, he’d have to deal with the chaos that was his workspace. While blowing at a piece of lint on the blotter, he caught something out of the corner of his eye. One of the files on top of the cabinet was askew. He’d have to ask his secretary one more time to make sure he stacked the files appropriately. He walked over to the mahogany cabinet and straightened them. Might as well put them in alphabetical order while he was at it. The satisfaction of the simple task steadied his breathing. As he shuffled them back into a neat position, his mind cleared.
A Deep Divide Page 3