"Well, maybe they need a parlor maid," Dawn said.
"A… parlor… maid?" Eugenia gasped. "Do you mean they have women like that in the hotels?"
Dawn threw her head back and laughed, making the lace at her neck stand straight. "Honey, a parlor maid is a girl who does work in the hotels and boardinghouses. But only dusting, mopping, cleaning."
"Oh, I see," Eugenia said, blushing once again.
"Are you sure you want that kind of work?" Dawn asked, going to Eugenia, running her fingers through her hair. "Before long, it could take its toll on your appearance. Could make you look old before your time."
"I'd much rather look old before my time doin' that kind of work than doin' the work you and your girls do here."
"Touché," Dawn said, softly, moving toward the door. "But, honey, you get yourself off Myers Avenue. No respectable job can be found here. You go on up to the upper street. That's Bennett Avenue. You'll find the best hotels there. I'm sure you can find someone who'll take you in."
Eugenia had wondered if all of Cripple Creek was like this one segment that she had walked into. Her heart pumped with eagerness to see what she had missed the day earlier. If she had only decided to take the other street, when she had the chance, then none of this ugliness would have happened to her. She grabbed her travel bag and walked behind Dawn until they reached the stairs.
"Now, Eugenia, you remember this," Dawn said, embracing Eugenia. "You can always come back here. I plan to be around for some time now. And I'll always hold a room open for you. I feel we could be the same as sisters. No hanky panky as far as you're concerned."
Eugenia returned the embrace, even though she was remembering that this girl was a thief, a murderess, and a drug addict. Even though she remembered all this she couldn't help but like her. Also she had to remember how Dawn had become to be all those things. It had been none of her own personal preference. She had been led into it all.
"What about Madam Valerie?" she asked, her eyes wide in wonder. "Won't the girls here know?"
Dawn laughed, walking away from Eugenia. "Yes, I'm sure all the girls suspect," she said, lighting a cigarette. "But they're glad I did it, so they wouldn't have to."
"Oh. I see," Eugenia said, gulping hard. "Well, I really must be on my way. Please take care of yourself, Dawn. I still feel you don't belong here."
Dawn turned toward Eugenia, her eyes heavy. "I belong here. Nowhere else. This is my home. And will be my home until I die."
Eugenia walked out the door knowing she would always remember the lost look on Dawn's face. Her eyes were so sad, yet she seemed so innocent in her dress of blue silk, with the tiny lace trimming around the neck and cuffs of her long sleeves. She hurried down the front steps wanting to erase it all from her mind. All of it. The twenty-four hours that she had spent in hell. She forced her legs to move, even though they were still heavy with weakness. And her head, how it ached. But the sun shining, and the view of the upper street that stretched out before her gave her courage to go on.
* * *
Chapter Five
Squinting her eyes against the morning sun's rays, Eugenia continued onward, making her way down a side street, hoping to reach this Bennett Avenue without any further delay. If Dawn was right this avenue held Eugenia's future for her. As described to her, the street she was heading toward seemed to have only the most decent of establishments. Not like the ones that she was fast leaving behind.
She lifted her skirt and stepped up onto a high grade of sidewalk, then stood in awe as she gazed at everything around her. It was as though she had stepped into the future. A cable car was clattering in front of her on its tracks and the street was lined with hotels, department stores, and many other kinds of stores too numerous to imagine. Her eyes swept along this street, seeing the many Victorian-style buildings with their turrets and bay windows. It was as though they were almost asking to be stared at. The bracketed cornices were so pretty and luscious they reminded her of pictures that she had seen of iced wedding cakes in books. Then one house in particular caught her eye. It was located at the far end of this street. It was a three-storied mansion with gingerbread ornamentation and many dormer windows and quaint towers arranged elegantly on its roof. It was too magnificent. She had to wonder who could live in such luxury. At this moment she could only see a gardener trimming the four-foot hedge that fenced the lawn. And through the windows, all she could see were delicate, white lacy curtains. This had been the kind of house that she had dreamed of. She suddenly had the strongest of longing to go to it, knock on its door, and ask to be shown around inside it. She knew that it had to be the most beautiful house in the whole world. But realizing that she was daydreaming once again, she moved down the street, her eyes full watching the throngs of people hurrying along. And the women! How different they were from the ones she had seen on Myers Avenue. Most of these women were attired in cotton frocks trimmed in lace, with dozens of petticoats swaying beneath the skirt as the women moved down the street. And, as she had noticed about the men, they all wore hats. Some more fancy than most wore sunbonnets, with ribbons of satin tied beneath their chins. And Eugenia couldn't help but notice that most women were slender in build with their clothes worn tight at the waist, over their very long, full skirts. She glanced into a pane of glass on the building beside her, noticing her own appearance, the thickness of her waist and the disarray of her hair. She seemed so out of place among these beautiful women, so she hurried on her way, pushing through the crowds, hoping to find this Hillcrest Hotel that Dawn had spoken of. Surely she could find employment there. If not there, then somewhere else. She had to. There wasn't any way that she would return to Dawn's establishment. No matter how hungry she became.
Suddenly, a man caught Eugenia's eye. He was walking toward her. He was attired in heavy riding boots, snug tan breeches, and had guns in holsters at his belt. But what was captivating her most about him was his beard. Her heart began to pound the closer he came to her. Then, just as suddenly as he had appeared, he disappeared inside a building, leaving her to wonder… was… it… Drew? This was the first bearded man that she had seen in Cripple Creek. Could it really be Drew? She hurried onward and stopped before the building that he had entered. She looked upward and noticed the name of the hotel above the door. To her surprise, she had just found the Hillcrest Hotel. And that's where she had seen the man enter. How marvelous it would be if Drew was staying at this establishment. They could once again… meet. She hurried on inside and looked slowly around her. This was the first hotel that she had ever been inside of. And it wasn't at all like she had expected. It was so impersonal somehow, with its lobby so plain and only a few odds and ends placed around the room. Across the room from where she stood she saw a potbellied stove that was only a few feet from a long counter with an opened book on top, placed beside an unlighted kerosene lamp. Then Eugenia's eyes settled on the man whom she was so sure was Drew. He was standing beside a shelf that displayed newspapers. His eyes were looking downward, reading one of these newspapers.
With a pounding heart and fast growing weak knees, Eugenia hurried to his side and touched him gently on the arm. "Drew?" she said, waiting for him to turn to her, recognize her also, and pull her into his arms. But when he turned and faced her fully, she could feel her face reddening, knowing that it wasn't Drew at all. She remembered Drew's piercing blue eyes too well, and the scar above his eyebrow—this man had neither. She began to inch back away from him.
"Yeah?" he drawled, smiling crookedly, showing shiny white teeth. "What can I do for you, ma'am?"
Eugenia could feel the suggestion behind his look that he probably thought her to be one of "those women" from Myers Avenue, even though she wasn't dressed in such a manner. She knew that he probably thought from her bold approach that that was all she had to offer. She felt degraded all over again and began to run from him, still feeling his eyes on her. She stumbled blindly into a short, squatty, elderly woman, knocking an armful of towels from her and o
nto the floor.
"My word, darlin'," the woman exclaimed, bending to pick up the towels. "Where might you be rushin' to in such a dither?"
Eugenia panted breathlessly, taking another fast glance over her shoulder. She breathed more easily when she saw that the man was gone. "I'm sorry, ma'am," she said, stooping to assist in correcting her clumsy attack on this woman.
"You look as though you're all tuckered out and alone in the world," the woman said, standing with her arms full once again, eyeing Eugenia closely. "Am I right?" she quickly added.
"Yes, ma'am," Eugenia uttered, noticing the kindness in this woman's eyes, eyes that seemed to have faded with age, almost swallowed up beneath thick, gray brows. Eugenia self-consciously began to straighten her hair, then the gathers of her skirt. "I be lookin' for work. Mightn' you know of a place that could use me?" she added bashfully.
The old woman laughed merrily, making her large middle shake. "You've come to the right place, darlin'," she said, placing the layer of towels on a chair. "I'm needin' a cook."
Eugenia's eyes lowered. Again she was ashamed for not having learned how to cook. But it hadn't been her fault, it had been her Papa's. He had kept her out in the fields. When she had finished for the day she just hadn't had the desire to stand over a hot cooking stove. But now she almost wished she had. How she needed a job. A job that would get her started in her new way of life, that would eventually lead her to a life of silks… satins…
"I say. I need a cook," the woman said, grasping onto Eugenia's arm, peering upward into Eugenia's eyes. "Do you think that kind of work would please you?"
"I don't know how to cook, ma'am," Eugenia muttered.
The lady drew back, her eyebrows tilting, eyeing Eugenia up and down once again. "Where might you be from, darlin'?" she asked, thrusting her hands inside the front pockets of her blue-checkered gingham apron.
"Just a ways 'roud the mountain," she answered.
"And you never learned to cook?" the woman said, then added, "Tsk, tsk. Your Mama sure did wrong by you."
Eugenia wanted to defend her Mama, but stood her ground, tightlipped.
"But I have other work for you, darlin'," the woman continued, taking Eugenia by the arm, guiding her toward a steep staircase. "We have many beds that need takin' care of each day. Surely you can do that kind of work."
"Yes, ma'am," Eugenia said, knowing that she would most definitely give it her best. But she couldn't help but remember the makeshift bed at her parents' homestead. It had never needed making. It had lain on the floor with only patchwork quilts for its cover.
"And please quit callin' me ma'am," the woman said. "My name's Hannah. Hannah St. Clair. I run this hotel. And I don't like my help callin' me ma'am. It's too formal. I want you to feel as though this is your home. Does that suit you fine?"
"Yes, ma'am," Eugenia said, then smiled and added, "I mean… yes, Miss Hannah."
Hannah threw her head back and laughed throatily. "And don't call me Miss Hannah," she said, her hands rearranging some gray hair that had fallen from the high bun on her head. "I've been a Mrs. many times. More times than I care to announce."
Eugenia looked Hannah's way. She could see how many men could have loved her. Even now in her later years she was still pretty with her short, pert nose, and dimples that occasionally made their way to the surface between the deep lines on her face.
Eugenia stepped high to the last step, then followed Hannah down a long, dimly lighted hallway. She looked on each side of her. There were many closed doors, and each had a number painted on it. She couldn't help but be reminded of the doors on the shacks that she had seen the day before. "Cribs," as Dawn had called them. The names of those women on those doors would always seem to haunt her, making her remember her one night of living nightmares. She shuddered.
"Did you have a chill, darlin?" Hannah asked, touching Eugenia's cheek tenderly.
"No. I guess I'm just a mite tired," Eugenia said, swallowing back a lump that had formed in her throat. The kindness of this woman had brought her home back so vividly in her mind, the way her Mama had always embraced her at the end of the day and the way Papa had always treated her like someone extraspecial.
"Do you want to have a rest before gettin' into your chores?" Hannah asked, opening a door, motioning for Eugenia to enter.
Stepping into the room, Eugenia saw a great mahogany bedstead heading a thick, plush mattress covered by an embroidered bedspread. Her eyes traveled around her, seeing the white cotton curtains, also lined with embroidery trim. A mahogany nightstand stood beside the bed with a rounded globe covering a kerosene lamp.
"This is very nice," she said, walking on around the room on a green braided rug. To her, it was almost as magnificent as what she had seen in the house that Dawn was now in charge of, except the colors had been toned down. Not bright reds, but pale greens, so soothing to the eye.
"While you're workin' here for me, you can have this room as your own," Hannah said, straightening a fold on the bedspread. "And also while you're in my keep, I'll feed you three well-rounded meals a day."
Eugenia could feel Hannah's eyes settling on her middle, and seeing the look she knew that Hannah was thinking that Eugenia had already eaten more than her share. Eugenia's eyes settled on a gilded mirror that hung above a vanity. She could see her unpleasant waist-line and she vowed that she was going to get her waist to match the women's that she had seen today. She knew that she could also be as lovely, if she had the willpower to keep from shoveling the food in. Back at her parents' homestead, that had been all she had to do for a pastime. Eating her Mama's homemade butter, the many pancakes that her Mama had made for her in the mornings, before she left for the chores, and drinking the fresh milk that Eugenia had personally squeezed from her cow's filled udder.
But now she had other things to take up her time, and she knew that she would most definitely keep herself from thinking of food. When she met up with Drew once again she wanted him to be proud of her. She wanted him to take her as his woman, not run away from her as he had already done once. Seeing herself so closely in a mirror she knew why he would do such a thing. She had been good for his manly needs. But for hitching-up with her, she had to make him want her.
"Do you need some rest before startin' with the chores?" Hannah asked once again, starting to leave the room.
"No, ma'am," Eugenia said, placing her travel bag on the bed. "I'm ready to start. Whatever you want me to do. Just tell me."
Eugenia was directed to a closet at the end of the hallway. Inside it were shelves filled with sheets, pillowcases, and towels.
"Each day, we change the beddin' on the beds," Hannah began, lifting sheets into Eugenia's arms. "Now, you make sure you knock before enterin' any room. If no one is there, go ahead and change the sheets and check to see if the hand towels are fresh. If not, place one beside their washstand."
Eugenia stood listening, her gaze leaving Hannah on occasion when a man or woman brushed by them. She couldn't help but let her eyes linger on the men. They were so sophisticated, with their suits of twilled worsted, and freshly brushed felt hats. She noticed that none of them gave her a second glance, making her feel more aware of her appearance, making her grow more determined than ever to make a change in that area.
"And dustmop around the rugs and dust the furniture," Hannah continued, showing Eugenia where the dustmop and dustrag were stored.
Hannah slipped her hands inside her front apron pockets once again, studying Eugenia with a tilted brow. "Do you think you can handle these chores without assistance?" she asked.
Eugenia looked down the long hallway, looking for some girls who might be doing the same chores, but none were in sight. Only the elegant ladies in silk and satin walking gracefully to and fro. "No, Hannah," she answered quietly. "I don't need nobody to help me. I can take care of it all by myself. Don't you worry none 'bout it. I sure will do it good for you."
Hannah laughed good-naturedly. "Okay, darlin'," she said, patting E
ugenia on the cheeks. "I'll leave you to your busy day. Dinner will be served at twelve noon. You can eat with the other workers in the back of the kitchen."
"Yes, ma'am," Eugenia said, then remembered that Hannah wanted to be called by her name. But Hannah had already begun her descent down the staircase, now in her own world of businesses to attend to.
Going to the first door, Eugenia tapped on it lightly, then entered, assured that no one was there. Once inside, she looked around slowly. This room resembled the one that Hannah had so generously given her, except for the curtains and the bedspread. They were of cheaper cotton, without the embroidered trim on its edge. But the furniture was just as expensive, and elegant. She went to the bed, her eyes settling on its disarray. Hating to touch where other bodies had slept she cringed, wrinkled her nose, and began her task. She had to do what was asked of her. She had to make some money to make herself a beautiful lady, so she could have her own way with the world—have her own way with Drew, if she ever did see him again.
Wrestling with the corners of the sheets, Eugenia finally got her first bed made. She stood back and looked at it. She saw deep wrinkles here and there, but she knew that she had done her best and so went on her way to the next room, deciding to leave the dusting and changing of towels for later. She wanted to get the most undesirable chores done first. Then maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Maybe, it could even be fun to remove the dust from such beautiful furniture, to see it shine once again like mirrors. But the beds seemed to mount before her, having ten rooms on this one floor that had been assigned her. By the time she had them completed, she was exhausted. And she hadn't run into any pleasant company either. The people who inhabited the rooms were cool to her, even snubbed her, when some had come to the rooms before she had finished with them. And she still hadn't seen any other hired help. She felt alone in the world, noticing that even Hannah had ignored her at dinner. Hannah had went on her way, eating with a large group of well-dressed people in the dining room. And the one cook that still worked for Hannah only spoke in Japanese, so Eugenia had to eat alone in silence. This made the rest of the afternoon seem very long. But she finally made it to the end of the day, completely tuckered out and hardly having the energy to take a bath.
Eugenia's Embrace Page 6