by R A Wallace
Delia looked down at some of the sacks. Although many of the labels specified wheat flour, others said barley. “The new flour restrictions,” she murmured.
“What?” Hazel glanced at the flour. “Oh, yes. We’re no longer asked to have wheatless meals with a fifty fifty ratio of wheat and substitution.”
Delia tried to remember what the newspapers had begun to publish very recently as she glanced at the barley labels on the sacks again. “You are now allowed to use only twenty percent of the substitution cereal mixed in with the wheat?” At Hazel’s nod, she continued to take a cursory inventory of the room. “There is still a shortage of sugar, is there not?” Delia knew that hotels and restaurants were required to follow stricter rules for food conservation than households. She wondered again how one would go about feeding hundreds each and every day with all of the restrictions.
“Yes, of course.”
“And you’re certain the thief is taking the food from here?” Delia thought it a fairly easy task to secure a single storeroom.
“What?” It took a moment for Hazel’s eyes to focus on Delia. “No, of course not. There’s the bakery and the fruit cellar.”
“You have a fruit cellar?”
Hazel continued. “And the kitchen steward has his own storage area.”
“Kitchen steward?”
“Well, of course. The kitchen steward is responsible for ensuring my kitchen is supplied with things like fresh meat already processed to meet the needs of my menu.”
Multiple locations under the purview of various people made securing the food more difficult. “Where is the bakery?”
“They occupy an older part of the building.” Hazel led the way out of the room. “It’s a vast improvement over years past.”
“The heat of the ovens,” Delia said as she followed Hazel through a warren of hallways.
“Exactly. I no longer have to suffer through it.” She paused at the entrance to another room.
Inside Delia could see several men working around tables with knives and saws as they butchered the meat.
“The kitchen steward,” Hazel mouthed silently. She walked past the door before she began speaking again. “They have their own cold storage room to store the meat. It’s attached to their work room just as mine is.”
Delia followed Hazel. She smelled the bakery before they reached it.
“They make all of the breads, cakes, and pies here.” Hazel paused again.
“They’re missing items also?” Delia asked.
Hazel led them away from the bakery. “When I first approached them about it, the steward and the head baker, they both said no.”
“Something happened afterward?” Delia continued to follow Hazel farther into the building.
“They both started to question themselves. They’re wondering now if they aren’t missing a little here and there over time. I reminded them that we’ve just started back with classes. There may have been a lapse in between.”
Delia made the connection. “After the summer term ended and the current term began.”
“Exactly. I told myself I was imagining it in the summer. Then it stopped for a time.” Hazel paused again. “This is the fruit cellar. As you know, we have our own orchard here.” Hazel opened the door.
Delia thought of the path she took from Hazel’s house to the school. “And a sizable garden, as well. Though I’ve seen more than one.”
“Yes, in addition to vegetable gardens, there are also herb gardens.” Hazel turned to look at her as though just remembering something. “The root cellar.”
“Have you checked it also?” Delia asked.
Hazel sighed loudly as she shook her head. “I don’t want to get anyone into trouble. I wish all of this never happened.” She backed out of the fruit cellar. “You have to understand that the food shortages have been difficult for all of us.”
“But more difficult for some than others,” Delia finished as she followed Hazel out.
“Although the newspapers are saying we are no longer required to follow a schedule for meatless days, as well wheatless, the truth is that not every family can afford to eat meat every day anyway.”
“You’re worried someone is trying to feed their family?”
“It’s very possible,” Hazel said. “And very possibly it’s a family from Glennon that I’ve known all my life. I would rather we deal with this quietly. You will help, won’t you?”
“Me?” Delia felt a tremor of excitement pass through her.
It was a feeling that she had missed for far too long. The fact that she might be able to help Hazel in the process was all the more compelling. It was only fair that she should try to repay the woman for her many kindnesses. Delia would be entirely on her own in the world without Hazel.
Hazel gave her a pointed look. “I suspect you didn’t spend all of your time in front of a typewriter while in the service.”
Delia gave up pretending that she wasn’t eager to help. “It would have to be around my teaching schedule.”
“Of course. You don’t want to be obvious about your queries. Who knows what might happen if this comes to the attention of the wrong people?” Hazel pulled her apron up again to wipe her hands on it. “I just hope it isn’t one of the girls from my kitchen.”
“You think it might be?” Delia asked.
“They’re young,” Hazel said. “Even if they aren’t the ones taking the food, they easily could be influenced by others.”
Delia thought of the many flirtations she had watched during the course of the morning while the students scheduled their classes. “With any luck, we’ll know soon.”
Hazel began walking back toward her kitchen. “There’s also the domestic science kitchen. They have their own storage.”
“Any other food sources I should know about?” Delia asked.
“Well, I have my own cold storage area attached to the kitchen, as I said. Then there are the chickens, of course.”
“Who maintains all of this? The chickens, the gardens, and the orchard. I feel certain there is more I don’t know about yet.” Delia threw Hazel a glance as they walked down another hallway. “It seems quite the undertaking.”
“Arch oversees it all. Arch Keaton. He’s the groundskeeper here. The students help, of course. It’s part of their instruction to learn how to manage households so they can teach their own students.”
“I must say that I find it most impressive that you provide meals for so many with all of the restrictions the war has placed on us,” Delia said.
“It can be a battle. It isn’t just Mr. Wilson and his friends in Washington that make up the rules,” Hazel said as she turned a corner.
“What do you mean?”
“There’s a group on campus that is constantly giving me recommendations about conserving food as well.” Hazel shook her head. “Most of them have no idea what it takes to manage a kitchen.”
“A group of faculty and staff?” Delia guessed.
“I’m all for supporting the boys at the front,” Hazel said. “But if the Food Conservation Committee had their way, I’d be working with far less than what I have been. I wouldn’t be surprised if they weren’t stealing the food just so I don’t serve it.”
Chapter Seven
Faye’s prediction that the rest of the upperclassmen would be eager to complete their registration proved true. Though Delia enjoyed having the chance to meet some of her new students and spend time with her new colleagues from the commercial department, she was relieved when the last of her students was signed up for the day.
“We’ll be back at it again tomorrow,” Faye said as they followed other faculty from the gymnasium.
“Perhaps I won’t hold you up as much tomorrow asking so many questions.” Delia noted that the faculty appeared to look forward to their evening as much as the students. There was a comparable display of chatter and laughter as they found their way out into the sunshine.
“You caught on to the system more quickly
than most,” Faye protested. “I imagine you are quite accustomed to interacting with large numbers of people.”
An image of a large group of female yeomen as they marched and were put through various drills flashed through her mind.
“Your expert tutelage today facilitated the process,” Delia assured her.
“Are you ladies headed home?” Mabelle Neff joined them as they walked across the campus away from the gymnasium.
Delia didn’t hesitate to take advantage of the moment. “I was thinking I might explore my new surroundings a bit more. I haven’t had the pleasure of seeing your classroom as yet.”
“We can correct that oversight together,” Mabelle said. “I am very proud of my domestic science kitchen.”
“I will leave you ladies to it,” Faye said with a wave.
Delia thought back to her conversation with Hazel. “Your classroom is in Glennon Hall?”
“It is. As I mentioned earlier, many of my students have assisted in the dining hall over the years.” Mabelle slowed and pointed to another path. “We can get there more quickly this way.”
Delia tried to draw a picture in her mind where the trail would take them. “This leads us to the west side of the hall?”
“I see you have an impressive grasp of direction.” Mabelle nodded to a group of students as they passed by.
“I have had some very helpful guides to assist with learning my way about,” Delia said. “What other classes do you teach?”
“In addition to the various cookery classes, I also teach household management.”
Delia suspected such a course would cover the topics of food supplies and their maintenance. She wondered how to ask Mabelle if any of her supplies were missing.
“A very important topic with the food restrictions we’ve all been supporting for the war effort,” Delia said.
“If you are interested in food conservation, you should stop by at our next meeting.”
“Meeting?” Delia smiled as though unaware of the committee.
“We have a Food Conservation Committee. Faculty are welcome to join. We are all expected to sit on committees,” Mabelle said.
“Yes, so I’ve been told. When is the next meeting?”
Mabelle stopped to open the side entrance door to Glennon Hall. “Tomorrow evening. It’s a small group, but you would have the chance to meet more people and learn about our committee. It is one of the small ways I try to support the war effort.”
“A very worthy cause,” Delia murmured.
“I also enjoy the time I spend with the students sewing articles for the soldiers,” Mabelle said.
Delia followed Mabelle to the domestic science kitchen and watched her open the door without unlocking it. When she stepped inside, the room reminded her of a smaller version of Hazel’s kitchen. There was a door leading to a cold storage area. Another door led to a room that she assumed held the nonperishables. Neither door had locks.
“Most impressive,” Delia said. “I imagine the room is very hectic when classes are in session. However do you manage it all?”
Mabelle surveyed her domain with a practiced eye. “Efficiency is key.”
Delia contemplated asking about keys. She wondered how often they were used and who had access to them. She opted to play her cards a little closer. “We didn’t pass any students in the hallway just now.”
“Students aren’t permitted in the domestic science kitchen unless they are scheduled for class,” Mabelle said. “There are other areas that have the same restrictions.”
Delia wondered how often the restrictions were enforced.
***
Wes walked with Bennie toward the library. “I spent some time in this building as a youth when I visited my uncle.”
“Studying?” Bennie asked.
“Hiding out.” Wes followed the younger man into the building. “At least they had comfortable seating here.”
“Was Miss Bergman here then?” Bennie paused as he looked around for the woman in question.
“Not at that time, no. It was an old grouch of a man with bushy eyebrows that wiggled when he was most angry with me.”
“I imagine that didn’t help.” Bennie waved to Mena in the far corner of the library.
“Not in the slightest. Made me laugh every time to watch the tufts of hair dancing about as he administered his sternest reprimand.” Wes followed Bennie to the corner and greeted the librarian. Bennie handled the introductions.
“Your family name sounds familiar,” Wes said. “Are you from Glennon?”
“Yes. I believe our paths may have crossed in our youth. It is kind of you to include the library on your tour,” Mena said.
“Not at all. I have fond memories of the place,” Wes said smoothly. He heard Bennie cough behind him.
Mena gave them a brief tour before they were on their way elsewhere.
“An improvement over the old grouch?” Bennie asked as he led the way to the kitchen.
“Most definitely. I doubt her face would have mottled in anger at finding a young boy sleeping on one of her chairs.”
“Now that you are the principal, I daresay even the grouch wouldn’t comment upon finding you.”
“Acting principal,” Wes said automatically.
He ignored the look of surprise the young man gave him. He saw a familiar figure in one of the gardens checking on his plants as they walked past. A young boy was with Arch but ducked behind him when he saw Wes.
“The head chef is Miss Hazel Markham,” Bennie said. “She has been at the school for many years.”
“Markham? Is she from the area?” Wes followed Bennie into a side entrance of Glennon Hall.
“Yes, sir. I believe so.”
Wes couldn’t place the name as he followed Bennie through the hall. They paused at the entrance to the kitchen and watched the activity as the women worked on the evening meal. Wes did not wish to interrupt them but the woman who appeared to be in charge turned and saw them there. He wondered at the flash of panic he thought he saw in her eyes.
Bennie took a few steps into the room. “Miss Markham. We won’t intrude. I am showing Mr. Glennon around the campus.”
“Good to see you here, sir.” Hazel Markham’s smile seemed genuine.
Wes wondered if he imagined the look in her eyes. “Good to be here.” He listened attentively as the head chef introduced him to the others in the room.
“We won’t keep you,” Bennie said as he stepped from the room. “In addition to the head chef, there is also the kitchen steward and the head baker.”
“Their names are?” Wes asked as he followed Bennie through the warren of hallways.
“Melvin Bower is the kitchen steward. Our baker is Crawford Stiles.”
When they reached the room with the steward, Bennie paused in the doorway again for just a moment before stepping inside to handle the introductions. Wes spoke with each of the men around the room as they paused in their task of preparing meat for a future meal. His eyes fell on the young boy he’d seen earlier in the garden.
“This is Sam,” Melvin said with a nod toward the young boy. “He helps with our conservation efforts.”
Wes looked at the discarded pile at one end of a long table. He knew the animal fat would be sold and used to make soap and other necessities for the war including the all-important glycerin used in explosives. He assumed young Sam was tasked with helping to get the fat to the soap maker.
“We won’t hold you up,” Bennie said as he led the way from the room.
“Most impressive,” Wes murmured as he followed his guide to the bakery.
Chapter Eight
By Tuesday afternoon, Delia was feeling like an old hand at scheduling students for classes. Having Faye, the stenography teacher, on one side of her and Harriet, the bookkeeping teacher, on the other side gave her the support she needed to make it through the day with the first and second year students. Toward the end of the afternoon, the trickling line finally stopped altogether.
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“Well, then. I think that does it.” Faye began gathering the charts together.
“Thank you both for making it seem easy.” Delia added the remaining book lists to Faye’s pile of charts.
“We’ll be right down the hall from you if you have any questions in your classes tomorrow,” Harriet said as she took half of the pile from Faye.
“Are you going our way?” Faye asked as she led the way to the exit.
Delia thought of Hazel’s predicament. “Only part of the way. I have some things to see to before my meetings later.”
“We’ll see you at the meeting tonight?” Harriet asked.
“Yes, of course.” Delia stepped outside. “It looks like we might be done with the rain for now.”
“I won’t complain about this weather,” Faye said as they followed the walkway toward Glennon Hall. “I would be happy to have temperatures in the seventies every day of the year.”
Delia nodded her agreement as she considered her options. She needed to learn more about the food storage. It was the best way to determine how it was being taken. Hazel was able to provide only the barest amount of detail. She needed to get to the source. When they neared the gardens, she separated from the others with a promise to see them later.
It took several minutes for Delia to find the groundskeeper. He was working near a small white building with a lot of glass windows. She assumed it was used as a greenhouse. He saw her coming and straightened from his task as she neared him.
“Mr. Keaton? I’m Delia Markham.” Delia offered her best smile. “I was hoping to ask you some questions, if I may.”
“This is about your cousin’s suspicions?”
His face had a lived-in look. Deep lines bracketed his mouth and forehead. More lines angled down from the corners of his wary blue eyes. He reached up and adjusted his soft, small-brimmed work cap before allowing it to settle back on his head. Delia caught a glimpse of faded red hair showing signs of gray.
“You do not seem surprised to see me. Can I assume Hazel has spoken with you?” Delia took a step closer.