ONE
August 1891
Morita, New Mexico Territory
RACHEL STARED AT THE GATHERING of twenty-five black-and-whiteclad Harvey Girls and smiled. In six years of service she had reached what many considered the unobtainable position of house manager for the Harvey House Restaurant at Casa Grande Resort. It hadn’t been that long since she’d sat where these frightened, freshfaced girls now sat. She could remember her early days of training in Topeka, Kansas, as if it were yesterday. Standards and decorum, Harvey rules and regulations … all of these were drilled and enforced until she could recite them in her sleep. And now it was her job to instruct others.
“If everyone will quiet down,” she said rather sternly, “we will begin.”
Those who weren’t already seated made their way to one of the empty dining room chairs as a hush embraced the room.
“My name is Miss Taylor, and I am the manager of this Harvey House dining room. Casa Grande, as you probably already know, will have its grand opening in three weeks, and we need to be ready.”
Rachel moved around the room, inspecting the girls.
“All of you have had training in Topeka, and most of you have worked at least six months or more elsewhere on the line. There are a couple of less-experienced girls joining us, however, and I want to make it clear that these employees are no less valuable in my eyes and should be treated with the same respect afforded someone who has been with the company for years.” The girls nodded and continued to watch Rachel with expressions that betrayed their curiosity and excitement. Rachel enjoyed getting to know her girls in a collective group, as well as interacting with them one at a time on a more personal level. People reacted differently depending on the audience, and Rachel had learned to recognize troublemakers and those who would refuse to take the job seriously by watching them respond in a group setting.
“In a few moments,” Rachel continued, “you will each be issued a numbered badge. The badges will be used to identify your employment status in this particular Harvey resort. The initial issuance will be based on your time served in Fred Harvey’s company. However, as you progress and perform at levels of extreme competence, you will work your way up and take a higher number.”
“Who decides if your work merits a higher position?” a petite blond-haired girl questioned.
“I will,” Rachel replied, recognizing Ivy Brooks, the niece of the town’s matriarch, Esmeralda Needlemeier. Ivy had already shown herself to be a troublemaker of sorts. She had complained about the uniform, argued about not being allowed to fashion her hair in a more appealing style, and generally made everyone around her disgruntled. Rachel tried to have compassion on the girl, for she was an orphan. Life had dealt her a heavy blow, and Rachel knew full well how that could harden a person’s heart. Nevertheless, Ivy would have to comply with the rules, just like everyone else. It was imperative for the running of Mr. Harvey’s restaurants.
“Miss Brooks, you will come to realize that everything that has to do with you and your position here will pass through my review. Very soon I will appoint a head waitress who will be your immediate supervisor in matters taking place on the dining room floor. She will also help me to determine who might qualify for a step up in the ranks.”
“And who will that be?” Ivy challenged.
“I’ve not yet decided,” Rachel countered, steadily losing her patience. At twenty-seven, Rachel found herself rather intolerant of sassy teenagers. Ivy was barely eighteen and had been allowed to accelerate her training in Topeka and take a coveted position at Casa Grande only because her aunt owned the town and had sold Fred Harvey and the Santa Fe Railroad the land on which the resort had been built. The old woman was to be esteemed and coddled at every turn because of some undone business dealings with the Santa Fe. Ivy knew this and counted on it, but Rachel was undaunted. She would fire the presumptuous teen without remorse or outside influence if she refused to pull her weight. This issue was clearly addressed in one of her many meetings with Esmeralda Needlemeier.
“Miss Taylor?” a dark-headed girl spoke up.
“Yes, Miss Whitehurst?” Rachel questioned, trying hard to keep the correct name with the right girl.
“What type of things will merit a promotion? And, if you go up a number or two, what happens to the girl whose number you take?
Will she assume your number?”
Rachel again came to stand directly in front of the girls. “Each girl will be judged according to her service, attitude, and even her reputation and actions away from the dining room. Your ranking will be determined by your actions. If the girl wearing the number four badge does her job but conducts herself in an improper manner off duty, she will no doubt slide down several notches and others will rise to take her place. And if the girl at number twenty performs in an exemplary manner, while those above her merely squeak by doing what little they can, she will be promoted and they will lose their standing.
“Mr. Harvey is very concerned that we represent ourselves in the utmost of propriety. You are hired here and paid the generous sum of nearly twenty dollars a month and given your clothing, room, and board. And you will generally receive tips from the patrons you service. Your laundry will be collected and done for you, and you will be given one day a week to do with as you please. At the end of your contract, you will receive a pass to go anywhere the Santa Fe Railroad can take you and given time to visit your family or friends.
“In return, Mr. Harvey asks that every customer who comes to dine at Casa Grande, or any other Harvey House for that matter, be treated with the utmost respect and consideration. He demands complete attention be given the rules he has set up, and the design of training for service must be strictly followed.”
She watched each of the young women carefully as she continued to explain their duties. “You will report to your station in the dining room by five o’clock each morning. You will be properly attired in your uniform, your hair neatly contained in a hairnet, and your face void of any powder or paint to enhance your beauty. If I have reason to believe you are wearing cosmetics upon your face, I will not hesitate to take a wet towel to your face and confirm my suspicions. You will then be sent back to your room to repair yourself, and you will be issued demerits for your behavior. It is this type of thing, a blatant disregard for the rules, which will see you lose your standing.”
In spite of how she tried, Rachel couldn’t help but refocus her attention on Ivy Brooks. “No one will be given special favor for any reason other than meriting it for themselves through their work. If I find that you have done a good job on your assigned tasks, you will continue to be valued as an employee. If I find that you have done an excellent job, I will so note and merit your performance. If you should perform in a manner that goes far above and beyond those tasks for which you are responsible, your actions will also be noted and remembered for consideration during such times when promotions are available or bonuses of extra time off are issued.”
She then explained Fred Harvey’s concept of treating each customer as though they were in the finest restaurant in New York City instead of a small resort in a New Mexico town. Several of the girls asked questions regarding the resort and the hours of the dining room, and as Rachel concluded her talk and began handing out the numbered badges, she answered their concerns. She noted the frown on Ivy’s face as she issued her the number twenty-five.
“To begin with, we will assign your work based on hotel occupation. If the resort is full, we will need to maintain a larger staff and therefore your shift may well run twelve hours. If the hotel is less than half full, you will probably be assigned to work one of two shifts. The first shift lasting from five o’clock in the morning until one o’clock, the second shift running from noon until nine that evening. If there should be a special party or festivity such as a dance or a banquet, then you will be assigned according to need. Now, I’d like everyone to go to your stations and acquaint yourself with the duties at each place. I have assigned
you based on your experience. After this, we will do a run-down on serving procedures and hotel etiquette.”
Rachel gave an inaudible sigh of relief as most of the girls went quietly to their proper stations. Some would be responsible for serving drinks, others for taking orders for meals, and there would be linens to care for and silver to polish, along with a dozen other jobs both great and small. It was no easy feat to run a restaurant to Fred Harvey’s demands. Of course, the biggest responsibility given the girls would be their service of the customers. There was additional kitchen staff to help with the odd jobs, but the art of greeting, serving, and seeing to the needs of the resort visitors would fall upon the shoulders of these soberly dressed young women.
Rachel watched them silently for a few moments. Her memories took her back to her arrival in Topeka and the training she’d endured to become a Harvey Girl. The training had been rigorous and demanding, but the work was very satisfying, and Rachel always made wonderful tips in addition to her regular pay. She often found herself the envy of other girls in her house because the regular customers went out of their way to wait for Rachel’s service, and the visiting customers always seemed to tip more generously at her tables than at any other. To Rachel, it was nothing more than taking an interest in their needs.
She listened to them talk, as much as time would permit. And given the fact that they served four-course meals in thirty minutes or less, it didn’t allow for much in the way of idle conversation. Casa Grande, however, would be different. There would be more of an atmosphere of relaxation, although there would be the occasional rush to catch a train. Most of the train traffic would wait until Albuquerque before putting their customers through the paces of the routine Harvey service, but Casa Grande was a resort for relaxation and restoration.
Rachel shook her head at this thought, knowing that personally it would probably not afford her either pleasure.
But I took this job on knowing it would be a challenge. I am the first woman to be allowed to manage the restaurant of a resort hotel, and as such, I must keep my wits about me and show them they’ve not been mistaken to take such a risk with me.
Rachel knew the hardest part wouldn’t be keeping up with the job. The hardest part would be the long, lonely nights of isolation. Ever since her first promotion to head waitress, Rachel had known the pain of being separated from the crowd. She made friends easily, but as the waitress in charge, she often had to rebuke those friends. This in turn inevitably created hard feelings and conflicts. There were exceptions and a few friends had remained, but Rachel had never known it to be enough. She knew the emptiness of a life unfulfilled. A life lacking what she most desired—a husband and family. Refusing to let her emotions get carried away, Rachel refocused her attention on the girls. There were some very promising young women in her group, and she had little doubt that the affairs of the dining room would run smoothly in no time at all.
After allowing the girls to acquaint themselves with their duties, Rachel put them into teams, with one of the more experienced girls heading up each group. They practiced being customers and servers in order that they might have an understanding of the days to come.
With the girls duly occupied, Rachel made her way into the kitchen and found Reginald Worthington reorganizing his new kitchen. A refined gentleman in his forties, Worthington cut a striking figure in the sterile kitchen. Rachel had thought him a handsome man upon the occasion of their introduction, and seeing him now only confirmed her assessment. His brown hair, parted down the middle and slicked back with tonic water, was no less orderly than his kitchen, and his eyes, dark brown and quite appealing, seemed to take in everything around him in a manner that suggested he might well be taking inventory.
“Ah, Mr. Worthington,” Rachel announced with a smile, “I’d like to introduce you to the girls when you have a chance.”
The tall, slender Englishman glanced up from where he sorted through his knives and returned her smile. “Miss Taylor, I would be delighted.”
He put the knives away in exacting order while Rachel watched him in fascination. He knew precisely where he wanted each instru-ment and assigned it a proper place in no less detail than Rachel had used to assign her girls.
“Well, then,” he said, coming from around the massive preparation table. “Let us be about our business.”
Rachel nodded. “The girls, as you know, will report to the head waitress and ultimately to me. Should you have trouble with any of them, I would appreciate it if you would bring the issue to me rather than try to deal with it yourself. As chef, you will have a free hand with the kitchen staff, but the girls are strictly my responsibility.”
Worthington laughed. “And happy is the man who knows his place.”
“I beg your pardon?” Rachel questioned before opening the door to the dining room.
“I’m very glad they are your responsibility,” he replied soberly. “I would no more know how to deal with their tears and tempers than I would know how to construct a building. Women are a peculiarity to me, and save a quiet relationship with my dearly departed mother, I am at quite a loss to determine exactly how to conduct myself with them.”
Rachel nodded. “I wouldn’t worry overmuch about it. We often feel the same way about men.”
“Do tell,” Worthington replied, his thin moustache quivering ever so slightly at the tips as a hint of a smile played upon his lips. “I can’t imagine you suffering from that feeling.”
Rachel looked away, not willing for him to see that the same words that amused him caused her to feel a sharp pang of regret and pain. “I assure you, Mr. Worthington, the enigma regarding men and women is mutually acknowledged and endured.”
She moved through the swinging kitchen doors into the dining room, where her girls were still working amicably together.
“Ladies!” she called, and all heads turned to her. “I would like to introduce the chef for Casa Grande. This is Mr. Worthington. He comes to us from a very prestigious New York hotel at the insistence of the Santa Fe management. His culinary skills are highly regarded, and he will no doubt bring to Casa Grande a flavor of the European continent as he has trained in Paris, Milan, Madrid, and his own native London. You will heed his instruction regarding the serving and preparation of food; however, should any problems arise regarding your conduct, Mr. Worthington will not hesitate to bring the matter to my attention.”
“I’m delighted to make your acquaintance,” the Englishman said, his accent clearly marking his origins. “I shall endeavor to better know each of you as our duties require.”
Rachel thanked Worthington, then turned to address her girls as he returned to the kitchen. “I believe it is necessary to restate something for your benefit as well as for mine. There is to be absolutely no fraternizing of Harvey Girls with male staff members. You are under contract to Mr. Harvey, and in being so, you agree to refrain from marrying before your contract is up. Those of you who have been with the Harvey system for longer than the initial contract realize the importance of these rules. They are for your own good,” Rachel told them, but her mind was taken back to a time when she had been young and in love. Who could have possibly convinced her that such rules were wise and necessary?
It was hard to convince the heart that some matters were better left unexplored. She would, if she could, advise each and every woman before her to avoid romantic entanglements at all costs. Nothing was quite as hard on the spirit as realizing that the only dream you had dared to allow yourself would never come true. And, as far as Rachel was concerned, nothing lasted longer or hurt more than a broken heart. Which was the case with Braeden Parker. Even the mention of his name—the single thought of his smile—caused Rachel to tear up, even as she was just now. Coughing, she excused herself and appointed Gwen Carson, a young woman she’d trained several years earlier in Topeka and the one to whom she’d given the number one badge, to take over supervising the girls in their duties.
Back in the silence of her office, Rac
hel took several deep breaths and forced her emotions to reorder themselves to their proper places. She would not allow Braeden’s memory to destroy her happiness. She couldn’t. He was in the past and that was where he would stay. No matter the cost.
TWO
TWO DAYS LATER, as the girls finished cleaning the dining room after practicing a supper service on area railroad men and hotel staff, Ivy Brooks watched as Rachel took Gwen Carson aside to discuss some matter in private.
This has to stop, Ivy thought. It’s bad enough Gwen gets the number one badge while I have twenty-five. I won’t be able to stand it if Miss Taylor assigns head waitress to her as well.
She finished washing down the last table in her assigned area, then turned to see what her newest follower, Faith Bradford, was doing. Faith, a short, skinny nineteen-year-old whose immaturity irritated Ivy, stood listening to two of the other more experienced Harvey Girls explain their way of clearing a table. Faith, being the rather mindless twit that she was, would be the perfect victim to Ivy’s plots and schemes. Manipulating such a creature would hardly be a challenge at all, but then, it was better that way. Faith would do as she was told without question, and Ivy would never have to worry about informing Faith of her comings and goings, especially when those activities kept her out past the ten-o’clock curfew.
Ivy smiled to herself. I might be the most inexperienced Harvey Girl on staff at Casa Grande, but if I have my way, it soon won’t matter.
When Rachel finished with Gwen, she made another boring speech about the details of Fred Harvey’s beloved system. Ivy found the entire matter unimportant. Her only reason for demanding that her aunt Esmeralda allow her to work as a Harvey waitress was in order to set herself up to acquire a wealthy eastern husband. The railroad restaurants owned by Harvey were, as she had noted in the local paper, notorious for bringing couples together. Ivy would have seen this as an answer to prayer—if she’d been the type to issue such requests. A husband would be the answer to all of her problems. He would be rich enough to see her kept in a fashionable style, with all the comforts she could possibly desire, and he would live somewhere other than Morita, New Mexico. These were the most important requisites for the man she would marry.
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