Crestmont

by Holly Weiss

  “Sure! They’ve got their own personal speakeasy in a boodle bag. Okay, let’s get a move on down to the lobby and you do the next guest.”

  Bessie was on her knees on the landing, wiping up spilled tea. Mr. Woods stood uncomfortably by, holding a tray of broken tea cups, nodding and smiling to guests as they passed. “Please report to Mrs. Woods when you are done here, Bessie.”

  Mr. Woods pulled Zeke and Jimmy to the side. “Boys, what was that all about?” He demanded, clasping his hands behind his back.

  “Nothing, sir,” Zeke said. “I’m just showing Jimmy the ropes, like you asked me.”

  Mr. Woods opened his mouth to say something, gave an authoritative nod and turned on his heel. After he had descended the staircase, Bessie demanded, “What the Sam Hill are ya doin’ in that uniform, Jimmy? Shouldn’t ya be cuttin’ grass or somethin?”

  He flushed proudly, straightening his maroon cap. “Mr. W made me a bellhop this morning, Bessie.” He leaned in and whispered in her ear. “I was tryin’ to find you to tell you I gotta work, so I can’t meetcha tonight, snookie.”

  “Slammin Jack, Jimmy!” Bessie pushed herself to her feet and whacked him with the damp cloth. Why didn’t ya tell Mr. W ya had personal matters to attend to?”

  “Well, look at you, being all tetchy, Bessie.” Jimmy whipped the rag out of her hand and waved it back and forth in front of her nose. “I noticed you weren’t tellin’ him you had somethin’ else to do when he had you wipin’ up somethin’.”

  “I’m off, lovers.” Zeke chirped, trying to steer clear of their squabbling. “You know the ropes now, Jimmy. Got a hot date with my harmonica and a sweet blue-eyed waitress. Thanks, buddy. Because of you, now I’ll get every other Saturday night off.”

  ****

  “I say, Margaret, how do we survive Saturday registration each week? I was showing Celeste Woodford to her room and that damned black cat ran in front of Mae, causing her to spill her tea tray. I want to know who owns that cat and why it is always in here,” William Woods demanded, meticulously straightening the chairs in her office.

  “I don’t know, dear, but it is very friendly. Actually, most of our guests love it. Mrs. Pennington sits on the porch for hours with it curled up on her lap. Just shoo it outdoors if it bothers you.”

  “Well, that’s the least of our worries. I overheard Zeke just now telling Jimmy how to help our guests sneak in their alcohol. He said something about not letting on that one suitcase was heavy with bottles.” He rapped his knuckles on her desk. “I will allow neither local moonshine nor Canadian contraband in this establishment. We will not be party to breaking the Prohibition Act.”

  “Remember, dear, national prohibition states that it is a crime to sell alcoholic beverages. There is no ban on personal consumption. What do you propose we do, William, inspect the guests’ bags as they check in for their stay?”

  “If that is what is needed to maintain our standards, yes.” William reddened.

  Margaret rose. Gently placing her hand on his shoulder, she said evenly, “William, perhaps you feel it is your moral obligation to police the guests, but to inspect their luggage is illegal. The best we can do is to set an example by remaining liquor-free in our establishment in accordance with the law. If the guests want to have a cocktail in their rooms before dinner, I think we had best turn a blind eye.”

  “Your mother would be appalled, Margaret.”

  “And Father would have approved. The guests have a right to conduct themselves as they see fit as long as they are circumspect and respectful of others. I think we can no more ask them to check their liquor at the door than we can demand they attend church services or participate in water activities on the lake.”

  William’s eyes flitted from desk to ceiling, floor and window. The cleft in his chin twitched as he pondered her point. Margaret waited calmly.

  Finally, he wagged a playful finger. “No one can quarrel with those dark, knowing eyes of yours, my dear. Time for me to scout out the gentlemen’s activities on the lawn.”

  “Good, I’ll see to Miss Woodford. She brought a new music box this summer and I know she will want to show it to me.”

  ****

  Mr. Woods made his daily stroll around the grounds to ensure that things were running smoothly. He slipped quietly into the two lane bowling alley. PT was tactfully advising the bowlers on their form. He had quite a knack in dealing with bowlers who liked to brag about the quality of their technique. Tightening his lips in a slight grin, PT gave his boss an imperceptible nod as he erased the slate scoreboard in preparation for a new game.

  PT was the kind of employee William Woods could trust with responsibility and discretion. He was mature, polite, and a man of carefully chosen words. “PT must be twenty-eight by now,” Woods pondered. “I wonder how many more summers we will have him? Soon he will surely find something full-time instead of dividing himself between the Crestmont in summer and Philadelphia in winter. As a reward for his loyalty to us, I must remember to have him play piano for one of our functions.”

  Continuing down the back lawn, he noticed the wood pile was low. Fires in the lobby and parlors provided not only warmth on cool evenings, but more importantly, ambiance. Masculine cries of “Got it!” and “A slam dunk!” greeted him as he paused at the shuffleboard courts.

  He cheered when a round of applause indicated that a game was over. “Mr. Swett, you are a winner again.”

  They invited him to join them, but he waved them away with, “Would love to, but must keep my boys running this place efficiently. I’ll see you tomorrow on the baseball field for sure. Gents, bring your families to our water games on Saturday morning. In my humble opinion, the Crestmont hosts the most exciting sailing races on Eagles Mere Lake.”

  He headed down to the garage and was annoyed to see Otto, white shirt and tie under his dark blue mechanics overalls, sitting on the hood of the Crestmont touring car, smoking a cigarette. Otto jumped down the minute he saw his boss and guiltily squished the butt under his heel.

  “Afternoon, sir.” His eyes struggled to meet his boss’s.

  “Good afternoon, Otto. I noticed the wood pile is very low. Instead of dithering away your time down here awaiting a repair, I suggest you find one of the lawn boys and get to chopping.”

  “I’ll get right on that, sir.”

  “That’s the ticket, Otto. There are times when you can be downright responsible. Come to my office on Monday. I have an idea for keeping the garage open year round for the general public. I’d like to discuss your role in that.”

  “Yes, sir.” Otto tightened the buckles on his overall straps envisioning a brighter future for his mechanic skills.

  ****

  It was Gracie’s Sunday morning to work, but bad dreams woke her up before daylight. She lit the kerosene lamp next to her bed, put on her pink shrug, and decided to get the letter over with.

  Sunday, July 3, 1925

  Dear Lily,

  I sincerely hope you are well and that you and George have found marriage pleasing. I was so proud to stand up for you at the wedding. I think of you often and miss you.

  It must have seemed unbecoming of me to leave home with no explanation. I’ve wanted to write to you, but just couldn’t until now. There was nothing for me in Bethlehem. I felt there was no way to better myself there, to try anything new. I saw myself doing laundry for the rest of my life and couldn’t bear it.

  Lily, I want to sing. Mother and Father would never understand that I had to get out. I want to try to get to a big city and see if I can do vaudeville, to be somebody people would know about and respect. I had to slip away quietly and not tell anyone, so they wouldn’t come looking for me. In doing it that way, I know I hurt you and I’m sorry. Please forgive me.

  Anyway, I’m working this summer at a wonderful resort inn and feel fulfilled. The job is hard, but I have oodles of new friends. As soon as I make enough money, I’ll continue on to a big city. I’ll write again. Sending my love, I rem
ain

  Your sister,

  Grace

  Well, she was trying to make new friends, so that wasn’t a total lie; anyway, she did feel more at home at the Crestmont than she had at home. She neglected to send love to George or her parents, she realized, and she hadn’t left an address for Lily to write back. No matter, maybe she would feel up to that next time.

  ****

  Gracie clattered down the hall with her mop and bucket of cleaning supplies on Monday morning. She stopped short when she saw Mrs. Woods walking deliberately toward her.

  “A moment of your time, please, Gracie.”

  Sure she had missed something in one of her rooms, she said, “I’m sorry, ma’am.”

  “Have you done something to be sorry for?”

  “I’m trying to be thorough, Mrs. Woods, but sometimes I’m a little slow.”

  “On the contrary, you are thorough, and your pace is more than acceptable. That is why I am assigning you three more rooms. You will do 57, 58 and 59 in addition to your regular rooms.”

  “Excuse me for saying it, ma’am, but aren’t those Bessie’s rooms?”

  “Bessie has been reassigned elsewhere. Begin there tomorrow, please.”

  Gracie dipped her head in acknowledgement, her green eyes seeing a pointy nose and freckles swimming in the floor boards.

  “Good day, Gracie.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Woods.”

  ****

  William Woods closed his office door and opened the bottom drawer of his desk. He fingered through several ties and pulled out the yellow one with navy diamonds. Whistling into the mirror on the back of the door, he replaced this morning’s blue and gold striped tie with the preferred selection. He admired how it complimented his light blue seersucker suit. The drearier the day, the more yellow he wanted in his tie. He checked his pocket handkerchief in the mirror and aligned his cufflinks. Did he remember what guest had given them to him? A mystification to tackle another day.

  He rocked on his heels and said, “Time for work, Woods.”

  His wife slipped through the open door. Two inches taller than he, she peered down and brushed a few wisps of his plentiful sandy, silky hair into place. “Afraid the sun will not poke through that gray, dear?” Margaret said, gently fingering his new tie.

  “Good morning, Margaret. I was just selecting the hymns for Sunday’s hymn sing and am considering doing a solo on ‘Rock of Ages.’ Do you recall us singing that last week? Celeste Woodford, the Penningtons and the Swetts are here for a month and I don’t want undue repetition.”

  “If you would write down the hymns you select, William, you surely could recall what you have sung.”

  “Hm, I shall have to remember to do that. Margaret, my dear, you would have been proud of me this morning.” His words erupted in crisp, staccato phrases. “Agnes Swett hurled me an insult. I dodged.” Margaret’s brown eyes widened with interest. “She was fussing. Remember we could not put her in Room 1—you know—with the private balcony she had last year? I shot her an explanation—off the top of my head, of course. We had purposefully put her in 34 at the west end of the hall so she could enjoy a superb view of the lake—she perked up at that—and dispense her vast knowledge of the Crestmont with guests that share the public balcony.”

  “Well done, William. You always handle Mrs. Swett with great aplomb.” She applauded softly. “We must move to another topic, however.” Margaret explained that Gracie, in cleaning servants’ quarters as the newest housemaid, was receiving low tips, although she was a good worker. Bessie, on the other hand, was slackening her effort on the preferred front second floor rooms.

  “I refuse to abrogate her of responsibility, so I reassigned her to cleaning the staff dining room and gave Gracie three of her guest rooms. Perhaps if Bessie has less tip money to spend on eyeliner and chewing gum, she will take her job more seriously. In the short term, I suspect, she will be angry enough to cause trouble. I would let her go, but I feel it is part of my job to teach my girls responsibility.”

  “And how will this affect the guests, Margaret?”

  “The ones staying in 57, 58, and 59 will be happy for cleaner rooms, I suspect.”

  ****

  Gracie raced to her room after her shift, quickly changed into her skirt and blouse and grabbed her dirty clothes to take to the laundry. She stole down the back steps checking to make sure Bessie wasn’t around, and ran down the back lawn. Relieved to see Olivia and Isaiah on the laundry porch, she headed toward them.

  “Hey, Gracie,” said Isaiah. “Bessie was in the kitchen looking for you before I came down here to take my break.”

  “Oh, no. Please don’t tell her where I am!” Gracie shot a nervous glance back toward the big house.

  “Gotta run, Olivia, my love. My break’s over and I’ve got twenty chickens to season and truss before they go in the oven. Tough life keeping the Crestmont table famous.” He kissed her gently murmuring, “Tonight, sweet.”

  She smiled and her blush made her copper skin glow. Gracie envied the tenderness in Olivia’s eyes as they followed Isaiah up the hill. Her friend turned and examined her with kind concern.

  “What’s wrong, Gracie? You’re upset, I can tell.”

  “Mrs. Woods gave me some of Bessie’s rooms and Bessie is going to be red in the tooth and claw mad at me. Oh, honestly, Olivia, she is one of the meanest people I ever met. She’ll blame it all on me, you wait.”

  “She probably will. I’ll bet she feels threatened because Mrs. Woods likes you.”

  “Well, if she catches me down here, she’s likely to put me through the wringer of Magdalena’s biggest washing machine.”

  “Gracie, I’m sewing a burnished rose charmeuse gown for Miss. Woodford for the Saturday night dance. Would you like to see it?”

  “Yes, hide me, please.” Gracie said as they made for Olivia’s dressmaking room at the rear of the building.

  When she left Olivia’s shop, Gracie snuck back around to the front of the laundry, hoping to avoid Bessie. She was relieved to see PT lounging in a white rocker, his gangly legs crossed and propped up on the railing. His thin fingers raked his hair out of his eyes, and then stroked his brown mustache. Some of the lightest hairs caught the afternoon sun.

  “So what’s the scuttlebutt, Gracie? Bessie livening up your life any?”

  “How did you know?”

  “Just figured, you being new and all. That’s what Bessie does. The more people she can make feel small, the happier she is.”

  “Oh,” she sighed, slinking into a rocker. “Have you seen her? She’s trying to find me.”

  “Yup. Just went into the big house.”

  “Good. I’m safe for awhile.”

  “So why did you leave home?” he asked abruptly.

  Her right eyebrow shot up. “How did you know…?”

  “Oh, I know the look. Catches me in the mirror sometimes when I shave. Besides, I carried your suitcase inside on that first day. Too light to have much more in it than the two books you told me you packed.”

  Flustered, she felt like a small child caught in a trespass. She stuck out her chin and blurted, “I’m only here for the summer and then it’s off to a big city to be on the stage.”

  “On stage doing what?”

  “I’m going to do vaudeville. I can sing, you know.”

  “Oh yeah, up there on the boards with the acrobats and trained seals. Hard to believe you want to go on tour and live out of a suitcase for ten weeks.”

  “Oh, what do you know about it, PT?” She was angry because he made her dream sound sordid.

  “Not much, I guess.” He snapped his suspenders and got up.

  As he made his way up toward the bowling alley, she shouted, “Why did you leave home?” Horrified at her outburst, she clamped her hands over her mouth, ducked her head, and ran for the big house.

  ****

  Safe in her room that night, Gracie placed her writing tablet on her lap and turned to her list of things to work on.
Organizing it a little, she added “Make New Friends” and wrote “Dorothy” underneath. Thinking how kind it was of Olivia to take Gracie back to her workshop to protect her from Bessie, she wrote “Olivia.” She started to write PT’s name but then erased it, deciding that two conversations did not a friendship make, especially since today’s was a fiasco in her opinion.

  Lifting her jewelry box off the dresser, she emptied it and counted her tips. Turning to the next page in her tablet, she examined the tally of her savings.

  Total upon arrival = $6.00

  June salary = $15.00

  Tips as of June 30, 1925 = $2.25

  She added “Tips as of July 12 = $2.75,” biting the pencil while she added the total. Twenty-six dollars. She was pretty sure a new dress would be at least half that amount. She wanted to buy sheet music so she could learn some new songs before she went on the road. A stylish hat and gloves would cost her dear as well. Sighing, she wrote these down under “Need to buy”. She set the latest tips aside to put in the hotel safe with the rest of her money. She had not permitted herself to buy anything since she had arrived at the Crestmont, but she would soon need toothpaste and soap. Mrs. Woods had mentioned better tips when she revised Gracie’s room assignment. She wondered if Mrs. Woods had any inkling about her financial predicament.

  IV

  Gracie’s new rooms were a whole new world for her. Now she got to see what the high-end guest accommodations were like. The rooms were graced with two twin bedsteads of fine white enamel instead of a lonely twin mattress on a frame. The hardwood floors gleamed. Two windows were topped with a gold fabric valance with tasseled fringe. Venetian blinds kept the sun out. In addition to a bureau and wardrobe, each room had a desk which she was to keep stocked with Crestmont stationery. Next to the beds were electric call bells for the bellhop and a potted plant. Gracie regularly checked the transoms over the doors to make sure they opened and closed easily, then left them just slightly open for some air circulation. She was proud of herself for thinking of one little extra to please the guests, just like the Woods would want.