She tracked down Dr. Dewey, who told her to track down Mr. Hammond, who told her to track down Mr. Samuels, who told her to track down John Talbot. Whom she never did find. So she decided to stop back in the kitchen to have a talk with Mr. Daschel, the head cook.
Dameon’s stomach rumbled from the warmth of the hot meal. Somewhere around his third helping of soup, he began to feel his toes again. He’d have to be careful going home. Frostbite could be a real problem.
His petite rescuer hadn’t returned yet. He didn’t know how long he should wait. But walking back to Massachusetts wasn’t high on his priority list. What would his parents say? All this time gone and nothing to show for it. If he had competed and lost, that would be one thing. At least he would have tried. But to come and discover he had no opportunity at all—that would be hard to excuse.
Dameon watched other athletes come in, pick up a tray of food, and sit down in groups. He’d never seen this many people in one place before. And so many different languages. How could a person understand what was going on?
The dark, short-haired head of his rescuer popped around the corner. Her smile lit up the room—or was it his heart? Either way, it was the prettiest smile he had ever seen.
Jamie sat down beside him. “I’ve got some good news and some bad news. I found you a day’s worth of work.”
That can’t be the bad news, he mused.
“Unfortunately, it’s washing dishes.”
Ah, that’s the bad news.
“I’m sorry; it’s the best I could do on short notice.”
“It’s fine, honestly. I don’t mind washing dishes.”
“You will when you see the mountains of them back there.” She winked.
“Oh, well, I guess I’d better start.” He glanced over at his backpack. “Is it all right to leave my pack there?”
“Sure.”
Dameon extended his hand. “Thank you, Miss Jamie. I appreciate all you’ve done for me.”
Her cheeks glowed with a delicate blush. “You’re welcome. If you look for John Talbot, you might find some additional work. I wasn’t able to locate him, and I have to go back to the registration desk.”
“Thanks again.” Dameon headed for the kitchen. A huge pile of dishes towered over the sink. The dumbwaiter was full. Dameon rolled up his sleeves and went to work.
Four hours later, the last dish and piece of silverware were washed and restacked for tomorrow’s breakfast.
“Great job, Dameon. Thanks.” The head cook peeled a five-dollar bill off a wad in his pocket.
“Thank you.” Five dollars wouldn’t get him all the way home, but it would help.
“If you stick around for a few days and haven’t found anything else, come on back and I’ll see what I can do for you,” the cook offered.
It was nearing midnight, and he didn’t have a place to stay. The dining room was dark, with shards of moonlight cutting through at an eerie angle. He found his pack leaning against the wall where he had left it. On top of it lay a folded piece of paper. He opened it. “Dameon, the guys on the U.S. team said you could bunk with them tonight.” There were brief directions to the cabin. He folded the note and put it in his pocket. Thanks, Lord. You’ve provided before I had time to ask.
Making his way through the quiet Olympic village gave him a feeling of hope and anticipation. Finding the cottage, he knocked lightly on what he prayed was the door of the appropriate room. “Dameon Grant?” a male voice whispered.
“Yes,” he whispered in response.
The door opened and someone pulled him inside. “Shh, the coach would have a fit if he knew what we’re doing. Jack’s staying at home tonight, so you can bunk in his bed.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Name’s Herbert Taylor. I’ll introduce you to the rest of the guys in the morning. Jamie Preston said you came all the way to compete. Any good?”
“I think so.”
Herbert turned and looked at the blade of his skate. “If you’re fast on these, you’re not too bad.”
“Lights out,” a voice bellowed from the hallway.
“Bunk’s there.” Herbert slipped under the covers of his bed.
Dameon stripped down to his long underwear and slid into the softest bed he’d ever experienced. After a week on the road, sleeping in a small tent and sleeping bag, he was in heaven. Thank You, Lord.
“Jamie, Mrs. Dewey needs your help with the tea tonight. I told her you’d love to give her a hand. It’s a formal tea party with silver teapots and fine china.”
“That’ll be a switch,” Jamie quipped.
“Honey, I know it’s been difficult the past few months, but living here and helping the Deweys has been a blessing.”
“I’m sorry, Mother. I didn’t mean to snap. The room was bitter cold this morning.”
“I know. Your father forgot to stock the woodstoves before bed.”
Jamie took the warm teakettle off the top of the stove and poured herself a cup. “Has Daddy found a way to recover some of his losses?”
“I’m afraid not. We’ve decided not to think about it again until after the games. We’ll deal with it then.”
Her mother placed her hands in her lap and looked down at them. “It’s a difficult time, a real testing of our faith.”
“Are we going to have to move to Greece?” Jamie reached for a breakfast pastry on the plate in the center of the table.
“Most likely.”
If one has to be poor, the Greek Isles is the place to be poor. Jamie pondered the implications. Go back to Princeton and have nothing, or go back to Greece and enjoy life. “It’ll be nice to see everyone,” she said in Greek.
Her mother chuckled and dropped the paper she’d been reading. “What was Martha’s problem yesterday?”
“American arrogance. All the world should speak as they.”
“Ah, and she doesn’t know I’m Greek?”
“Apparently not. But let’s face it, Mother, Martha is one of those flappers.”
“Oh, really? And your haircut isn’t?”
Jamie smiled. They’d had this conversation before. The twenties had been a wonderful time for women. Quite liberating. But Jamie had decided she could never be a true flapper. They were huge risk takers—they smoke, drank, danced, and voted. Oh, she would vote any chance she got, and she wore her hair short, and she wouldn’t mind tapping her foot to a tune or two; but the drinking and smoking were something she’d decided long ago wouldn’t please her Lord.
“I like it short. I like wearing makeup. Is that so wrong?”
“No, dear. Just be careful how you label people.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry. I guess I made the same mistake with that poor man who walked for a week to come here, only to discover he couldn’t even enter the competition.”
“I saw you place a note on his belongings last night. What was that about?” Her mother sipped from her teacup with the grace and fluid movements that showed years of training.
“The guys on the speed skating team said he could bunk with them last night. Jack Shea was going to spend the night with his parents.”
Sophia Preston nodded. If Jamie lived to a hundred, she’d never have the poise and refinement that her mother demonstrated just sitting in her bathrobe. What kind of gene had her mother been given that simply skipped over her daughter? Jamie felt like such an ugly duckling when sitting next to her.
“Is he cute?” Her mother wiggled her eyebrows.
“I hadn’t noticed.” Jamie felt her cheeks burn.
“That handsome, huh? Be careful. You know what happened to me at the first Olympic games.”
Jamie smiled. “Hey, you brought home the gold.”
Her mother took the newspaper and swatted her, then turned serious. “Be careful, dear. All the excitement and energy of the games can turn a girl’s head. Remember, he’s walked for a week.”
“But we barely made it here.”
“That was different. Your father
nearly lost everything in the stock market crash. If it weren’t for a few diverse savings and interests abroad, we would have lost the house.”
“I know, but, Mother, are we any different than a poor man or a man with no home?”
“No. In God’s eyes, we’re no different. But some folks have problems with the different classes. Some folks in our class, for example, wouldn’t have anything to do with you if you were to marry a man with fewer means. And then people from less fortunate classes often won’t want to have anything to do with someone like you because they’ll assume you think you’re more important than they are. I know it isn’t true, but it is the way people operate. It isn’t right, but it is the way of the world. And we do have to make our peace in this world.”
Jamie sipped the last of her tea. “I have no intentions of marrying anyone. He simply needed a helping hand, and all I did was show God’s love and grace.”
“And you went the extra mile. I’m proud of you.” Her mother kissed her cheek, then tapped her on the shoulder. “I need to get dressed. There’s a lot to do today.”
Jamie jumped up and put her plate and cup in the sink. She would do the dishes later. She, too, was running late.
An hour later she pulled up to the country club and found Mrs. Dewey in a tizzy. “I’m so glad you’re here. I need you to oversee the decorations. I’m scheduled to appear with my husband at some other functions this morning.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
“Thank you. You’re such a sweetheart, just like your mother.” Mrs. Dewey plopped a cardboard box in her arms. “Ramon will get whatever you need.” She waved and ran off toward the Olympic stadium.
Jamie looked down at the discarded box and saw pieces of glittering fabric, some candles and holders, some wire, and, she suspected, not a whole lot more. She glanced up at the clock. Eight hours to create the decorations for a large tea party. Why did I get out of bed this morning? she wondered.
“Hi,” a male voice boomed from behind her.
She turned and saw that bright smile of Dameon’s. Her stomach did a flip. “Hi. Did you sleep well?”
“Wonderfully, thank you. I found John Talbot, and he’s put me to work for the day, possibly two.”
“Great. I’d love to stand and chat, but I’ve got a party to decorate.”
He held his cap in his hands and looked down at his feet. “I just wanted to thank you, again.”
“You’re welcome.”
She watched him slip his cap back over his head and walk off toward the ski jump area. Her mother was right; she’d need to guard her heart from the handsome stranger whose smile alone affected her.
Carrying the box of useless decorations to the back room, Jamie rummaged through it. She made a few quick trips to various places and picked up a few odds and ends. She spoke briefly with Ramon and set the menu for the tea, then went back to the farmhouse and removed all the thin white curtains, cut a few sprigs of evergreens, and grabbed a small container of bleach. Back at the country club, she went to work.
Thirty minutes before the tea, she ran back to the farmhouse and changed into her evening gown, then froze all the way back to the country club. Dr. Dewey’s long fur coat would be wonderful right about now, she thought, shivering.
“Marjorie, this is beautiful,” Mrs. Kincaid purred.
“Thank you,” Mrs. Dewey accepted the compliment.
Jamie counted to ten—slowly, very slowly—and stepped closer to the hostess.
“How positively imaginative, Marjorie.” Another compliment flew through the air as the room filled with more ladies. Jamie’s anger reached a boiling point, so rather than create a scene, she walked to the back room, where she’d spent the better part of the day, and sulked.
“Jamie, are you in here?” The familiar voice of Dameon melted away her anger. “Jamie?” he called again.
Chapter 2
Dameon slipped behind the curtain. “Jamie,” he called again.
“Where are you?” Jamie asked.
“Behind the curtain near the front windows. Don’t turn on the light, please.”
“What?”
“I’m sorry. I thought it would be safe to change in here. The men’s room was full and …”
The lilt of her laughter filled the room. “Sorry, I know it’s not funny, but …”
“If they caught me in here and you in here at the same time in my present state of dress, I wouldn’t be worrying about where I’d be changing my clothes or spending the night.”
“True. Your secret is safe with me. Do you need me to find you another place to sleep?”
“No, no, I’m fine. I tore my trousers working on the ski jump and needed to put on another pair. Would you mind handing me a pair of woolen slacks? My bag is by the corner of the table.”
“Sure. Dameon, why did you come all this way?”
He wrapped the curtain around himself tighter. “My father took a loan out on a tractor just before the market crashed. There’s a huge balloon payment due soon. Fortunately, the bank that held the loan has defaulted itself, so we have a bit more time before someone picks up the debt and wants their money.”
“I’m sorry.” She handed him the woolen slacks. “Here.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. You’re a farmer?”
“Yup, from Windsor, Massachusetts.”
She sat down on a chair and faced the wall away from him. There was something more than her kindness that attracted him to her, but those he worked with on the crew today had told him to keep his distance from her. She ran with those in high-society circles.
“What do you farm?”
“Dairy mostly, but we harvest enough wheat to feed the livestock, and we plant a few acres for vegetables. There’s not much cash on hand, but I must say, we always have food on our plates.”
“Do you like the simple life of a farm?”
Dameon’s defenses went up. Perhaps she wasn’t as sweet as he’d taken her to be. “Are you implying—?”
She cut him off. “No. I’m sorry. I’m thinking in terms of less stress, fewer worries. But I suppose any job has its own worries.”
A sigh of relief passed through his lips. He buckled his belt and stepped out from behind the curtain. “My father runs the farm, but I keep abreast of its earnings and expenses. Father has always tried to keep me informed in case of an accident. Mother, on the other hand, she’s quite a woman. I’ve seen her can enough food for an army. Of course, we do eat a lot.”
“Doesn’t show.” She covered her mouth with her hand.
Dameon chuckled and sat down beside her, plopping his boots on the floor. “I’ve been blessed with a thin body. I eat more than most but don’t gain any weight, which is quite an advantage when you love food as much as I do.”
“Now that’s just bragging,” Jamie teased.
“True.” He reached down and put one of his boots on. “Thanks for letting me stay in Jack Shea’s bed last night. I haven’t slept in a bed in a week. It felt wonderful.”
“I figured you’d have something in common with those guys.”
“Hard to say. I got there after lights were out. Thankfully, the coach didn’t catch wind of it. I can’t put anyone in jeopardy again, so I’ll set up my tent down the road a piece and make my way back early in the morning.”
“That’s just silly. My parents and I are staying in this large farmhouse. We’ve got plenty of spare rooms. I bet I could get them to let you stay in one of them.”
“How much?”
“Huh? Oh, you mean rent? Nothing. It’s done all the time. No one charges their friends.”
“But I’m not a friend. I’m a stranger.”
“Oh, right. Hmm, let me think on it for a bit. I’ll see what I can do. Head east out of town, and you’ll be heading toward the farm we rented. I’ll check with Mother before the tea is over.”
“Speaking of which, why aren’t you out there enjoying it?”
“Oh, it’s silly
, really.”
“And?”
“I was just a little put out with Mrs. Dewey. Everyone was complimenting her for the job I did, and she didn’t once let them know who had decorated the room for her.”
“Ah, slight problem with pride, huh?”
She jumped up. “And who are you to tell me that?”
He raised his hands in surrender. “No one, absolutely no one. Sorry I mentioned it.”
“Sorry.” She plopped back down on the seat. “You’re right. I—I …”
“Never mind, you don’t have to apologize to me. Look, I appreciate all you’ve done, but perhaps it wouldn’t be wise for me to stay at your place.”
“Why?” She cocked her head to the right. “Because I have a temper?”
He couldn’t help himself and chuckled. “No, because it wouldn’t appear right—me being a single man, living in your house.”
“Aren’t we getting ahead of ourselves? Don’t I need to check with my parents first?”
“Fair enough. Well, I best get going if I’m going to find a good spot for the night.”
“All right. I’ll look for you.”
“Thank you, Jamie. By the way, what is your last name?”
“Preston, Jamie Preston.”
Of the Prestons who are of the same social class as the Deweys? He should have listened to Herb this morning. He’d said something about the Prestons, come to think of it. He even mentioned her last name last night. Any thoughts of getting to know this woman froze with a cold blast of winter air. She lived in a world he could never enter. He was clothed in a world of flannel and denim, not one where wonderfully crafted evening gowns were donned at night. It was best if he didn’t talk with her again. She was too easy to talk with, and if he talked any longer, he’d want to talk more. Not to mention, he was a man of few words. At least, he had been prior to meeting Miss Jamie Preston.
“Well, good night, Miss Preston. Enjoy the tea, and know that all the compliments are for you, and you’re graciously giving them as a gift to Mrs. Dewey.” He bowed and slipped out the back door. There was no sense creating a scandal. Jamie Preston had enough trouble. Although, at the moment, he couldn’t think of a thing that was wrong with her.
The Timeless Love Romance Collection Page 34
