Golden State Brides

by Keli Gwyn

  On the second floor, they traveled down a long hallway punctuated with doors. “These are rooms for the paying guests. The staff is housed at the end.”

  Meghan hustled to keep up, her bag hampering her. They turned a corner and entered a narrower hall. “Are there a lot of girls working here?”

  “You two make twenty. The minimum I need to run a successful establishment. I asked them to send me at least six experienced servers and they sent me you two, green as tadpoles. Not only did they short me, but they didn’t even take the time to train you properly. Now I’ll have to take over the task.” She let her glance flick over Meghan. “Look at your hair and dress. How am I supposed to turn you into a credit to the company? You”—she motioned to Natalie—“you at least show some promise. Have you ever worked in a restaurant before?”

  “No, ma’am. This is my first job.”

  “Heaven help me. And what about you? I don’t suppose you have any experience either?”

  Meghan tamped down her ire and smiled. “No, but look on the bright side. We won’t have any bad habits that you’ll have to correct. We’re like clean slates, all ready to be trained in the way you see best.”

  This didn’t seem to impress the starchy woman.

  “You two will share a room, the second on the right. You’re expected to keep your room clean and tidy. Inspections are frequent and unannounced. Your uniforms are in the closet. Kansas City sent along your sizes. You are responsible for sending them to and retrieving them from the laundry downstairs.” The tall woman checked the timepiece on her lapel as she stopped before a white door. “Be downstairs in uniform and ready to work in thirty minutes.” She opened the door to their room, stepped back, and turned on her heel to head back the way they’d come.

  “Excuse me.” Meghan almost shouted. She was tired, disheveled, and suddenly fed up with being condescended to. She let her suitcase thump to the floor. The woman stopped, keeping her back to the girls.

  “What?”

  “Do you have a name?”

  “You may call me Mrs. Gregory.”

  Meghan gave in to impulse. She jogged down the hall and circled around Mrs. Gregory to stand in front of her. “How do you do?” She stuck out her hand. “My name is Meghan Thorson, and it’s a pleasure to meet you. I look forward to working with you for the next six months.”

  Mrs. Gregory sniffed so hard her nostrils sucked inward. “Miss Thorson, I suggest you turn your attentions to preparing yourself for work. No doubt it will take every single one of the now”—a quick check of her watch—“twenty-eight minutes you have left.”

  She left Meghan standing, hand outstretched, in the middle of the hallway. Meghan blew her bangs off her forehead and grimaced, letting her hand fall. So much for thawing out the old girl. She headed back to her room, scooping up her suitcase by the door.

  “You shouldn’t have twisted her tail like that.” Natalie opened the closet door, took out a black uniform, and held it up. “At least the laundry is right here in the building. It shouldn’t take much time to get uniforms back.”

  “I wonder where the laundry is here. In the basement? And can you imagine how hot it must be working there?” Meghan sat on the side of one of the beds, testing the springs. “I’m surprised they don’t have laundry facilities at every hotel. I meant to ask during that whirlwind orientation why they only had two laundry centers. Seems odd to ship everything to Needles or to Kansas then ship them all back again.”

  “They must find it easier to keep everything consolidated. At least we won’t have to worry about running out of clean dresses and having to wait for them to arrive on the next train.” Natalie removed a snowy apron from a hanger and laid it on the other bed.

  “This is a nice room. Look at all this space.” Meghan ran her hand along the curved white metal footboard of her bed and scuffed her feet on the colorful rug. “I wonder where the bathroom is on this floor.”

  “I think you’d best stop wondering and start getting ready.”

  “Before Mrs. Gregory comes back and breathes fire all over me.” Hauling herself up off the bed, she removed her hat pins and hat and shook out her curls. “Do you think she’s that starchy with everyone, or did she just take a dislike to me?”

  “You have to admit, the conditions in which she first found you were less than desirable, sprawled all over a strange man on the sidewalk out front. And you didn’t do yourself any favors out in the hall pointing out her lack of manners in not introducing herself.”

  “I couldn’t exactly help what happened outside. I’m only fortunate someone was there to help me, otherwise….” She shuddered. “I know I shouldn’t have been rude to her in the hall, but I couldn’t stand it anymore. She looked like she wouldn’t wipe her feet on me if I was a rug.” Meghan dug in her bag for her hairbrush. She’d show Mrs. Gregory she could be the perfect Harvey Girl. Not that she had any idea just what that entailed, but she was a bright girl and she could learn.

  “Look at this.” Meghan peered at a framed piece of paper by the mirror as she jerked her brush through her hair. “Take a gander at this list.”

  — EMPLOYEES ARE REQUESTED NOT TO SCRATCH MATCHES, DRIVE NAILS OR TACKS, OR IN ANY OTHER WAY MAR THE WALLS OF THEIR ROOMS.

  — NO RUBBISH OF ANY KIND MUST BE THROWN IN THE TOILETS.

  — BATHTUBS MUST BE THOROUGHLY CLEANED BY EMPLOYEES AFTER USING.

  — LOUD TALKING AND LAUGHING IN ROOMS AND HALLS SHOULD BE AVOIDED.

  — EMPLOYEES MUST BE IN THEIR ROOMS BY 11:00 O’CLOCK P.M. UNLESS GIVEN SPECIAL PERMISSION BY MANAGER TO REMAIN LONGER.

  — ROOMS MUST BE KEPT IN TIDY CONDITION AND WEARING APPAREL MUST BE KEPT IN ITS PROPER PLACE.

  — CLOTHING OF ALL EMPLOYEES MUST BE NEAT AND CLEAN AT ALL TIMES.

  — EXPECTORATING ON THE FLOORS IS POSITIVELY FORBIDDEN.

  — THE PURPOSE OF THE ABOVE RULES IS TO BRING ABOUT A TIDY AND HOMELIKE CONDITION IN YOUR ROOMS AND WE REQUEST YOUR COOPERATION SO THAT THE DESIRED RESULTS WILL BE BROUGHT ABOUT.

  FRED HARVEY

  “I feel like I just joined the army. Are we supposed to salute Mrs. Gregory or the hotel manager when they come by?” Meghan wrinkled her nose.

  “I doubt we have to salute, though a bit of deference and respect would surely be in order. We’ll get into the swing of things soon enough. The rules will become second nature and we won’t even have to think about them.” Natalie continued dressing. “Fred Harvey might have passed away, but his son, Ford, is following all the guidelines set down by his father.”

  “I’m not complaining. I know the company has to have rules. I just didn’t think they’d be posted in our bedroom.” Meghan finished tidying her hair, checking for stray curls. “At least we’ve got running water in the basin here.” She turned the tap and ran her hand under the cool water before dipping a pristine towel into the liquid. A sigh escaped her lips as she wiped her hot, soot-streaked face. A bath would be wonderful about now.

  “The clock’s ticking, Meghan.” Natalie took the cloth from her hand and gave Meghan a friendly nudge toward the closet. “You’ve made enough of a first impression on Mrs. Gregory for one day. Don’t add ‘late’ to the list.”

  Meghan heaved a playful sigh and quickly removed her travel-stained dress, took a sketchy basin-bath, and donned the black uniform. The snowy apron was so starched it almost crackled. She slipped her arms through the armholes and tied the bow in the small of her back. Twisting and turning before the mirror on the dresser, she checked to see that every button and fold was in its proper place.

  “Do you suppose the laundry here does the ironing and starching for us?” Ironing was the bane of Meghan’s existence, and she didn’t look forward to trying to keep half a dozen uniforms pressed and crisp.

  “We can only hope.” With one last check in the mirror, Natalie turned around. “How do I look?”

  Meghan studied her while hopping on one foot trying to get one of her new black shoes on. They were the latest style, with laces do
wn the front that were purely ornamental. A tight, elastic gusset on the inside of the top allowed just enough movement so they could be slipped on. The trouble was, the elastic did such a good job she could hardly get her foot into the shoe.

  “You look perfect. Like the quintessential Harvey Girl.” She finally managed to get the boot on and straightened. “How about me?”

  Natalie eyed her critically. “Neat and tidy. Let’s get downstairs. If I’m not at least five minutes early, I feel late.”

  They found their way to the first floor, through the lobby, and past the tinkling, floor-level fountain that sent diamonds of droplets into the air. Meghan wanted to linger and watch the cool water for a moment, but Mrs. Gregory’s clock ticked in the back of her mind. When they inquired as to where to find the head waitress, the man behind the front desk directed them toward the door marked LUNCHROOM.

  Three horseshoe-shaped counters, each with twenty-five stools, filled the room. Meghan stopped in the doorway to admire the glass-fronted refrigeration case full of the day’s menu items. “Can you believe they have a refrigerator right in the lunchroom?”

  “We’ll look at it later. Come on.” Natalie took her elbow and urged her toward the far end of the lunchroom where several Harvey Girls stood at one of the counters. As they arrived, Mrs. Gregory emerged through a set of batwing doors, holding some files. Meghan glanced at the clock. Five minutes to spare.

  The woman’s dark eyes raked over them from head to toe, her nostrils thinned and pinched, and she turned away. Meghan let out a sigh. They must look all right, or the head waitress surely would’ve said something, audience or not listening on.

  “Girls.” Mrs. Gregory clapped her hands to get their attention. “This is Miss Daviot and Miss Thorson.” She opened one of the file folders and consulted the pages inside. “Miss Daviot, you will be serving in the dining room, first as the drinks girl, and when I feel you’ve made satisfactory progress, you will be given charge of your own tables. Only the most well-mannered and accomplished waitresses are allowed to serve in my dining room. I have a feeling you will fit in well there.”

  The head waitress flipped open the other folder. “Miss Thorson.” Her voice was as dry as the desert outside the lunchroom windows. “You appear to be more suited for the lunchroom. I’ve already encountered your ready tongue. See that you hold to the standard and keep your conversation with customers to a minimum. We are to serve them with a smile, get them in and out as quickly as possible, and not bore them with mindless chatter, understood?”

  Heat charged into Meghan’s face, and she bit the inside of her cheek. Hard. In that instant, she vowed to prove to Mrs. Gregory that she was the best Harvey Girl ever to don the uniform. Her service would be above reproach, her appearance impeccable at all times, and her customers would rave about the way she took care of them. Mrs. Gregory would have no choice but to recant her initial assessment and beg Meghan to work in the formal dining room.

  “Yes, Mrs. Gregory. I understand perfectly.” Keeping her voice modulated cost her quite a bit of effort, but she even managed to put on a pleasant smile.

  “Good. Dining room girls, I want the linens changed and the tables set. Then there is the silver to polish and the stations to clean. Come, Miss Daviot. Miss Plunkett, you take charge of the lunchroom. You all know what to do. Miss Thorson, do as Miss Plunkett tells you until I can get back here to show you how to do things right.”

  More than half the girls, including Natalie, followed Mrs. Gregory through the double doors that led to the dining room, leaving a handful at the counter.

  “Whew, what’d you do to Gregsie?” An extremely short girl of about twenty-five stuck out her hand. “I’m Jennifer, by the way. Miss Plunkett when Gregsie’s around.” She had laughing pale blue eyes and straight, light brown hair pulled back from her round face.

  “Gregsie?”

  “Mrs. Gregory, but you’d best not let her hear you calling her that. Trust me, that’s one of the nicer nicknames she has around here.”

  Several of the waitresses giggled. One tall girl with a long, narrow nose and a dimple in her chin paused as she passed Meghan. She cast a look over her shoulder toward the dining room door and bent to whisper, “I heard one of the busboys call her ‘Iron Drawers’ the other day.”

  Jennifer snickered and then put on a stern expression. “She’d better never hear you repeating that one either or you’ll find yourself on report.”

  The tall girl shrugged. “I’m on report half the time the way it is. My employee record must be about the size of the dictionary by now.”

  “This is Barbara. Miss Charteris. She takes care of the soda fountain just through those doors.” Jennifer pointed to a pair of saloon-style half doors. “She started out in the dining room, got shifted to the lunchroom, and now she’s relegated to the soda fountain. Which she needs to get back to, since it’s always open.” Jennifer tilted her head toward the doors.

  Barbara snapped to attention, gave a smart salute, and disappeared, leaving the doors flopping in her wake.

  “She’s a good egg, but she doesn’t pay close enough attention sometimes. And Mrs. Gregory isn’t as bad as she seems at first. She runs a tight ship, she’s good at her job, and she’s got more prickles than a beaver-tail cactus, but she’s loyal to her girls. Just do as you’re told, follow the rules, and she’ll be your staunchest ally. Buck the rules, and you’ll be her favorite target.”

  Meghan renewed her vow to be the best Harvey Girl on the line. She’d have Mrs. Gregory eating out of her hand in no time.

  Caleb nudged his mount to go a bit faster, conscious of the growing heat and ready to be home. The barn and corrals shimmered ahead. The string of horses he led plodded along in the heat, tired from their long, hot journey and ready to stop. He checked over his shoulder to see that the men he’d hired to bring the rest of the horses were still keeping up.

  Buildings grew closer. He led the string of horses into the corral and dismounted. His left leg ached from his knee clear to the ends of his toes, but he refused to give in to the pain. He had no one to blame except for himself, running toward the train like he had. Still, if he hadn’t, that girl might’ve fallen under the wheels and been killed or at least badly injured. A little pain wasn’t too much to bear to save a life, right? Especially since he was used to the pain.

  The girl—Meghan—he let his mind try out her name for the hundredth time since he’d left town. Meghan what? It had been a long time since he’d held a pretty girl in his arms. More than three years now. Ever since Patricia threw him out like yesterday’s stall bedding.

  The familiar ache, as familiar as the one in his leg, squeezed his chest. He needed to get his mind off the girl at the hotel. He’d learned his lesson, had it burned into his memory. Only a fool repeated his mistakes expecting a different outcome.

  The hired men, Carlos and Diego, led their strings of horses into the corral. They swung out of the saddles, their boots making puffs of dust.

  “Just unsaddle your mounts and leave the saddles on the top rail.” He hooked a stirrup over the saddle horn and pulled on the latigo strap. Grasping the blanket and saddle together, he hoisted it onto the corral fence and looped the cinches up out of the dirt. He then turned to study the horses, untying the lead rope and feeding it through the halter rings to free each animal. “Turn ’em loose, but don’t take off the halters.”

  Fifteen new horses joined the twenty already in the big corral. All browns or bays, not a pinto, gray, or buckskin in the lot. Just as his supplier promised, just as his customer ordered.

  “Señor, what you going to do with so many horses out here?” One of the men shoved back his hat and scratched his head. “You don’t got no pasture. How you goin’ to feed them?”

  “Barn’s full of hay and grain. And there’s plenty of water.” Caleb jerked his thumb toward the muddy river a hundred yards past the corral fence. His first, backbreaking job when he took up residence on this hard-scrabble piece of roasted
earth was to install an irrigation pipe and pump from the river to the corrals. House water came from a well sunk deep and a cistern, though the cistern was almost always bone dry with less than six inches of rain falling in a whole year out here. Nothing like the Vermont woods of his boyhood, that was for sure, or even the Kentucky horse farm where he’d worked upon escaping Vermont. Still, he didn’t own this land, nor even rent it. His employer took care of all that, and Caleb had few complaints.

  If only the stark landscape didn’t look quite so much like the barren dryness he felt inside.

  Shrugging aside these notions, he reached into his pocket for his wallet and pulled out some money for each of the men. “Thanks for helping me get them here from town. If you’ll give me a minute, I’ll drive you back.”

  “Gracias.”

  Caleb made sure the water troughs were full and opened two bales of hay for the new arrivals. They would settle in with the herd that had been here for a fortnight already. Most of the horses stood dozing under the shade shelter he’d erected. Siesta time. Work was for morning and evening when the temperatures were more manageable. Funny how quickly he’d adapted to the rhythm of life here in the high desert.

  When these basic chores were done, he headed toward the dilapidated building he called a garage. Inside, he flipped the tarp off his brand-new truck. The pale blue paint gleamed, and the highly varnished wood shone. A 1918 Chevy, fresh from the dealership in Barstow. His chest swelled, and he admitted satisfaction when Carlos and Diego sucked in their breaths and made approving noises. The six hundred dollars the truck had cost him had been worth every penny. The larger of the two men, Diego, ran his hand along the door and with a guilty start jerked back.

  “She is beautiful, señor.”

  “Climb in.”

  Diego piled into the back while Carlos took the passenger seat.

  They headed back to town at a zippy twenty-five miles an hour, creating a dust plume that hung in the air behind them in a brown-yellow haze.