Golden State Brides

by Keli Gwyn

  “What’s this?” the head waitress demanded.

  “I am ready. You can put it right here by my table. And thank you.” Meghan put her hand on the laundress’s arm for a moment before turning to Mrs. Gregory. “I’ve arranged for a sewing machine to be brought in from the laundry area. Using a machine will speed up the piecing of the quilt.”

  Mrs. Gregory’s mouth puckered. “Do you know how to use a sewing machine? I can’t have someone inexperienced messing around with company property.”

  “I can use a sewing machine. My mother has had one for years, and she taught me to sew when I was a child. The machine will come to no harm.” Meghan did her best to sound appeasing and reasonable, but waves of disapproval flowed from her supervisor, and the woman’s lips pressed so hard together, they disappeared.

  Two of the bellboys carried in the treadle sewing machine, its tabletop scratched and the gilded scrollwork on the black machine almost worn off.

  Mrs. Gregory inspected the battered machine. “Oh, it’s the old treadle. You can’t do much harm there. I was afraid you wanted to use one of the new electric ones. Very well. Carry on.” She turned on her heel and marched away to check on one of the other stations.

  Meghan settled in to work, pinning, sewing, snipping threads. She’d have a mountain of ironing to do on all the seams, but that could be done later. For now, she wanted to finish the piecing she’d begun by hand so she could start the embroidering.

  All around her, Red Cross volunteers chatted and worked. Some cut bandage materials, others rolled them up. Some, like Natalie, knitted scarves and caps, others turned cranks on two of the knitting machines that created socks lightning fast. At another table, women sorted through the buckets of peach, cherry, and apricot pits saved over from the kitchen for the making of gas mask charcoal. One of the girls had brought in a phonograph. Songs like “Pack up Your Troubles in Your Old Kit Bag,” “It’s a Long Way to Tipperary,” “Keep the Home Fires Burning,” and “Just a Baby’s Prayer at Twilight (For Her Daddy Over There)” reminded them all of why they were working so hard and who they were working for.

  Several of the ladies stopped by to see what Meghan was up to, and though many offered to help, she refused. She couldn’t wait to hand the money over to the Red Cross, knowing she’d accomplished the entire task by herself.

  Natalie drifted over after a while. “How are you coming along?”

  “Fine. How’s the knitting going?” She barely looked up from her sewing.

  “The knitting’s fine, but I thought I might give you a little warning.”

  The treadle stilled. “What?”

  “I know how much this quilt project means to you, both the actual assembly of the quilt and the money you are hoping to raise before Mr. Gibson returns, but you’re not making any friends here. A lot of these women would like to help you, but you’ve rebuffed every offer. You’re coming across as selfish and standoffish.”

  “I’m not being selfish. There’s plenty for everyone to do. I don’t need any help. Anyone else would just be in the way.” Meghan snipped a thread and finger-pressed the seams of a completed block.

  “Maybe it’s not about you needing their help as much as it’s about them needing to help you.”

  “You’re not making sense.” Meghan laughed. “Anyway, after I finish this last block, I’ve gone as far as I can with the sewing. Now I just need to gather the names and collect the donations. I’ll embroider the squares before I put them together.” With a final snip, the square was done.

  Sighing, Natalie shook her head. “I’ve been talking to Mrs. Gregory.” She helped Meghan gather and stack the pieced quilt blocks and pick up stray threads.

  “What about?”

  “Since you’re moving to the dining room day after tomorrow, she needs to do some shuffling of positions. I volunteered to work at the soda fountain.”

  “You what?” Meghan dropped her scissors onto the table with a clatter that had conversations pausing and heads turning. She lowered her voice. “But I was so looking forward to finally working with you. Now you’re moving to the soda fountain? You won’t get nearly the tips there. That’s one thing that Barbara is always complaining about, the paltry tips people leave when they order a soda or an ice cream cone.”

  “I know, but I’ve been so tired lately, and the doctor said I should find a way to conserve my strength. Working the soda fountain will do just that, and Barbara can move to the lunchroom to take your vacant position. See? It all works out.”

  “Mrs. Gregory went along with that?”

  “She did. I mentioned that I wasn’t acclimating to the heat too well and that I’d been to see the doctor. She was actually very nice about it. I understand they had a girl pass away from heatstroke a couple of years ago, and she takes that kind of thing very seriously.” Natalie shrugged. “I think somewhere under all that starch and protocol lurks a lonely, hurt woman who just wants a friend.”

  “And I think you’re a very nice girl, Natalie Daviot. You see the good in everybody.”

  Jenny passed their table, her arms full of bandage rolls. “Hey, ladies, how’s it going? We’re just about done with bandages for the day.”

  Natalie took the rolls, one-by-one, out of Jenny’s arms and lined them up on the end of Meghan’s table. When she finished, she pressed her hands to her lower back. “I’m beat. I think I’ll go lie down before we have to go back on duty.”

  “I’m about done, too. I’ll be up to our room to drop off all this stuff before I head into town to go door-to-door for signatures.” She mounded fabric into her basket. “When I have a good list going, I can get started on the embroidery.”

  Natalie gave a small wave and left the sunroom. Hopefully, she’d get some good rest in spite of the heat.

  “Your quilt’s an awfully big project.” Jenny leaned against the table. “Are you sure you can get enough donations just from town?”

  “If I have to, I’ll drive around the county and up toward Bullhead City. I’m sure Mr. Stock would let me borrow the hotel’s automobile.”

  “You can drive?” Wonder and admiration colored Jenny’s tone, and her eyes widened. “You can drive an auto?”

  Meghan nodded. “My father has an Oldsmobile. He taught me to drive.”

  A mischievous glint came into Jenny’s eyes. “Then you’ll be able to drive out toward the river, right?”

  “I imagine so.”

  “Then you could take some of us girls swimming.” Jenny grinned. “We wouldn’t have to wait for one of the bellboys to drive us out to Mr. McBride’s place.”

  At the mention of Caleb’s name, Meghan’s heart bobbed. She was so conflicted about him. On the one hand, he was kind and interesting and intriguing. Something in him called out to her, as if he had some secret, hidden hurt that she could ease for him. And yet, from other sources she’d heard nothing good. He was a coward, a profiteer. How could she be drawn to him and repelled at the same time? Which was true, or was it all true? All she knew was that she couldn’t stop thinking about him. And yet, he’d made it clear they wouldn’t be seeing one another again.

  Jenny must’ve sensed something, because she pounced. “Speaking of Caleb, isn’t he handsome? All the girls think so. Don’t you? Mrs. Gregory has warned us all against him. To hear her talk, you’d think he was the Kaiser’s brother or had the typhoid or something. Though there wasn’t much danger of any of us girls coming under his influence, at least not until you came along. He never used to come in here, hardly even came to town, but he’s been in the hotel a bunch of times since you showed up. I heard Mrs. Gregory a couple of days ago telling the bellhops and maids to let her know if he came into the hotel again. She said he’d been ‘sniffing around’ one of her girls, and she wasn’t going to stand for it. I figured she must mean you, since you’re the one he heads for when he comes to town.” Jenny blinked innocent eyes that invited Meghan to share a confidence.

  Meghan’s cheeks betrayed her, growing hot. “Sniffing
around” had such bad connotations, she felt she had to put Jenny right.

  “He’s done nothing of the sort. I’ve served him a couple of times in the hotel, and I saw him at the dime-a-dance. That’s all.”

  Jenny raised one eyebrow and crossed her arms. “Uh-huh. Tell that to the horse marines. Caleb McBride has given the cold shoulder to this town ever since he arrived. I bet he wasn’t in Needles more than a handful of times ever, but in the last couple of months, he’s been hanging around town and coming to the hotel. He never came to any of the Harvey Girl Friday Night Socials, and he sure never ate in the lunchroom before your arrival. And not only did he come to the dance, but the minute he arrived, he snatched you away for a stroll under the stars. Folks are talking. Small town and all, everyone knows everyone else’s business.”

  Snatching up her basket, Meghan propped it on her hip. “Well, people should mind their own business instead of poking their noses in where they don’t belong.”

  Jenny blinked at her tone, but she persisted. “Then there is something going on with you two?”

  “Of course there isn’t. I barely know the man. Anyway, Harvey Girls aren’t supposed to court. I signed a contract.”

  “Fiddlesticks. What do contracts have to do with courting? Do you know how many Harvey Girls have gotten married the day after their contract expires? Half the girls working here are being courted by railroad men. The joke is that The Fred Harvey Company is actually a matchmaking service for the Atchison, Topeka & Santa Fe.” She linked arms with Meghan. “Anyway, enough about that. If you can get the hotel car, let’s get up another swimming party or two, okay?”

  Meghan let Jenny prattle on as they headed upstairs, but she gave no firm assurances. With Mrs. Gregory expanding her web of informants, she had a feeling that if she wanted to make a success of her move into the dining room, she’d best steer clear of Caleb McBride’s property.

  Chapter 10

  Meghan wove between the square tables for eight, raising her tray of desserts carefully over her head so as to clear the patrons but not hit the low-hanging chandeliers. Her first week as a dining room waitress had gone well. At least Mrs. Gregory hadn’t said anything to her about any mistakes. And the dining room supervisor seemed satisfied with her performance.

  She had fallen into the rhythm of the new work. One blessing of being a senior waitress meant she no longer had to polish coffee urns in between train departures. The dining room urns were kept in the kitchen, not out on the counter for all the diners to admire. Everything in the dining room lent a more sober atmosphere, from the rich paneling and coffered ceilings to the linen tablecloths and ornate chandeliers. Though speed was appreciated and necessary, one must never give the appearance of rushing.

  “Two queen’s puddings and two Muscatine ices.” She set the plates before each person, working counterclockwise around the table. “Will any of you be having coffee with your dessert?” Holding the now empty tray low before her, she gave her most encouraging smile.

  Heading back to the kitchen, she scanned the room. Close to capacity. Though she enjoyed the patrons in the dining room, she missed the camaraderie and informality of the lunch counter. Most of the soldiers passing through had vouchers for the lunchrooms, part of the deal worked out between the company and the military. The dining room was reserved for more well-to-do travelers and those looking for a little peace and quiet after the clattering bustle of the train.

  “Coffee to table six.”

  The drinks waitress, Sandra, nodded and lifted her tray where a silver coffee pot rested in solitary splendor. The maître d’ showed two gentlemen to one of her tables for two under a window, and Meghan’s breath caught. The first man was a stranger who walked with all the military precision she’d expect from an officer in uniform, but the man who took the chair opposite him was familiar from her thoughts and dreams.

  Sandra nudged her. “What are you waiting for? Go take their drinks order and give them their menus.”

  Meghan walked across the dining room as if in a trance. What was he doing here? He’d made it clear he wanted nothing to do with her. Yet, here he was again.

  She put on her best smile. “Good afternoon, gentlemen. Welcome to the Harvey restaurant. Today’s specials are Viennaise chicken with homemade noodles and beef tenderloin stroganoff. I can also recommend the fried chicken Castañeda. It’s excellent. While you’re considering the menu, may I take your drink order? We have coffee, hot tea, iced tea, water, freshly squeezed orange juice, tomato juice, and lemonade.”

  The man in uniform set his hat on the window ledge. He had pale blue eyes, sandy hair, and a sharply defined nose. “A hot day like today, lemonade sounds good. How about you, McBride? Something cool before we talk business?”

  “Make it two lemonades.” Caleb kept his attention on the printed menu.

  Meghan arranged the cups according to the code to let Sandra know what the gentlemen had ordered and stepped away.

  “Miss Thorson.” The dining room supervisor crossed the room and spoke softly into her ear. “Please inform Mrs. Gregory that Mr. McBride is in the hotel.”

  “What?”

  “We are under orders to inform the head waitress when Mr. McBride patronizes our establishment. Go and tell her, then return here to take their orders.”

  Dread coursed through her. “Why does she want to know? Surely she won’t throw him out? He’s done nothing wrong.”

  “Ours is not to question the demands of Mrs. Gregory. Go find her and get back here quickly.”

  “Please, send someone else.”

  “There is no one else. Go.” She made a shooing motion before stepping around a potted fern to man her station beside the kitchen door.

  Meghan blew out a breath, trying to tamp down the nasty feeling that she might be betraying Caleb somehow by telling Mrs. Gregory that he was dining in the restaurant. The clock was ticking. She had to find her and get back to the table to take their orders in a timely manner. Maybe that was her out. If she couldn’t find Mrs. Gregory quickly, she’d have to abandon the task to get back to work.

  Unfortunately, she spotted the head waitress across the lobby standing in the doorway of the lunchroom. “Mrs. Gregory.”

  “What do you want? Aren’t you supposed to be waiting tables? What are you doing traipsing around the hotel?”

  Meghan swallowed and grabbed hold of her temper. “I was sent to inform you that Mr. McBride is dining with us today.”

  Her eyebrows rose and her face hardened. “Really?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Meghan turned to go.

  “Wait.”

  “I must get back. I have customers.”

  “Is he alone?”

  “No, Mrs. Gregory. He’s with an army officer. A major, I believe.”

  “Fine. Return to your station. I’m sure your customers are wondering where you’ve gotten to.”

  Meghan gritted her teeth. Shooed away as if she were the one dawdling. Her footfalls sounded loudly on the tile floor.

  She returned to the busy hush of the dining room and approached Caleb’s table. “Have we decided?”

  The gentlemen placed their orders, and she went to the kitchen to report to the chef. On the far side of the blistering hot kitchen, Harvey Girls bustled through the flopping doors to the lunch counters. They chatted with the sous chefs and busboys, cheerful and busy. The dining room staff proceeded with pleasant but serious expressions. No jocularity, the ultimate in professional service behavior.

  She missed the lunchroom.

  Carrying the first course to Caleb’s table, she couldn’t help but overhear part of their conversation. Her curiosity surged, and she slowed her pace to linger without being too obvious.

  “I’m going to have to have at least one more carload of hay. What I can get around here is so thin and light, it hardly puts any meat on their bones. And half a carload of grain. When can I expect the next shipment of horses?” Caleb leaned back, staring somewhere over the major’s shoulder an
d giving no indication that he knew Meghan or even realized she was there.

  She set their salads before them, noted both needed refills on lemonade, and motioned to Sandra. Unable to think of a reason to hover, she moved away. Unbidden, she looked back over her shoulder and caught Caleb watching her leave. Their gazes meshed, and a stab of guilt pierced her. Why had Mrs. Gregory wanted to know he was in the hotel?

  When they’d finished their salads, Meghan cleared their plates and served the main courses. She couldn’t help but notice the strong backs of Caleb’s hands, the way his muscles played beneath his white shirt, and the crisp springiness of his sun-bleached hair. She had to force herself not to touch his shoulder to test the warmth of his skin.

  The major picked up his fork. “I’ve made the rounds of several ranches in central California and purchased fifty new mounts. They’ll be coming on the train in just over a week. I’ll send several handlers along with them. They’ll deliver them to your place so you don’t have to come into town.”

  Meghan bit her lip. If he didn’t have to come to town for horses, when would she see him again? She served her other customers, but Caleb’s table received more than its fair share of her attention, for she couldn’t stay away. With each course she caught snippets of their conversation, adding to what she knew about Caleb. The major’s commendation of Caleb’s training warmed her through with pride.

  “The last group you sent to Fort Riley, the commandant was especially pleased. They were certainly in tiptop shape, and very well trained, ready for learning battle maneuvers. He wanted me to pass along his thanks.”

  “Fifty head is the most I can handle out at the ranch. I wish I had a better place. It’s pretty stark out there. Without getting feed hauled in, I couldn’t even support fifty.”

  “We’ll drive out there after the meal and we can go over any equipment you might need.”

  “Gentlemen, your dessert.” She set the plates before them and opened her mouth to offer coffee, but she stopped as a large woman she recognized from their Red Cross meetings stormed into the dining room.