A Shelter of Hope

by Tracie Peterson

  “How interesting,” Simone murmured, allowing him to continue pointing out the oddities and interests of the town.

  “And you will positively adore Miss Taylor. She is a saint and a woman of such kindness and generosity that she shames everyone else around her,” Jeffery said lightly.

  Simone could hardly imagine what it would be like to meet the woman in person. Her mother had praised her, and now Mr. O’Donnell spoke of her as though she held a special place in his heart. The woman must truly be wondrous.

  They took a short walk along the platform and paused in front of an unassuming entryway. “Well, here we are,” O’Donnell announced. “The Santa Fe has corporate offices across town, but this is where the real heart of the action is. The Harvey Eating House and Depot.”

  Simone nodded but found that fear bound the words in her throat. They’ll know I’m a fraud, she thought. They’ll know I’m not good enough to be here with them. To be one of Fred Harvey’s “Girls.” Still, she had to try. She had nothing left to lose.

  Jeffery opened the door and ushered her inside. Simone stood in amazement at the bustling activity and sea of churning people. Within seconds, however, she was equally impressed by the way the crowds were seated in the dining room.

  “Remember the breakfast order we put in this morning?”

  Simone’s stomach rumbled as if to answer Jeffery’s question. “I remember it well.”

  Jeffery led her to their assigned table and helped to seat her. “The order was wired ahead. The cook has everything already prepared, and the girls have just under thirty minutes to see to everyone’s comfort and happiness. Watch carefully, and you’ll get a feel for what you have to look forward to.” The corners of his lips turned up ever so slightly and his brown eyes twinkled mischievously as he added, “Of course, you can’t change your mind and desert me if you decide it looks too challenging.”

  She quickly looked away, too nervous at the thought of having her past discovered to concern herself with how hard the work might be under Mr. Harvey’s employment. The ever-efficient Harvey Girls moved swiftly and smoothly through the room. The tables were immaculately set with fine tablecloths, beautiful dishes, and gleaming silver that had been shined to perfection. Simone reached out to gently touch the cup and saucer. “It’s all so lovely.”

  “What would you like to drink?” a young woman suddenly asked Simone. “We have coffee, hot tea, iced tea, and milk.”

  “Coffee, please,” Simone replied. She turned to watch the woman. Dressed in a black shirtwaist gown and white bibbed apron, the Harvey Girl nodded and left Simone’s empty cup upright in the saucer. “And for you, sir?”

  Jeffery smiled. “I’d like hot tea.”

  At this, the girl positioned his cup upside down in the saucer and moved rapidly on to the next person seated at their table. Simone watched in fascination as the young woman continued questioning what the people desired for their beverage, all the while smiling and repositioning the cup or leaving it upright in the saucer. It was only moments before two other young women, dressed and groomed almost identically to the first, appeared with pitchers in hand. They smiled and chatted and proceeded to fill the cups without ever asking the customers at the table what it was they had ordered.

  Simone quickly realized the code left to these women by the earlier Harvey Girl. Upright cups meant coffee. Upside down in the saucer, hot tea. There happened to be one child at their table, and for this the Harvey Girl had positioned the cup upside down on the table, away from the saucer. Simone watched as a small glass of milk was placed within the child’s reach.

  “Have they completely amazed you?” Jeffery asked, appearing to be amused with her study of the place.

  Simone opened her mouth to speak, but just then the food began to arrive at their table. The aroma of eggs, thick beefsteaks, and biscuits filled the air, causing Simone to feel even more hungry. Seeing the others begin to dig into their food, Simone did likewise, taking a forkful of scrambled eggs. She sighed as the buttery flavor filled her mouth. The taste made a delightful contrast to the food she’d endured during her journey from Wyoming to Chicago. The feast even topped the meals she’d shared with Mr. O’Donnell on their way down to Topeka. She tried the steak next, pleased to find it fresh and cooked to perfection.

  Simone continued to eat with relish until the delicately beautiful plate sat empty and a Harvey girl appeared to ask them if they would like apple pie to top off their breakfast.

  “Oh no, thank you,” Simone replied. She found it hard to imagine that anyone could put another morsel of food into their mouths after experiencing the Harvey House breakfast, but several of the men at her table did just that.

  In another five minutes a gonging sound echoed through the dining room. A black man clad in a white coat appeared. “No need to rush, folks. You have fifteen minutes before the train is scheduled to leave.”

  Jeffery leaned over. “They do that again in ten minutes and then in five. Mr. Harvey doesn’t want people to feel they have to hurry through their meal, but neither does he want time to get away from them.”

  “I see.”

  Simone watched as some people began gathering up their things. Others lingered at the table, finishing their meals and sharing conversation about the trip to come.

  “We’ll wait until the dining room empties of passengers, then I’ll call Miss Taylor to speak with us.”

  “Do the townsfolk eat here, too?” Simone questioned.

  “Sure, but train passengers have first priority and since the schedule is fairly fixed, folks know to stay clear until the rush is fed.” He paused, glancing around, and added, “Rush usually lasts about an hour with the northbound train coming in earlier and now the southbound. The northbound passengers left Topeka about seven this morning and townsfolk either ate before then or they’ll straggle in here now. In another half hour or so, they’ll shut down breakfast and start preparing for lunch.”

  True to what Mr. O’Donnell had told her, the gong rang five minutes later and again five minutes after that. In a matter of minutes the dining room emptied, leaving Jeffery, Simone, and a bevy of black-and-white-clad Harvey Girls to an awkward silence.

  “And that, Miss Irving, is Fred Harvey’s system at its best.”

  Simone startled at the unfamiliar name but remained calmly under control. For a moment she’d very nearly forgotten who she was and why she’d come to Topeka in the first place. The name Irving was a painful reminder, and the memory of her deception caused Simone to feel a great deal of sadness.

  “Ah, there’s Miss Taylor,” Jeffery said, getting to his feet.

  Simone looked up to find a buxom redhead in deep discussion with several of the Harvey Girls. So this is Elvira Taylor’s daughter, Simone deduced. She appeared as a simple motherly figure with her surrogate daughters all clamoring for attention. She pointed first in one direction and then another, continuing her discussion amidst the girls’ nods and questions. She didn’t, in Simone’s opinion, appear superhuman by any means.

  “Miss Taylor?” Jeffery called.

  She looked up, as if concerned that anyone should address her besides her beloved girls. “Mr. O’Donnell.” She whispered something to the girl at her right, then left the circle of young women and came to Jeffery’s table. “I heard you were here. I had a bit of trouble this morning with a couple of my newer staff members. The men were not being very cordial in their behavior. I’m afraid one poor girl was frightened to tears.”

  Jeffery’s eyes narrowed. “You did see to the problem, did you not?”

  Miss Taylor laughed. “Do you doubt it? No one speaks disrepectfully to my girls, much less handles them. I threw them out on their ears.”

  Simone stared in amazement at the woman. Her protective nature toward the Harvey Girls made an instant impression on Simone. The words that followed struck Simone with their simple sincerity.

  “The safety and happiness of my girls will always come first.”

  “Th
at’s quite understandable,” Jeffery replied. “I called you over to introduce you to Miss Simone Irving. Miss Irving is here to sign the contract and begin working for Mr. Harvey.”

  Miss Taylor’s face lit up. “How wonderful! We can certainly use the help. I’ve had to fill another three positions from girls here on my staff. The minute they finish training, I have no other choice but to put them out there on the line. I do realize we’re a training house, Mr. O’Donnell, but often I find us short-staffed. I’ve spoken with the house manager about it, but his hands are tied, as you well know.”

  “I have some other new recruits en route from back East, but it will be several days before they get here,” Jeffery announced. “But Miss Irving came into my office just as I was preparing to make my way here to Topeka. I figured with the desperation of our need, I should bring her on board immediately.”

  “I do appreciate that, Mr. O’Donnell. Miss Irving, it is a pleasure to meet you. I’m Rachel Taylor, the housemother here. I’m in charge of all Harvey Girl training and for seeing that nothing goes amiss at mealtime.”

  An inner sense told Simone she’d find shelter and tender care with this woman. It was easy to see why she was so highly spoken of—her entire demeanor seemed nothing but sincere and honest. She spoke with a gentle tone, and her ruddy complexion and red hair made her green eyes appear bright and cheery. Fred Harvey might dress his girls in black-and-white monotones, but Rachel Taylor brought her own color to the uniform.

  “I’m glad to meet you. I met your mother in Chicago,” Simone offered.

  “You did?” Rachel’s voice revealed her pure delight. “We will have to find a quiet moment later when you can tell me all about her.”

  Simone had nearly forgotten the hastily written letter that Elvira Taylor had tucked in her hand along with a refund for part of her rent. “I have a letter for you,” Simone replied and looked around for her carpetbag.

  “I had our bags moved to your office, Miss Taylor,” Jeffery said, seeming to understand Simone’s concern.

  “Well, this is a particular pleasure.” Miss Taylor gave a quick glance to the watch she’d just taken out of her pocket. “Why don’t we move to my office and discuss the matter in detail.”

  Simone followed them from the dining room and down a narrow corridor. She could still hear the clamor of the staff clearing away the tables but forced herself to concentrate on the conversation taking place in her company. It was difficult to understand, but almost against her will she was relaxing and realizing that there was something good in this place. Something of healing and hope.

  Miss Taylor opened a glass-windowed door and ushered them inside. “We can conduct business in here without interruption.”

  “I’ve been explaining some of the details surrounding the job,” Jeffery offered. “Miss Irving—” “

  Please call me Simone,” she told them with a pleading in her voice. Every time she heard that name, Simone couldn’t help but feel guilty.

  Jeffery smiled warmly at her. “I would be delighted.”

  “We do address each other rather informally,” Miss Taylor replied in a serious tone. “But never around customers. Just keep that in mind.”

  “I will. I promise,” Simone answered. Jeffery offered her a chair, then brought the worn carpetbag to Simone. She instantly procured the letter and handed it across to Rachel. “Miss Taylor, this is from your mother.”

  The woman reached out to take the small envelope. “Thank you so much, and please call me Rachel. All the girls do.” She set the letter aside, then opened the drawer of her small desk and pulled out a piece of paper. “This is our standard contract. If you’ll read it over …” She paused and looked once again at Simone. “You do read, don’t you?”

  “Yes. I read quite well,” Simone assured her.

  Rachel appeared relieved. “Good. Then read this over.” She handed the paper to Simone. “You’ll note that there is no pay for the first month and that you have to sign for either six or nine months of service.”

  “Six or nine months?” Simone questioned, scanning the paper.

  “And you also agree not to marry during that time,” Rachel explained. “Most girls sign for the shorter amount of time because, frankly, it’s one of the hardest parts of the contract to adhere to. After all, most of the Harvey Houses are in remote areas of the country where women of quality are hard to come by. There used to be a saying that’s held pretty true. ‘There are no ladies west of Dodge City and no women west of Albuquerque.’ Fred Harvey has changed all of that, and men out that way seem to consider Mr. Harvey their own private source for spouses. But if you break your contract to marry, you must forfeit half your wages and be expected to pay them back to the Harvey Company.”

  “That isn’t a problem, I assure you,” Simone said quietly.

  “I disagree,” Jeffery commented under his breath.

  Simone met his expression of amusement with knitted brows. “What do you mean?”

  “Given the fact that you are a beautiful young woman, Simone, there will be more than the average number of men lining up to play suitor to you.”

  A knock sounded at the door before Simone could reply. Rachel excused herself and went to take care of the problem while Jeffery remained seated, a look of challenge on his face.

  “I’ll sign for nine months,” Simone finally answered.

  “I don’t think that’s wise,” Jeffery teased.

  Simone chose to ignore him. “If I don’t get paid for a month, what do I do about uniforms and such?”

  “Everything is furnished,” Jeffery replied. “When Rachel takes you upstairs, you’ll be assigned a room and given uniforms and anything else you need. Even the laundry is taken care of for you. The uniforms are sent down to Newton, Kansas.”

  Simone, who had been responsible for her own laundry ever since her mother’s desertion, stared at him in open surprise.

  “Ah, I see I have managed to impress you at last.”

  “Do I understand correctly that I am to be given room, board, and uniforms, and I will be paid seventeen dollars and fifty cents a month?” Simone questioned in disbelief.

  Jeffery laughed and leaned toward her. “Yes, but you cannot get married during those long nine months. Are you certain you wouldn’t rather just sign for six?”

  Simone shook her head and reached for the pen.

  “Besides,” Jeffery replied, sobering a bit, “the work is hard. You aren’t just handed that money without a great deal expected in return. You’ll work six- and seven-day weeks, ten to twelve hours a day.”

  “Hard work doesn’t frighten me, Mr. O’Donnell. I’ve worked hard all my life and received little or nothing in return.”

  Just then a commotion sounded outside the office door, and Jeffery rose to see what the problem might be. Simone instantly came to attention when the door burst open and Rachel came in with a short man clad all in white. The man complained that his room was too small and that he had no place in the kitchen for all of his equipment.

  Simone found his animated expressions and hand gestures completely captivating. She watched for a moment, amused by the man’s grandiose display.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Flaubert,” Rachel replied. “I don’t understand a word you’re saying.” She turned to Jeffery. “I brought him here hoping that perhaps you speak his language.”

  Jeffery shook his head. “No, I don’t speak French.”

  Simone suddenly realized that the man was indeed speaking her mother’s native tongue. When the other three fell silent to stare in confusion at each other, Simone questioned the man as to his problem and rather enjoyed the surprised expressions on everyone’s faces.

  “Simone! You speak French?” Jeffery questioned.

  An expression of utter delight came over the old man’s face, while one of relief washed over Rachel’s countenance.

  “My mother was French,” Simone answered simply. Then turning to the old man, she repeated her question. “What is it
that you wish them to know?”

  “Ah, you are an answer to prayer,” the man told her. “There is no way I can stay in that tiny room. I must have space. And the kitchen is a disgrace. There is no room to work. I must have more room.”

  Simone turned to Rachel. “He’s unhappy with his living arrangements. He says there isn’t enough space in his room or in the kitchen.”

  “Is that all?” Rachel declared more than questioned.

  Simone took it as a serious question, however, and asked the man, “Is there anything else?”

  “Non,” the man replied. “It is enough.”

  Simone smiled and turned back to Rachel. “He said that’s enough.”

  “Tell him we’ll do whatever we can to make the accommodations acceptable.”

  Simone translated the information and felt a certain amount of gratification to see the man grow calmer.

  “I am blessed,” he told her, reaching out to shake her hand, “to know you. This woman is quite good to me, but she knows nothing of my native tongue.”

  Simone nodded, nervous at the touch of a stranger. “I know how it feels—being so new to something and no one seeming to understand you.”

  The man still grasped her hand and patted it gently. “From what little I have observed, I have found it a good house to work for and live in. Except that the rooms are too small,” he said with a laugh. Then realizing the time, he dropped his hold and hurried for the door. “My soup will boil over!” he declared and rushed from the room.

  “He has soup boiling,” Simone related to her stunned companions.

  “Simone, I had no idea you could speak French,” Jeffery said in complete amazement.

  “You didn’t ask.”

  “Simone, I would like for you to be Mr. Flaubert’s translator. There’s supposed to be an interpreter coming to help, but until then I’d appreciate it if you would act in this capacity for us. Of course, you’ll continue to be trained as a Harvey Girl,” Rachel said and added, “I’m so glad you’ve come to us. Why, without you we might never have known what the problem was, and we would have risked losing a wonderful chef for our restaurant. What a brilliant young woman you are.”