Chapter 30
CHAPTER 30
FRIDAY, DECEMBER 30, 1927
C lara
Louisa and I will finish our early shift by noon. With planning for the New Year’s Eve event in full swing, Ms. Thompson asked if we would be willing to hand over our maid duties and help with the set-up instead. This morning, we rose far earlier than usual, with the plan to arrive at the hotel by six o’clock.
Papa, concerned about the safety of us walking to the hotel in the dark morning hours, dressed and readied himself for the day in order to accompany us to work. He walks us right up the steps to the hotel’s back-of-house kitchen hall, waiting to ensure all is as it should be.
Hearing the door creak open, Cookie appears from inside her pastry kitchen, mixing bowl in hand. Papa inclines his head upon seeing our friend, taking off his hat to say good morning.
“Ah, you are just in time.” Without giving us any indication of what she is talking about, Cookie retreats into her kitchen as we exchange puzzled glances.
Papa bids us farewell, not wanting to cause us a delay. I ask when to expect him home this evening. “I shouldn’t be long past four thirty,” he says.
I stand on tiptoe and kiss his cold cheek. “Thank you for walking with us.”
He is ducking out the door when Cookie’s voice cuts through again. “Where do you think you’re going?”
Papa turns as she strides toward him, a box held tight between her arms. Handing the box to Papa, she beams. “I made an extra batch. Tell those fellas at the City Parks Board that The Hotel Hamilton thanks them for keeping our city streets free of snow and ice.”
Papa’s cheeks lift with a smile as he peers into the box. The scent of sugar and cinnamon wafts through the air.
“Aren’t you the lucky one?” Louisa teases.
I see his face flush with colour, making me pause to watch him. “Thank you, ma’am.” He lifts the box slightly in Cookie’s direction.
“What’s this ‘ma’am’ business? Call me Cookie for goodness’ sake.” Cookie’s cajoling laugh stops short as her eyes drop to the spotless white floor. “Or, if you prefer, you can call me by my given name. It’s Ruby.”
“Thank you, Ruby.” He looks at Cookie and his eyes seem to dance in the bright light of the kitchen hall.
Louisa and I exchange a look, both unsure of what is happening before us. I shuffle in place, which spurs Papa back into action.
“Thank you again. The boys are sure to devour these.” He looks back at us one last time before saying goodbye and heading out the door.
Despite not being on maid duty today, Louisa and I pick up our uniforms from the laundry and head to the locker room to change.
The conversation quickly turns from the peculiar encounter in the kitchen hall to our afternoon plans for the day. I am tasked with finding a deep-blue stole for Louisa and an evening dress for the ball I am attending with William tomorrow night.
Louisa apologizes for the third time for not being able to accompany me as I shop for a dress. This is clearly troubling her, and she has made me promise to buy something less practical and more glamourous, touting my one opportunity to welcome in 1928. Her final warning hit a little too close to home for me. If I didn’t heed her advice, she promised to return to the shops on Saturday morning and spend even more money to ensure I have a dress suitable for the evening.
My sister has a list of errands all her own, dividing and conquering being the only way we will have time to get what we need to set our plan in motion. After fully understanding the predicament Gwen has found herself in, we discussed the idea of confiding in Ms. Thompson and Mr. Olson in order to protect the girl. In the end, we were at a loss as to how to make Mr. Barnes accountable for his actions without proof of wrongdoing.
Fearing his word might have more sway than ours, we decided our plan was the best hope of getting Gwen out of her precarious situation as quickly as possible. Our first goal is to protect Gwen, and the decision to not intervene ahead of time weighs heavy on our hearts. Having both been on the receiving end of Mr. Barnes’ attentions recently, we are more than aware of how things might go. But Gwen is still fooled by his act and would not be convinced to extract herself from the situation.
We meet Ms. Thompson in the upper floors of the banquet rooms. Tables line every wall, and Louisa and I cover them all with crisp white linens before adding a crimson, gold-trimmed table runner to each. The silver, freshly polished by Lou and Gwen, arrives on trays carried by bellboys wearing white gloves to protect the gleaming surfaces from fingerprints.
Ms. Thompson calls me to the kitchen when the flower delivery arrives, and I spend the remainder of my morning arranging flowers for varying sizes of vases. Before leaving for the day, we all gather in the readied banquet room, with candles lit and Ms. Thompson’s hand on the light switch. It is a trial run for the sake of efficiency, but as the room descends into candlelight, everyone goes silent as we appreciate the beauty we have created for The Hamilton’s first New Year’s Eve celebration.
By ten past twelve, Louisa and I are waving goodbye to one another at the corner of Georgia and Howe. I head to Spencer’s department store while Louisa takes the streetcar to our old neighbourhood near the Murray estate to meet a friend from her theatre club. Louisa knew exactly what she was looking for and whom to call when plan B became necessary.
Spencer’s window display draws me close, with brilliant red and gold accents highlighting holiday outfits for the whole family. I notice a mannequin with something fluffy slung over one shoulder, so I push through the door in search of something I never dreamed I’d have a use for. A kind woman behind the candy counter offers me directions to the women’s section.
My mouth hangs open unceremoniously. I am in the far corner of the women’s section, surrounded by furs of all kinds. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but heads and feet were not on my list of things to watch for. I back away from the foxes and skirt a display of mink. I am about to turn tail and run when I spot a table with rectangular, coloured furs on display. Breathing a sigh of relief, I stand at the table for several minutes, deciding between two blue options.
With the stole in hand, I wander through the dresses. The racks are lined with everything from long, beaded gowns to short flapper-style dresses. A full petal skirt catches my attention, but the dress’s hefty price tag makes me turn away. A gold scoop-neck with a bow is nice but a tad flamboyant for me.
An hour and a half and several trips to the dressing room later, I’ve settled on a peach, beaded chiffon gown in the standard flapper sleeveless style, with a V-neck suitable for showing off a long necklace. I was delighted to find it on the sale rack, leaving me enough of my budget to find a suitable necklace to accentuate my neckline.
I don’t even have to leave Spencer’s to find the accessory. A few paces away, I secure a simple pendant necklace that, when resting against my collarbone, dazzles in contrast to my cream-white skin. With my tissue-wrapped packages stowed in my shoulder bag, I step out into the crisp mid-afternoon air.
Feeling particularly pleased with myself, I stroll toward home, stopping at the butcher shop to purchase a small roast, Papa’s favourite. Given the hour, I’ll have plenty of time to make the roast for dinner. After several days of turkey leftovers, I’m certain tonight’s dinner will be a welcomed treat.
I push tomorrow’s activities from my mind as I load my grocery basket with potatoes, cream, and a pound of butter. Roast beef, Yorkshire pudding, and mashed potatoes are sure to put a smile on all three Wilson faces. Tonight we will feast, and tomorrow Louisa and I will do what we must in order to ensure Gwen is safe. I only wish we could be certain of the outcome when it comes to Mr. Barnes.