Chapter 12
CHAPTER 12
WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 14, 1927
C lara
I’ve been ruminating over the situation with Mr. Barnes all afternoon, but those thoughts all vanish the moment the swinging door of the kitchen flies open. “Miss Wilson, can you lend a hand, please?”
I drop the pine-scented greenery I was cutting for the holiday vases and hurriedly retrieve a chair as Lou and Ms. Thompson shuffle into the kitchen. “What happened? Louisa, are you all right?”
“I’m fine, but ow.” My sister’s face contorts in pain. “I’ve twisted my ankle.”
“Miss Wilson, fetch that crate.” Ms. Thompson points a bony finger toward the corner, where an empty crate is waiting to be swapped out with the next produce delivery. Hu and Chef watch from the other side of the kitchen, their faces twisted with unease as Ms. Thompson guides Louisa into the chair. “Easy does it. That’s right, settle yourself here, dear.” The matron’s voice is calm and soothing, but as I return to her side, with the crate in hand, I notice her forehead is riddled with deep lines of concern.
Ms. Thompson gestures to the floor in front of where Louisa is sitting. “Set it down there, upside down, please.” She turns to my sister while softening her voice a touch more. “Now Louisa, I’m going to ask you to lift your leg and rest your heel in the middle of the crate. This may hurt, but you can squeeze my hand.” Louisa takes Ms. Thompson’s hand and nods once, stoically.
I’ve always known our matron to be a kind woman. Stern, rule-abiding, and perfectionistic, but kind as well. This level of care, though, I’ve never witnessed from her. The fact that she uses Louisa’s first name likely has more to do with simplicity than intimacy, given both Wilson sisters are present, but I am grateful all the same for her ability to add a much-needed mothering tone to the tense situation.
Lifting her leg, Louisa winces, her eyes clamping shut. I let out a sigh of relief, thinking it must not be too bad, since I am familiar with the words Louisa can spew when distraught.
When her heel touches the wooden crate, I become instantly aware of how wrong that assessment was.
“Bloody hell.” Louisa’s voice is strained and loud.
“Louisa,” I admonish. I feel my cheeks warm at my sister’s outburst.
Ms. Thompson glances up at me from her bent-over position. “It’s quite all right, Miss Wilson. Your sister is in a significant amount of pain.” A small smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. “The occasional curse word won’t improve the situation, but it surely can’t hurt.”
“Apologies, ma’am.” Louisa sucks in a breath of air as her calf relaxes against the edge of the crate. Louisa’s stocking does little to hide the swelling beneath its dark wool.
Cookie appears through the swinging door. “What have we here?” One glance over Ms. Thompson’s shoulder at Louisa’s propped-up foot and Cookie bustles into motion. “That’s going to need some ice.” Looking up at the two other people in the kitchen, my friend doesn’t hesitate to take charge. “Well don’t just stand there. Chef, boil water for tea. We are going to need a few stiff cups, it seems. And Hu, use that towel there and collect a handful of snow from outside.”
Hu and Chef do as they are told, scattering to accomplish the tasks. I marvel at Cookie’s ability to direct the men into action. She leans over Louisa’s rapidly expanding ankle. “Let’s get some ice on it, and then we can assess the damage. Nothing to do but give it some time.”
Cookie places a comforting hand on Louisa’s shoulder as she rises. She exchanges a knowing look with Ms. Thompson before murmuring, “We might need to add a nip of something to that tea.”
With a subtle nod from Ms. Thompson, Cookie moves toward the kitchen door. “I’ll find something suitable. Back in a jiffy.”
Hu returns with a dishtowel filled with a packed ball of snow. “For you, Miss Louisa. I hope it makes you better.”
I smile at the man’s kind gesture. Cookie told me about his family’s Chinese restaurant, where he works double time to feed his friends and neighbours. I wonder if his famous dim sum will be featured at the New Year’s Eve celebration, like Cookie mentioned it might be. I’ve only heard murmurings about the event, scheduled to take place in the hotel’s lobby and banquet rooms.
“So you do know my name, Hu.” Louisa flashes a mischievous smile in the shy man’s direction. “Thank you.”
Ms. Thompson helps Louisa position the snow on her ankle while Hu backs away, bowing slightly.
Cookie returns, pausing in the doorway with a glass bottle of dark liquid. “Nicked this from the bar trolly. Should do the trick.” A quick wink in my direction tells me she’s pleased with her mock thievery.
The back door opens and closes with a thud, thrusting cool air into the kitchen. Cookie leans back into the hall, and a delighted expression lights up her features.
“I dare say, I’ve always thought you to be the respectable sort,” a male voice teases, making Cookie grin even more. “Drinking already. It can hardly be past four.”
“Well, look what the cat dragged in.” Cookie’s retort is in jest, the smile never leaving her face as the man steps forward and places a kiss on her cheek.
“It’s good to see you, Cookie.”
My heart thumps wildly in my chest as the man’s voice and profile elicit an unfamiliar, humming response within me. Feeling a touch guilty at such thoughts, given my sister’s current state, I drop my gaze to Louisa and crouch beside her, whispering that all will be well.
“William.” Recognizing her brother’s voice, Ms. Thompson stands and rushes toward the door. “Is that you?”
Cookie steps back to allow the siblings to greet one another with an embrace.
“Eliza.” William steps back to take in his sister. “You look well.”
“I thought you were going to telephone.” Ms. Thompson swats William’s arm lightheartedly. “I’ve got nothing prepared for dinner.” Concern draws creases on her forehead. “Where are your bags? Have you checked in yet? I am not certain the room is ready.”
“I caught an earlier train than expected. Keeping you on your toes is a younger brother’s job. Don’t worry about the room. I know what a tight ship you run, and I am quite certain my room will be ready in good time. I can stow my bags in your office until later.” William’s chuckle feels as though it has warmed the chill from the room. “As for dinner, I thought I could take you and Cookie out for a meal. It is the least I can do, since you’ll be putting up with me right through the holidays.”
“Listen to him,” Cookie chimes in. “He’s only buttering us up for the holiday treats that are about to come.”
“You know me too well.” He tilts his head back to examine the bottle in Cookie’s hand. “What’s with the whisky?”
Cookie gestures past the open kitchen door. “We’ve had a bit of an accident.”
William’s joy turns to concern as he takes in Louisa with her elevated foot. When his eyes land on me, a slow smile emerges on his face, sending a jolt of electricity through me.
“Miss Wilson.” William’s eyes never leave mine as he steps forward into the kitchen.
His gaze lingers, making me feel as though we are alone. He tears his eyes away only when he kneels in front of Louisa’s injured ankle. “May I?” William points to the snow-dampened towel covering her foot. “I’ve experienced my fair share of sprained ankles playing hockey on the frozen lakes back home.”
I sense Lou bracing herself in anticipation of more pain, but she assents with a silent nod.
Lifting the towel allows the remnants of snow to escape, landing with a plop on the hard floor. William puts the towel aside and gently prods my sister’s foot. “I don’t think anything is broken.” He looks to Ms. Thompson, who has moved to Louisa’s other side. “But she shouldn’t put any weight on it for a few days, or at least until that swelling comes down.”
As she smooths the front of her skirt with both hands, Ms. Thompson’s matronly manner reappears. “Well, Miss Wilson, it seems you will be at home resting for the next few days. I will make arrangements to cover your shifts and will speak with Miss Greenwood about continuing Miss Russell’s training.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Louisa’s downcast eyes tell me she is more than a little disappointed to be in this predicament. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I didn’t mean to cause all this trouble.”
“You’ve caused nothing of the sort, dear. The snow should not have been left to gather on the tile. I’ll see to it that it does not happen again,” Ms. Thompson asserts with conviction.
“How about that tea?” Cookie, having busied herself with filling a cup halfway with boiling water and tea leaves before filling the other half with whisky, offers Louisa a sip.
Louisa’s face pinches at the taste of the brew. “This is awful.”
“The first sip is the hardest.” Cookie pats Louisa’s shoulder, sharing an amused glance with Ms. Thompson. “By the third, you’ll be feeling less pain.”
I want to speak up, to tell them Louisa shouldn’t have whisky, given our father’s past trouble with the drink, but shame at our family’s darkness keeps the words locked tight within my head. I am trying to weigh the potential harm to my sister against the chance at reducing her pain when Cookie’s intentions are accomplished.
Three sips into her tea, Louisa smiles, and Cookie, without hesitation, takes the teacup from her hands.
Relief washes over me. I should have known that my friend would always have my sister’s best interest at heart. I feel William’s eyes on me, full of concern, and I realize he’s been watching me watch Louisa. The worry etched into his expression warms me through.
Louisa’s words, though soft and slightly slurred, hit me like a freight train, pulling me from the contentment I feel under William’s gaze. “If it weren’t for that kind Mr. Barnes, I fear things could have been far worse.”
“Wh—what did you say?”
Louisa meets my eyes. “Mr. Barnes caught me when I fell. He was quite sweet, given the fact that I tumbled into him like a bowling ball.” Louisa giggles. “A very tall bowling ball.”
I feel the floor shift beneath my feet and a cloud of unsteadiness overcomes me. How is it that this man is everywhere? Did Louisa really slip, or did this man somehow orchestrate the whole thing? Something inside me whispers not to put it past him. I bite my lip to stop myself from saying more. All I want is for him to stay away from me, and now my sister.
Louisa’s question tugs me back to the present situation. “How will I get home?”
I swallow hard, doing my best to shrug off Louisa’s mention of Mr. Barnes. “If I can borrow the telephone, ma’am, I can call home and have our father come to assist. Between the two of us, I am sure we can help Louisa manage the streetcar.”
“Yes, you can use the phone in my office." Ms. Thompson taps a finger to her lips. “Though I do suspect the streetcar may be a challenge in her current state. Either way, we should inform your father.”
William speaks up. “Has Robert, I mean, Mr. Olson brought his motorcar with him today?”
“I imagine so, though I’m not certain.” Ms. Thompson hesitates, then glances once more at Louisa’s swollen ankle with a frown.
“If he is in his office, I’d be happy to speak with him. He may very well suggest the same thing, given the situation.” William lifts his eyebrows, and I find myself touched by his thoughtfulness.
“Yes, that is a sensible idea.” Ms. Thompson gathers herself up once more. “Miss Wilson, telephone home and then gather your and your sister’s belongings from the locker room while we sort out the best way to get you two home.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I squeeze Louisa’s shoulder in solidarity as I pass her on my way out of the kitchen. Before ducking out the kitchen door, I sneak a sideways glance in William’s direction and catch him with his eyes on me again.