Chapter 21 Cynthia
Cynthia
Cynthia stepped out into the sunlit street.
Despite Pauline’s insistence that there must be jobs to be had in Mount Vernon, she had not been able to find one.
Every restaurant, boardinghouse, cottage rental, and storefront where she had made inquiries politely but firmly assured her that they had filled all openings weeks ago.
As she moved to a shady patch beneath a towering maple, she admitted to herself that she might have to head home in defeat.
She couldn’t very well impose on the Mayhews’ hospitality for much longer, no matter how vigorously Pauline waved away her concerns.
Mrs. Mayhew had asked at the breakfast table that very morning if Cynthia’s mother wasn’t eager for her return.
Pauline might not believe there were limits to her parents’ generosity, but Cynthia was certain she was mistaken.
It had occurred to her that even if by some miracle she managed to get a job, she would likely need to spend some of her hard-earned wages on room and board.
The Mayhews could not be expected to offer free housing for the entire season.
With each passing day, it seemed the likelihood of earning enough money to return to Barlow before the end of the summer decreased.
She glanced at her wristwatch, a prize from her high school for being the class valedictorian, and realized she was due to meet Pauline at the newspaper office in a few minutes’ time.
She moved slowly along the sidewalk, dodging a group of young boys clutching drippy ice cream cones, no doubt purchased at the shop that needed no more staff.
When she reached the newspaper office and peered through the plate- glass window, she could see Mr. Mayhew seated behind a wooden desk.
A lazily turning ceiling fan ruffled the newspaper held in his hands.
He looked up as she entered and gave her a warm smile.
“Pauline hasn’t arrived yet, so you’ll have to make do with me for the time being,” he said. Before she could reply, the door opened behind her, and a heavyset woman with gray curly hair topped by a green pillbox hat pushed past her and headed straight for the desk next to Mr. Mayhew’s.
“That Iris Hubbard has gotten above herself, and make no mistake,” she said, thumping her brown leather handbag down beside an old-fashioned typewriter. She dropped into the desk chair and spun it around to face Mr. Mayhew.
“That doesn’t sound like Iris to me,” Mr. Mayhew said as he lowered the paper.
“According to my niece Velda, Iris’s new job has gone right to her head.”
Mr. Mayhew raised his eyebrows. “I thought Velda and Iris got along just fine.”
Cynthia wasn’t quite sure what to do. She felt as though she were eavesdropping, but the woman must have seen her when she entered the office.
After all, she’d practically bumped into her as she made a beeline for her desk.
She decided it would be more awkward to leave than to simply stand quietly and wait for Mr. Mayhew to introduce her—or better yet, for Pauline to arrive.
The woman continued as if she didn’t care who heard what she had to say. “By all accounts they did, until Iris fired her without warning.”
“Are you sure? That doesn’t sound like Iris to me,” he said again.
“I hardly think Velda would make up stories about being let go. Regardless, where is she going to find another job now that the season is already underway? Everyone already hired any staff that they need weeks ago.”
The feeling of discouragement Cynthia had been striving to hold off washed over her. It had not been panicked imagination on her part. There truly were no jobs to be had. She glanced over at Mr. Mayhew, hoping the woman was wrong.
“Iris would know that Velda wouldn’t find other work. She must have had a good reason to dismiss her,” he said.
The woman crossed her arms over her ample bust and scowled.
“Oh, she gave a reason, all right, but it wasn’t what I would call ‘good.’ I also wouldn’t say there’s a bit of truth in it either.” The woman’s voice grew louder and more strident. “Iris accused her of stealing. She said she can’t have any untrustworthy staff, but especially not one of the maids.”
Mr. Mayhew sucked in a sharp breath. “That sounds serious.”
“It will utterly ruin Velda’s reputation. Iris’s opinion counts for something in town, and if she’s going around saying Velda’s a thief, then no one else will hire her either. Not now and not in the years to come. I cannot believe she would do a thing like that.”
It seemed to Cynthia that her niece’s plight wasn’t being helped by the woman gossiping about her misfortune in front of a total stranger.
If she had been the girl accused of stealing, she would hardly want a family member spreading the story to someone like Mr. Mayhew.
Considering his role at the paper, as well as his large social set, he was in the position to pass the story along to any number of others, should he choose to do so.
“I’m sure that Velda is upset, but I cannot imagine that Iris would make such an accusation without some sort of proof.
After all, she is new to the housekeeper role, and she won’t succeed at it if the service provided to guests at the Maine Chance falls off.
Miss Arden isn’t known for her tolerance of anything less than the best,” Mr. Mayhew said.
“It would be no more than she deserved if Iris got the boot, too, after what she’s done to poor Velda.
” The woman spun back around in her chair and yanked open her purse.
She pulled out a cigarette case and, with a trembling hand, flicked her lighter.
She leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes as she took a long drag.
“Considering the fact that Velda is probably the only person in Mount Vernon who doesn’t already have a job, Iris will have a devil of a time finding someone to replace her. ”
Cynthia’s heart pounded faster. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Pauline across the street. She raised a hand to Mr. Mayhew and hurried out of the newspaper office and rushed towards her friend.
“Sorry I’m late. I ran into Kenneth, and he invited us to meet him on the beach this afternoon to water-ski,” Pauline said as she reached her side. “How goes the job search?”
Cynthia shook her head. “What’s the Maine Chance?” she asked as she laid a hand on Pauline’s arm to keep her from crossing the street.
“It’s a spa and beauty resort. Elizabeth Arden owns it.”
Cynthia felt a thrill race through her. She admired the cosmetic mogul and looked up to her as one of the most successful businesswomen of the age. She had no idea that the older woman had a connection to Maine.
“If Elizabeth Arden is involved, it must be exclusive.”
“You could say that. I’ve heard that Eleanor Roosevelt and Rita Hayworth are both frequent visitors.”
“A place like that is here in Mount Vernon?” Cynthia asked.
She knew that tourists were drawn to Maine in droves, and for good reason.
The state was famous for its rocky coast, vast forests, and pristine lakes.
Still, even though she didn’t take her home’s assets for granted, she was startled to think such illustrious names made their way to as quiet a place as Mount Vernon.
The town was charming, to be sure, but it wasn’t a place Cynthia would have expected to attract the notice of First Ladies and Hollywood starlets.
“Yes. It’s on Long Pond. Why do you ask?”
“Because from what that woman in the newspaper office is saying to your father, they have just had an opening for a maid.”
Pauline squinted at the window. “That’s Daddy’s right hand, Bernice. Did she say they were hiring?”
“She said her niece has just been fired from the place. And she said the housekeeper will have trouble finding a replacement.” Cynthia tried to keep the glee from her voice. After all, it felt wrong to be so encouraged by another’s misfortune.
Pauline tipped her head to one side. “I should have thought of the resort straightaway, but somehow it just slipped my mind. It’s one of those places that’s so self-contained there isn’t much impact on the town because of it, other than seasonal employment for maids and gardeners.”
“The guests don’t spend money in town?” Cynthia asked.
Service jobs in the tourism industry were beneficial to the economy, but the value of tourist dollars at gas stations, restaurants, and shops selling souvenirs, toiletries, and clothing items was considerable too.
A business that contributed one without the other was nowhere near as useful to a community as one that offered both.
Pauline snorted. “The types of ladies who spend over five hundred dollars each week to stay at the Maine Chance are not the sort to shop at the five-and-dime. If they need to shop, they have a driver take them to Augusta or Portland to do it.”
At least that meant they were still spending money in the state’s economy.
Between the profit on the actual goods, the sales tax, and the toll money spent on the new turnpike, the dollars could add up considerably.
Still, Cynthia knew that the most desirable outcome for a town was to keep as much of the lucrative tourist money in their own communities.
As much as she felt guilty about it, even if she got a job, she wouldn’t be spending her hard-earned paycheck on anything but the bare necessities either.
“If it isn’t too far, I think I’ll head over there straightaway.”
Pauline’s forehead crinkled. “But what about waterskiing? Kenneth promised that Glenn would be there.”
“You know I have to make the job search my priority. I’m sure there will be other times.”
Pauline nodded. “I guess. I wish I could offer you a ride, but if I do, Daddy will want to know why I need the car, and then your secret will be out.”
Cynthia looked down at her shoes. They weren’t ideal for walking, but they would do if the resort wasn’t too far off.
“Just wish me luck and point me in the right direction. I’m sure I’ll get there on my own.”
She listened carefully to Pauline’s directions, then started down the road, hoping that at last she would have some luck. With a name like the Maine Chance, she felt as though she might just be about to see a change in her fortunes.