Chapter 23 Iris
Iris
The phone rang just as Iris had tucked the third sheet corner under the mattress of the bed she was making up.
It was the girl at the reception desk, who had managed to track her down in a guest room on the second floor.
Apparently, there was someone there to see her.
She asked the name of her visitor, and when told that it was Cynthia Proctor, it rang no alarm bells.
Still, she assured the receptionist that she would be down momentarily and hurried as quickly as she could with the rest of the bedding.
In two minutes flat, she had plumped all the pillows and was back in the hushed corridor, a bundle of sheets clamped beneath her arm.
There was no real reason to change all the sheets every day, especially since the guests spent a great deal of time lounging about in the pool or the oversize bathtubs each room boasted.
And it wasn’t as if any of the ladies had male companions sharing their beds.
No, the only reason for it was Miss Arden’s insistence on attention to the smallest of details.
Iris felt a rising panic in her chest as she shoved the sheets into a discreetly placed laundry chute and descended the plushly carpeted front stairs.
If Cynthia Proctor was a last-minute guest of Miss Arden’s, she wasn’t sure she would be able to keep her job.
Velda’s dismissal had stretched the maids to the limit, and even with Iris pitching in to the best of her ability, it was tough going.
To top it all off, Miss Arden had telephoned to announce she had again decided to honor her guests with an extra-early preview of her fall fashion line.
She had sent the manager of her clothing line to the resort earlier in the week, and the woman had insisted that the models for the show be Maine Chance employees.
Some of the models were chosen from the spa side of the resort, but the rest were to be picked from the housekeeping staff.
She and Dolores, the girl on staff who showed the most promise to take over her own former role of head maid, were unlikely to have a day off for the foreseeable future, even without an additional guest to accommodate.
She paused on the fifth step from the top.
It provided a clear view of her caller. Her heart rate slowed to a more sedate pace.
The woman standing at the desk was no impatient matron covered in cashmere and pearls.
In fact, she could barely be called a woman at all.
Unless Miss Arden’s skin potions worked as well as she claimed they did, her visitor wasn’t a day over twenty.
Curiosity piqued, she moved swiftly down the remainder of the staircase.
“Miss Hubbard, at your service. How may I be of assistance?” she asked as she crossed the wide reception hall and held out a hand. The one that clasped it felt slightly damp despite the white cotton glove covering it. Was the girl overly warm, or was she feeling nervous?
“I was rather hoping that I might be of assistance to you,” the girl said. “It has come to my attention that a maid position here at the Maine Chance has recently become available. I would like to apply.”
Iris blinked. How on earth had a complete stranger heard the news of Velda’s dismissal before she had even had time to phone in a help-wanted advertisement to the newspaper or have one of the chauffeurs hang up a notice at the shops in town?
“I haven’t posted any such opening. How is it that you know that there is a job to be had?”
The girl’s cheeks tinted ever so slightly, but she answered with a strong, clear voice.
“I was in the newspaper office when a woman who worked there came in and announced that her niece had been asked to leave your employ.”
Of course Bernice would be the sort to carry tales even if they were about her own kin. Iris wondered at the need for a newspaper in Mount Vernon with a woman like Bernice in town. All the news could be had for free when she was around.
“Is that so?” Iris said. “Did she say anything else?”
Cynthia paused as if Iris’s tone warned her not to proceed. She seemed to think better of it and nodded.
“She implied that you would need to replace the maid as soon as possible in order to maintain the standards your establishment is known for.”
“And armed with so little information, you came here hoping to gain what another poor girl has lost?” Iris asked.
“I admit, I felt sorry for her, but since I am in need of a job myself, I saw no reason to hesitate.”
“I haven’t seen you in town before, and I don’t recognize your name. What brings you to Mount Vernon?”
Cynthia met her gaze. “I’m here visiting the Mayhew family. That’s how I happened to be at the newspaper office.”
“You know the Mayhews?” Iris asked.
“Pauline Mayhew has been my roommate at Barlow College for the past two years.”
Any spark of interest Iris felt in hiring her sputtered out.
It wasn’t that she didn’t like the look of the young woman standing in front of her.
Truth be told, she seemed like an entirely respectable sort of girl.
With her modest skirt and demure blouse, she certainly would do the company credit as far as her appearance was concerned.
Even though her face was flushed with the heat, she looked well groomed, just a bit of powder and a hint of lipstick.
There would be no need for an awkward conversation about what could be considered slovenly or tawdry.
No, the problem wasn’t that she did not appear to be a very respectable sort of girl.
It all came down to a question: How could Pauline Mayhew’s fancy college roommate be willing to lower herself enough to perform the amount of manual labor that the position of a maid at the Maine Chance Farm would involve?
And no matter how desperate she might be to replace Velda, Iris was not at all convinced that any college girl—private school or public—would treat the job with the amount of dedication she truly needed from her employees.
Without proper motivation towards doing so, staff members were of little use to her.
It was surprising how challenging it was to find people who hit that sweet spot between the need for a job and the ability to perform it.
Certainly this young woman could be seen by guests without causing concern.
Iris tipped her head to one side and looked Cynthia up and down once more.
If she were to be discovered in one of the guest’s rooms tidying things up or carrying in a breakfast tray in the morning, she would know how to politely converse should the need arise.
In the few moments Iris had spent with her, it was clear she was a well-spoken person.
But could she spend a day changing sheets, mopping floors, and scrubbing down the bathrooms?
Iris simply couldn’t see it. As much as she wanted this young woman to be the solution to her problem, she had her doubts.
And the fact was, she didn’t have the time to waste training someone who most likely would be gone before her first day was out.
“I’m afraid we have no room on staff for a college girl, no matter how much you claim to want the job.
Being a maid is far more difficult than those who are used to being served are aware.
If you are interested in a bit more pocket money than your parents are willing to spare, I suggest you offer your services as a babysitter to the Mayhews’ social set.
I’m sure that you would appeal to them.”
Before the girl could reply, Erma Bancroft, the fashion manager, bustled into the hall with her lips clamped unbecomingly together.
“Miss Hubbard, I am afraid we have a crisis on our hands.” She came to a stop and flapped her hands in front of her.
“Janet, the manicurist who is scheduled to be one of the models for tonight’s show, has, for reasons she refuses to disclose, developed too great a girth for the clothing collection we plan to present.
I’m sure I need not tell you what that means. ”
Indeed, she did not. Surely the spa would be down one manicurist before the week was out. Erma rushed on.
“Not only that, but it’s also come to my attention that you have dismissed that girl, Velda, who was supposed to be in the show too. What could you possibly have been thinking?”
“I assure you, it could not be helped.”
Erma sniffed. “If you say so. But that doesn’t make the problem any easier. Do you have anyone else on your staff that is a size eight?”
Iris ran the staff list through her mind. Most of her girls were trim, but the clothing for the show was especially small, and most of the maids were too sturdily built to fit into them. They needed to be to endure the rigors of the job, at least in her opinion.
“I’m afraid not. Velda was the only one.”
Erma turned and ran an appraising glance up and down the girl standing at Iris’s side.
“You look about the right size,” she said to Cynthia.
The girl stepped forward. “I’m exactly a size eight.”
“Walk up and down the hall for me,” Erma said.
Cynthia did as she was told, neatly turning at the end of the corridor. Iris had to admit, she was far more graceful that Velda had ever been.
“You’ll do just fine. Iris, why didn’t you suggest her?”
“She isn’t a member of staff.”
“That is a shame. What are we supposed to tell Miss Arden? She won’t want to hear that the show was canceled because we didn’t have the staff for it. I won’t take the blame for this all on my own.”
Iris’s heart jumped about in her chest again. She could almost hear Miss Arden’s voice telling her to pack her things and go with far less concern than Iris had delivered that same message to Velda. But it was the sound of Cynthia’s voice that actually filled her ears.