Chapter 31 Cynthia
Cynthia
Cynthia’s heart pounded and her throat felt dry as she left the staff kitchen in search of Iris.
Mrs. Putnam’s note crinkled in her pocket with each step she took.
Had she given offense in some way? Mrs. Putnam certainly was an unusual woman.
Who could possibly know what she might wish to communicate to Iris?
Running was expressly forbidden on the property, as it was considered unseemly and inclined to draw unnecessary attention to the staff, not to mention it caused them to perspire, which was certainly not something the guests would wish to be subjected to.
Still, Cynthia saw no reason not to walk just as quickly as she possibly could.
If she was going to be fired based on a comment from Mrs. Putnam, she had best know it sooner rather than later if she hoped to secure a different job—if that was even possible.
Her stomach roiled with nerves as she slipped along the staff hallway and into the main part of the building.
A quick inspection of the dining room, with its vases of freshly cut flowers and sparkling chandelier, revealed no trace of the housekeeper.
Cynthia checked the writing room, with no more luck.
But as she was about to cross the wide hallway to inspect the sitting room, she spotted her quarry.
Iris, with her silver-streaked dark hair swept severely into a bun, stood behind the reception desk, running her finger down the page of a very large leather-bound volume.
From a distance, it looked like an old-fashioned ledger, but as Cynthia drew closer, she realized it was a guest book.
Iris glanced up with a slight scowl stamped on her strong features.
“I thought I told you to report to the laundry house after your lunch break,” she said, pausing her finger halfway down the page in front of her.
“You did, but Mrs. Putnam asked that I bring this to you immediately,” Cynthia said, sliding her hand into her apron pocket and withdrawing the crinkly sheet of paper.
Iris held out her hand, and Cynthia swallowed dryly as she placed the note in it.
The housekeeper unfolded the piece of paper and read through the contents quickly, her lips pressing together more tightly with each line her gaze passed over.
Cynthia detected the barest bit of a grumble under Iris’s breath as she placed the note on the desk in front of her and tapped a long, strong finger on top of it.
“How did you manage a thing like this?” Iris asked. “Not only is this highly unusual, but it couldn’t have come at a worse time.”
Cynthia was certain she was about to be fired.
Whatever the note contained, it was not something that pleased her employer in the least. She hardly knew how to answer, considering she had no knowledge of the note’s contents.
She forced herself not to allow her gaze to focus sufficiently on the paper between them in order to read the message.
“I’m not sure what it is I’m supposed to have done, but I assure you, it was not my intention to offend Mrs. Putnam in any way.”
Iris exhaled sharply through her nose, creating a bit of a whistling sound. It did not indicate pleasure or good cheer.
“Offend her? I should say you didn’t do that in the least,” Iris said, shoving the note in her direction. “You don’t know what this is about?”
Cynthia shook her head. “No, ma’am, I don’t. Mrs. Putnam instructed me not to read the note before handing it to you.”
“And she didn’t tell you what she wanted?”
Cynthia shook her head once more. “No. She simply instructed me to carry it to you as swiftly as possible. I thought she must be displeased with me for some reason.”
Iris crossed her arms over her chest. “And you brought the note to me anyway?” Iris asked.
“If Mrs. Putnam is unhappy with me, it would hardly make matters better by flouting her instructions.”
“We might just make a decent maid out of you yet. That is, if you don’t get too above yourself, on account of Mrs. Putnam’s request,” Iris said.
“She’s requesting that you should be the only one assigned to her room.
And she asks that you be made available to serve as an artist model whenever you can be spared from your regular duties. ”
Cynthia’s thoughts jumbled and swirled. She knew she was still far too slow at the job she had been hired to do. How would she possibly manage to find time to pose for Mrs. Putnam as well?
“Do guests often request particular maids?” Cynthia asked.
She had so many questions that she didn’t ask.
What did that mean for her job? Would she still be paid at the same rate if her duties had altered from the ones Iris had expected when she hired her?
Mrs. Putnam wasn’t the new-money sort that Dolores said was most likely to splash their wealth around, but maybe she would turn out to be generous with tips.
No matter what, it was better than being fired for refusing her request.
“Not often, but occasionally we have guests that take a shine to certain members of staff. Although asking for you to serve as an artist’s model is a first.”
“I’m flattered. I only hope that it won’t leave you shorthanded,” Cynthia said.
It was a legitimate concern. As much as Cynthia knew she was throwing herself into her work as hard as she possibly could, the fact remained that she was not entirely up to speed.
Compared to someone like Dolores, who had been at the job for several years, she felt clumsy and slow.
Try as she might, she was still learning the ropes, and those ropes were not easy.
Again and again, she had spotted Iris pitching in with jobs that the maids were assigned to tackle.
Dolores had mentioned that generally the hotel ran with at least one more female member of staff, but the death of the former housekeeper had thrown a wrench into the usually well-oiled machinery.
“We’ll have to make it work. There’s no possible way I could refuse a direct request from a guest, especially not one as esteemed as Mrs. Putnam.
She happens to be a personal friend of Miss Arden’s, and it would never do to disappoint her.
And all this happens straight on top of Vivian Shaw’s arrival. I’m not quite sure how we’ll manage.”
Iris looked Cynthia up and down, drumming her fingers on the guest book in front of her before snapping it shut, wedging the note between its covers in her haste.
She stepped out from behind the registry desk and inclined her head towards the stairs.
“You had best follow me. There’s still plenty of work to be done. ”