Chapter 32 Cynthia
Cynthia
The view of the lake from the edge of the lawn at the Maine Chance was at least as beautiful as the one at the Mayhews’ cottage.
Cynthia bent over one of the many lounge chairs placed strategically to best take in the view and retrieved a crumpled towel from its seat.
The guests had completed their morningcalisthenics sessions and had returned to the Arden House for what passed as a meal.
Cynthia had noticed waiters carrying trays of clear bouillon and cherry tomatoes with chilled shrimp skewered onto ruffled picks.
Cheerful bouquets of blooms fresh from the garden valiantly distracted the eye from the paucity of calories.
Cynthia had overheard the other staff members joking and laughing about the guests paying such exorbitant fees for what amounted to starvation rations.
One of them had gone so far as to remark that they could have saved themselves enough money for a trip to Europe if they had simply fired their cooks and stayed at home.
Iris had come in at that very moment and rebuked the maid who had been making such disparaging comments.
She mentioned that they all might be on starvation rations if they lost their jobs, should the wealthy clients decide not to spend their money in Mount Vernon.
Cynthia couldn’t help but agree. It was none of her business how others wished to spend their money.
All she cared about was how she saved hers.
Iris had sent her out to the grounds to gather up stray towels wherever she might find them.
Some people might have considered it an unpleasant job, but Cynthia was grateful for the chance to spend some time out of doors.
After all, it was a glorious June day, and with the weather in Maine being so changeable, it was always a delight to take advantage of a fair day whenever it occurred.
Besides, it passed the time until she was to meet Mrs. Putnam for her first modeling session, the idea of which left her feeling at least as unsure as performing her duties under Iris’s watchful eye.
What did she know about modeling, other than the one evening parading about in designer gowns?
Surely posing for an artist was completely different.
And why had Mrs. Putnam chosen her in the first place?
She added the towel to the others already placed in the wicker basket propped on her hip and made her way towards a deck chair several yards down the beach.
Out in the middle of the lake, she spotted motorboats whizzing past, creating a wake that sent paddlers in canoes scrambling to steer their crafts into the oncoming waves.
For just a moment, she felt ever-so-slightly sorry for herself.
She spared a thought for Pauline, no doubt enjoying time with Glenn and the others out on the lake, or off on a shopping trip with her mother.
Then she caught sight of Calvin striding her way, and her thoughts of her roommate and whatever she might be up to evaporated like water droplets on hot asphalt.
“I see they have you on towel detail,” Calvin said. He bent over, retrieved the towel on the closest deck chair, and carried it towards her basket. He reached out and took the burden from her, clamping it under his arm with apparent ease.
“I consider myself lucky. It’s a beautiful day out, and just look at the view,” Cynthia said, sweeping her arm towards the expanse of water. “We have nothing like this back home.”
Calvin paused and looked out over the water as if considering the way that Cynthia must be seeing it. “I suppose you get used to such things when you grow up around them. Perhaps the people here are spoiled.”
“I think you must be. The closest thing to a lake in my town is the mill pond.”
Calvin smiled as he followed her. “Where is it that you’re from?”
“South Berwick. It’s a lovely place to live, but it isn’t exactly a tourist destination.”
“That’s down on the New Hampshire border, isn’t it?” he asked.
“That’s right. It is one of the towns along the Salmon Falls River dividing the southernmost border of Maine and New Hampshire.”
“I’ve never been there. Is it a lot different than Mount Vernon?”
She considered the question for a long moment before answering. “I suppose it depends on what you mean by ‘different.’”
“For instance, Mount Vernon’s population is under seven hundred people. Are there more in South Berwick?”
“We’ve got about two thousand more.”
“That practically makes you a city girl, at least by Maine standards,” he said.
“I suppose it does in a way. South Berwick is a mill town, which is different too. There are many rural areas, but the mill buildings give a more industrial feel than you see here in the lakes region.” She swept her hand out towards the water in front of them.
“We’ve also got Berwick Academy, which brings students from other places to town during the academic year, while your outsiders tend to come during the summer break. ”
“But it’s still Maine, though, isn’t it?”
The notion that they belonged to the same place in that way gave her heart a squeeze.
Like most other Mainers, she was proud of her claim to be a native, for reasons impossible to articulate to outsiders.
Either you were one of them or you weren’t, and that was entirely a matter of birth.
It was as if something entered a body at the first breath, and if that was Maine, it was something to cherish.
She liked the notion that she and Calvin shared that.
“How did you end up here?” he asked.
“I came north to attend Barlow College,” she said.
She wasn’t sure how much she wanted to reveal about the exact journey that had taken her to the Maine Chance.
It embarrassed her that her scholarship hadn’t been renewed.
Somehow she didn’t want Calvin to think ill of her.
She wasn’t quite sure why it mattered to her, but it did.
“So, you are a coed at a swanky school. And yet somehow you ended up working here as a maid. There’s got to be a story there somewhere,” he said.
“Not every coed—even ones that attend private colleges—are wealthy,” she said, bending over yet another towel.
“I thought you seemed like a different sort of girl that day I spotted you on the side of the road,” he said.
“Different how?” Cynthia asked.
“You just didn’t look the type to be walking down the road in search of the job. I had to blink a few times to be sure you were real when I first laid eyes on you,” he said.
Cynthia felt the back of her neck grow warm, and she didn’t think it was because of the bright sun bearing down on them.
“You are a bit different too,” she said, hoping to deflect any further comments on her strangeness.
Calvin stopped and shifted the laundry basket to his other arm. “I suppose I’m not like the college boys you’re used to. I bet I’m a bit rough around the edges, and not anywhere near so cultured.”
Cynthia tipped her head sideways and looked up at him.
He was right about that. He was not much like the parade of young men Pauline always had swarming around her.
For one thing, he didn’t seem to be all that concerned about making a good impression.
Nor did he project the false world-weariness of the young men who attempted to look sophisticated beyond their years.
No, he certainly did not remind her of her fellow students in most ways.
She wasn’t even quite sure that he was the same age as the average college student.
On the one hand, he seemed as though he was still young enough to have not filled out to his final size.
On the other, his level of self-assurance made him seem like he might be several years older than herself.
She wondered what had caused it, until she remembered that he had mentioned serving in Korea.
“I wouldn’t describe you like that at all.
You don’t remind me of the students I’ve been in classes with, but that doesn’t mean that comparison is unfavorable.
For one thing, you seem a great deal more mature than most of them.
I can’t imagine the most important thing in your life is figuring out what to do on a Saturday night,” Cynthia said.
Calvin smiled down at her. “I’ll take that as a compliment. I do have a few weightier matters usually preying on my mind.”
“Like what?” Cynthia asked, feeling emboldened.
“I’m considering what to do with my future now that I’ve managed to make it back home unscathed,” he said. “I’m only at this job for the summer while I figure out my next move.”
“Do you intend to stay in town after the season is over?”
He shrugged. “I suppose it depends on what kind of employment opportunities are available. I have my sights set on something, but it might be a long shot.”
Calvin’s tone had lost a bit of its confidence. If she had to guess, whatever he was hoping for meant a great deal to him.
“Do you want to tell me about it?” she asked.
He stopped and tipped his head to one side, considering. “Maybe someday.”
“What sort of job do you think you might be looking for if your plans fall through?”
“I hope that it won’t come to that, but if it does, then I shall have to take whatever there is going. There aren’t too many jobs to be had that pay worth a damn here in the offseason, but there’s always the need for laborers of some sort or another,” he said.
“You mean like people who work on farms, that kind of thing?”
“Farming is one, although there’s not the same call for that as there used to be. There are opportunities for lumberjacks and positions for driving log trucks to the mills. And of course, there are the boot factories to consider,” he said.
There were boot factories near her hometown too.
Enormous brick buildings with streams of workers flowing in and out three shifts during the day.
For some people, the work seemed to be agreeable enough, but somehow she couldn’t imagine Calvin feeling that way.
He came off as too restless. And why wouldn’t he be?
After all, he had been as far away from home as Asia.
Could a small, rural town with few job prospects satisfy him?
She knew from her classes as well as her research that the economy in Maine had not quite caught up with the economic boom that much of the rest of the country was experiencing after the war.
Small farms were being forced out of business at an alarming rate, and an entire way of life in the rural areas was changing.
Many of the young people in the state had left, looking for more opportunities elsewhere.
One thing had led to another, and the situation became increasingly dire. She didn’t envy Calvin his choices.
“Whatever your plans for the future include, I hope that they work out for you. You don’t seem likely to be satisfied by settling for anything less than what you really want.”
Calvin shifted the laundry basket to his other side. He stared into her eyes with an intensity that ran through her like an electric shock. “You’re right about that. And you know, the list of what I want seems to be getting longer by the minute.”