Chapter 24
L ydia was used to moving around in semidarkness after sunset and to being cold for that matter. With no central heating in her parents’ sprawling home, she’d learned to bundle up in the winter. But she thought winter had passed by. Now she felt hurled backwards as if she were snowballing down a hill.
She thought about the hot chocolate she had agreed to warm for the hotel’s patrons. She must get busy.
Like the windmill back on the farm her mind spun to the kilts she’d admired—the tartan pleated kilts that the hotel’s female employees wore. When the women walked, the skirts seemed to dance behind them. A lovely sight. Although Dat would find them flirtatious no doubt.
As her thoughts twirled and zigzagged, she considered the idea of a man wearing a kilt. Apparently at one time this was common. She’d seen men dressed thusly in paintings on the hotel’s walls. Would Alec do such a thing? She chortled as she imagined his hairy legs hidden under long stockings. Hush, she said to herself. Her dat would consider this sinful thinking.
Ach, she’d forgotten to bring a cup of hot chocolate to the room for herself. As she descended the stairs and headed back to the kitchen, she heard voices and laughter. She made her way toward the conversation using a flashlight Molly had lent her to illuminate her path.
Then all went silent. Using what her mam called “quiet feet,” she tiptoed into the kitchen. Ahead she saw a couple holding hands making their way inside.
“I’m sorry,” flew out of her mouth before she could stop herself. She had nothing to be sorry for. Regret was her initial reaction to everything.
It appeared that Alec was leading Denny by the hand. Both gawked at her. Their faces wore a look of surprise, as well they should. Lydia was shocked. Hadn’t those two just met each other only hours earlier? They were practically strangers. Not that Lydia wouldn’t want to be in Denny’s place. Ever since first seeing Alec, she had been attracted to him.
“Something we can do for you?” Denny asked, not releasing his hand.
Lydia despised Denny’s haughty tone of voice. At this moment, Lydia disliked everything about Denny. But she would be forced to share a room with this horrible woman. What choice did Lydia have? Her mind whirled with ways to escape this awkward situation, but she came up empty.
She gathered her courage and glanced over at Alec, who was backstepping away from Denny. Lydia wondered if Denny had grabbed hold of his hand the way his other arm hung at his side so limply. Clearly, he was uncomfortable or embarrassed.
Alec filled in the blanks. “She was having trouble walking on the icy path.”
“That’s too bad.” Lydia wanted to laugh. Men were so gullible to a woman’s guiles.
Mrs. Ross stepped into the room holding a flashlight. “This kitchen is as cold as an ice chest. What are you all doing in here?” She flashed her beam into Lydia’s face. “Weren’t you going to make hot chocolate? Oh, never mind, I see you did. Best go to bed.”
“Yes, Mam—I mean madam,” Lydia said. “I only wanted to help.”
“I think we’ve had enough help around here for one night.”
“You certainly can’t blame the snowfall on my sister,” Denny said. “Or the electricity outage. Or the fact that you have no fuel to run the generator. Alec and I just went out there to check it, and you have no gasoline, or whatever you run the machine with.” Denny sounded as ornery as Dat’s bull that had never been polled so its horns were hazardous. Which brought a smile to Lydia’s mouth. Always her thoughts returned to her parents’ farm. Both fond and bad memories.
“But she turned on the oven without first looking inside,” Mrs. Ross said. “The smoke came out so quickly. And she calls herself a professional chef.”
“Because she is.” The corners of Denny’s mouth tugged back into a grimace. Then she pressed her lips together into a flattened line. “How dare you demean her behind her back?” Denny said. “My sister paid good money to stay here in the dark and cold.” Her hands clamped her narrow hips. “If any of us get sick, it will be on your head.”
Lydia was glad Alec was seeing Denny for who she was. Bossy and belligerent under her sophisticated and creamy surface. The real Denny was exposing herself for all to see. Yet in many ways, Lydia admired Denny’s audacity. Lydia would never have the courage to let her thoughts fly out of her mouth like wasps from a nest. Lydia was trapped inside a meek Amish woman’s body. Just like her subservient mam, who would never speak back to Dat. Why, he was a minister of their district and commanded respect and obedience for the rest of his life. Her poor mam.
And what would be Lydia’s fate? To always serve others. She recalled one Sunday last year listening to a minister speaking about Jesus washing the disciples’ feet. Simon Peter had argued that he shouldn’t, but Jesus insisted on serving Peter even as death’s jaws approached. Lydia knew her rebellious nature was not what God wanted for her, but she enjoyed stretching her wings as it were and letting others serve her. Not that when it came to looking after Amanda and tidying up the Cooks’ palatial home, she wasn’t a hard worker. Ach, was she fooling herself? The truth was she had become lazy and was happiest watching TV and playing video games with Amanda—after helping the girl with her homework. Amanda’s homework from a college prep school was a cinch for Lydia. That’s why she figured she could pass the GED test and maybe even earn a scholarship to college. Her teacher in the one room schoolhouse had told Lydia was that she was bright. Brighter than bright.
Or was she fooling herself?
“Lydia?” Denny said. Lydia realized she was staring into nothingness.
Lydia spun around and walked right into an open wire cabinet housing dishes, teacups, and plates that shattered to the floor. The crashing sound echoed throughout the room.
“Are you okay?” Alec asked.
“Yah.” Lydia froze for fear of stepping on a shard or knocking over something else.
“Be careful,” he said.
“I can’t believe it.” Mrs. Ross shone her flashlight across the floor. “Who’s going to clean up this mess? And pay for the damages?”
“I’m so sorry.” Lydia felt mortified. She was glad the room was dim; she could feel her cheeks flooding scarlet red. What would she tell Maureen when Mrs. Ross presented her with a bill? Maureen might fire her. Maureen might leave her here.
“Hold on,” Alec said. “That was an accident. I saw the whole thing.”
Denny did not come to her aid as Lydia hoped she would.
“A clumsy accident,” Mrs. Ross snapped. “I could lose my job.”
“I’m sure it won’t come to that,” Alec said.
“I will take the blame because it was my fault.” Lydia felt her heart pounding against her chest like a caged bird. At home she would not be punished if she were repentant and cleaned up the shards. But she would pay her parents back for the loss. How could she possibly do that in this instance?
“The snow will let up, and all will be well in the morning.” Lydia repeated something she had read in a book or seen in a movie. Fiction.
“If anything, the weather’s getting worse.” He shined his flashlight out the window. “The snow’s increasing, and the temperature’s dropping.”
“What if the pipes break?” Denny asked.
Mrs. Ross let out a gasp. “Oh no, I hadn’t thought of that.”
“I’m no plumber, but I’ve heard it’s good to let cold water drip during a freeze.” Suddenly Denny was a professional?
“Good idea.” Alec turned on the water to a slow drip.
“How many guests are left in the hotel?” Denny asked.
“Just you and your sister and her daughter and one couple on their honeymoon.”
Mrs. Ross rubbed her chin. “The rest took off. Not that I blame them. I’m glad we were not booked to capacity.”
Denny chuckled. “The newlyweds will keep each other warm.”
“We’d better send someone up to make sure they have enough wood for their fireplace.” Mrs. Ross sounded in a tizzy.
“I’ll do it.” Lydia was glad for an excuse to leave the room.
“I’ll help you,” Alec said.
“No.” Denny’s voice cut in with authority. “First Lydia should clean up her mess here in the kitchen so no one hurts themselves. I’ll help Alec bring in wood. Many hands make light work, right?”
“That sounds like a better plan.” Mrs. Ross handed a broom and dustpan to Lydia. “Get to work. Sweep up every piece.” She tugged over a plastic garbage bin to Lydia’s side.
“While I help Alec.” Denny reminded Lydia of a she-cat in her dat’s barn.
“Whatever you like,” Alec said, not sounding enthusiastic to Lydia’s way of thinking. Not sounding enthusiastic at all. Lydia couldn’t help but wonder if he wouldn’t choose her over Denny under different circumstances. Her imagination took flight, and she envisioned herself in his arms. But the reality was that he might not find her attractive.
Lydia had spent long periods of time staring into the mirror in Amanda’s bathroom, pretending she was a princess in a storybook or a glamorous actress in one of Amanda’s TV shows. A waste of time if ever there were one.