Chapter 46
L ydia wished she had gone with Maureen. Now what would she do with herself for the rest of the day? For the rest of her life would be a better way of putting it because after today she might not have a job. Sure, Maureen treated her well enough, but this might be the last straw, as Dat would say.
She noticed Mrs. Ross dusting. Lydia gathered her courage to speak to her. She couldn’t imagine what the older woman thought of her after she’d broken all that china but what did she have to lose? “I wonder if you need to hire new employees after this terrible snow,” Lydia said.
Mrs. Ross tilted her head. “What would the snow have to do with anything? We’ll not be firing anyone that we told could take the time off.”
Lydia felt her cheeks warming. “Of course you wouldn’t, but will you hire more people during the warmer months when you have more business?”
“You are speaking to the wrong person. The hotel’s owner, Gordon McDonald, makes all those decisions, not I.” She continued her dusting. “I suppose you could help me right now. I need someone to set the tables. Not that we have many people staying at the hotel.” She turned to face Lydia. “Be sure not to break anything.”
“Yes, madam.” Lydia’s first urge was to defend herself but no matter. “I’d be glad to help in any way I can. Just tell me what to do.” She refolded a napkin. “And I’ll be extra careful.”
Mrs. Ross looked out the window. “I can’t believe the snow is still falling. I doubt any customers will come in today. Or any staff for that matter. Several have called, and I told them to stay home.”
It occurred to Lydia that this was the perfect time to prove herself. She would show Mrs. Ross what a competent worker she was.
Lydia straightened a table setting. No use putting more flatware out until customers actually came in. “I’m at your command until Maureen gets back. Please ask me to do anything.”
Mrs. Ross assessed Lydia’s outfit. “If you are going to be out here with our customers, then I’d like you to wear a kilt. Would you have a problem with that?”
“Not in the slightest. In fact, I’d love it.”
“We have some extras in the storage room.”
Lydia was tickled with the idea.
“All right then,” Mrs. Ross said. “In the meantime, check on the coffee urn and water in the kettle in the kitchen. I’ll be right back.”
“Yes, I will.” Lydia was filled with hope and delight as she dashed into the kitchen and did as she was told.
Minutes later Mrs. Ross brought Lydia a plaid kilt. “This kilt might be a bit large for such a wee slip of a thing. As you can see, it can be cinched to fit your slim waist.” She held it up. “But there’s nothing to be done about that length.”
“I don’t mind. I’m used to wearing long skirts.”
Mrs. Ross cast her a look of doubt. “If you say so.” Mrs. Ross unfolded the kilt and held it up to Lydia. “This seems to be the shortest one, and yet it’s too long for you.”
Lydia took the kilt from her. “I can make it work.” She wrapped it around her slender frame, and it cascaded to the floor. But not too long.
“Have you ever worked in a restaurant before?”
“Yes—I mean no.” Lydia was determined to tell the truth. “But I come from a large family, and I’m used to waiting on people.” She scooped up a couple of menus. “I’m sure I can manage.”
“Until the owner gets back that’s fine. He is the one who will make the decision. And don’t you work for Maureen Cook?”
“Under the circumstances, I think she’ll want me to help you.” Lydia adored the feel of the wool fabric on her legs. She wondered if she could sew such a complicated garment—how the red, green, and blue plaid were folded and sewn around her hips was still a mystery—the opposite of what she was used to. At her waist, two buckles secured it. She’d never fastened buckles at her waist. Too fancy. She shuddered to imagine what her father’s reaction would be.
“Here’s a vest.” Mrs. Ross handed Lydia a lovely olive-green vest with matching buttons down the front.
Lydia ran her hands across the velveteen’s smooth surface. “Thank you so much.”
“It is you who is helping us.” Mrs. Ross sent her a smile—maybe the first genuine show of kindness since Lydia had arrived. But then she remembered the broken china in the kitchen.
“I can help pay off the cost of the china today if that’s all right with you.”
“That’s a wonderful idea.” Mrs. Ross’s expression turned serious—her mouth pursed. “But please try not to break anything else.”
“I’ll be ever so careful.”
“The newlyweds might have placed an order outside their door. How would you feel about preparing it and bringing it up to them?”
“I’ll go check and get working on it right away,” Lydia said.
Mrs. Ross handed her a slip of paper. “Last night they ordered enough to feed an army, but it’s what they ordered, so Molly brought it to them.” She glanced down at the paper, then back up to Lydia’s eyes as if assessing her ability. “Have you ever made hollandaise sauce before? And what about poached eggs?”
“I’m sure I can manage. If nothing else, I can look in a cookbook.”
“Here, try this one.” Mrs. Ross handed her a dogeared hardcover book.
Lydia cracked the book and checked in the back for a hollandaise sauce recipe. Her mouth watered as she scanned the ingredients. In her mind she could taste the melted butter whisked together with egg yolks and lemon juice. “Yah, I can make this if you find me the Dijon mustard.” She didn’t think Mam kept it in her pantry. She reread the recipe and her vision landed on cayenne pepper . The recipe called for only a pinch so it must be strong or zesty. She’d never heard of it but didn’t dare ask Mrs. Ross. If only Mam was here to help her.
“We serve nothing but the very best,” Mrs. Ross said. “And it must be garnished. Do you know what I’m talking about?”
Lydia wasn’t sure she did, but she nodded. Ach, she had lied again. “I’ll do my very best.” That was the truth. She would if it killed her.
“Since we’re low on staff, I will rely on you to work the cash register too.” Mrs. Ross moved toward a modern cash register, pushed a button, and opened it. “What have we here? It’s empty, save for a few coins.” She swung around to Lydia and said, “Did you open this and remove cash?”
“No, as God is my witness, I did not take anything.” Lydia knew that invoking the Lord’s name was against the teaching of the Ordnung, but too late to take the words back now.
Ach, no matter her clothes, nor hair—try as she might—she wasn’t Englisch. And never would be. She felt as if she were floating in the middle of nowhere. She didn’t belong here nor did she belong back in New Jersey living with Maureen and James in their plush house watching TV and using electrical appliances. Or scrolling through the internet for hours as she waited for Amanda to get home from school, then cajoled the stubborn girl to do her homework.
But Lydia intended on following through the best she could. She hustled up the stairs to the newlyweds’ room and found that they had written their lunchorder and placed it outside their door atop a mountain of dirty dishes. Lydia wouldn’t mind getting a look at them but figured they wanted privacy, which is what she would want on her honeymoon should she ever go on one. Should she ever get married.
Back in the kitchen, she located an oval silver tray with a handle at each end. She polished its tarnished surface until it shone. Then she placed two folded cloth napkins and flatware with care upon it. She took a moment to admire her creation and hoped the newlyweds would approve. Not to mention Mrs. Ross.
“I’ve thought of a job for you while we wait for the food orders to come in.” Mrs. Ross seemed pleased with herself. “How are you at making beds?”
“I can do that for you.” Lydia suddenly felt confident. “Just tell me what you need, and I’ll gladly do it.”
Mrs. Ross gathered several room keys and held them out. “All these rooms still have dirty sheets on the beds, and they need cleaning, now that I think about it. Could you manage that?”
“Yah. Do you have a washer and dryer?” Lydia was glad she’d used Maureen’s so many times. Her mam had taught her to make beds neatly and she’. In truth Lydia was proud of her housekeeping abilities, but she mustn’t puff up like a rooster.
“Well then, I can keep you busy for as long as it takes Mrs. Cook to return. Which may be a while.” Mrs. Ross glanced out the window. “It doesn’t look as if the snow is letting up.”