To Love and Cherish (19 page)

Mr. Zimmerman approached their table. “The owners specifically asked that I offer their gratitude to you men who have worked so hard on the racetrack and putting green. There's a great deal of excitement, and with each passing day I receive letters requesting reservations in the clubhouse.”

“For sure, it's the attraction of the racetrack,” Garrison said. “Far more men are interested in the races than in hitting a ball in the grass.”

Mr. Zimmerman chuckled and patted Garrison's shoulder. “Golf is growing in popularity, too, especially among the wealthy, though I agree there is nothing as exciting as a good horse race.”

Mr. Nordegren approached and joined them. “I wonder if it's the racing or the wagering that entices men to the track.”

“I'm guessin' it would be the gamblin', for ya don't see many who go to gamin' halls or racetracks and do na place a wager.” Garrison withdrew his pipe from an inside pocket and filled the bowl with tobacco. “Men lose all good sense when it comes to wagerin'.” He pointed his pipe at Lawrence. “That beauty of an animal that Lawrence now owns is a prime example.”

Mr. Zimmerman arched a brow. “And what animal is that?”

Before Lawrence could answer, Mr. O'Sullivan told how Lawrence had won the horse while playing cards with a gentleman who had more money than good sense.

The supervisor frowned. “You will need permission if you plan to race him. I don't know if the investors will permit a worker to—”

“No need for concern, Mr. Zimmerman,” Lawrence said. “I don't plan to race the horse. In fact, if we can find another location on the island, I'd prefer to keep him stabled away from the other horses. I don't want the guests asking to ride him.” He glanced at the supervisor. “If I keep him in another place, it should avoid any questions or problems.”

Mr. Zimmerman tweaked the tip of his mustache. “I'm sure Garrison can offer you another place. There's an old stone structure over near the chicken coops that might suffice.” He turned toward Garrison. “That would work, don't you think?”

Garrison nodded. “As long as he doesn't mind hauling feed and hay over there, it will do.”

Emma chuckled. “I think it is a good plan. He can feed the chickens and gather the eggs while he's there.”

Mr. Zimmerman smiled and stood. “I think Mr. Nordegren and I will head back to the clubhouse. I need to finish going over some of my paper work.”

Once the dishes had been cleared and washed, the crowd had dwindled, and by the time the supervisors departed, there were only a few workers remaining.

“I hope you don't have to go just yet, Melinda. I thought we could spend a little more time together.” Evan tapped his pocket. “I have a gift for you.”

“I thought we would exchange gifts after church tomorrow.” She'd sensed his excitement, but she wanted to wait and exchange their gifts on Christmas Day. Today had already been filled with activity. Tomorrow they'd be well rested and have time to enjoy their time together without interruption.

He pulled her aside while the others circled around them and then left. “I'll attend church with you, but after dinner I'll need to work.”

“But tomorrow is Christmas, and it's also Sunday. Why do you need to work?” She swallowed hard to hold back her tears, but the thought that he planned to leave her alone on Christmas Day proved too much, and a tear escaped her eye.

His earlier excitement disappeared. He wiped away her tear and smiled. “There's no need for unhappiness, Melinda. We're going to be together every Christmas for the rest of our lives—this is just the first. And I promise I won't be gone all afternoon.” He lifted her chin with the tip of his finger. “Does that help?”

She nodded her head, knowing that her attitude was childish. She had tried so hard to do as the pastor had suggested and pray about the situation, but she knew her prayers were lacking . . . as was her faith. “A little time is better than none at all. Do you still want to exchange gifts this evening?”

He grinned. “I don't think I can wait until tomorrow.”

Hand in hand, they walked back to the maids' quarters. Though she had hoped he would agree to wait until tomorrow, excitement took hold of her as they neared the clubhouse. What gift had he selected for her? Melinda hurried to her room and retrieved the small wrapped package from the top drawer of her chest. They'd agreed they wouldn't spend any money on their presents. Instead, they would save for their future. She hoped he would be pleased with her gift and that he'd kept to their promise.

With the wrapped package in hand and heart pounding an erratic beat, Melinda rushed back outdoors. Evan led her around to the front porch, and they sat down on the steps. “I don't think Mr. Zimmerman will mind if we use the steps for a little while.”

Melinda giggled, ducked her head, and glanced up the wide stairway. “If we tried to sit on the porch, I think he would issue a warning, but I doubt he can see us clear down here.” She extended the gaily wrapped package. “I do hope you'll like it.”

He carefully untied the red cord and lifted away the paper. He looked into her eyes before he opened the box. “I will be pleased with any gift you give me.”

Unable to contain her excitement, she bounced on the step. “Go ahead. Open it.”

Evan lifted the lid and withdrew the brass pocket compass from inside the velvet-lined case. “It's beautiful.”

“It was my father's, and I want you to have it.”

“But what about Lawrence? Shouldn't this be his?”

She shook her head. “My father offered it to him when he turned eighteen, but he didn't want it. He said the only compass he would ever need was the stars.”

Evan leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “Thank you. I will cherish it—because it belonged to you and to your father before that.”

“And this is for you,” he said. “It belonged to my grandmother, and then my mother. I don't remember ever seeing Mother wear it, but she'd take it out from time to time and look at it. She'd tell me how she remembered her mother wearing it, and that she wanted me to have it, since she didn't have a daughter. It's the only possession I kept with me when I left home.”

She opened the small box. Nestled inside was a silver and turquoise pin. Melinda lifted it from the box. “It's beautiful, Evan.” She ran her finger around the outer silver edges. “Knowing it belonged to your grandmother and your mother makes it even more special to me.”

———

Evan gazed down at Melinda, unable to believe his good fortune. Any man would be pleased to have such a beautiful woman on his arm, but it was more than beauty that had drawn Evan to Melinda. From their first meeting, he'd been smitten by her ability to speak freely with him. She had told him of the loving home she'd enjoyed as a child and her desire to provide the same kind of home for her own children one day. Evan's heart had swelled as she'd revealed her hopes for the future, for Melinda's desires perfectly matched his own. He, too, wanted a home filled with love and laughter rather than anger.

Of course, he'd later learned that Melinda could be impetuous, but he'd soon found the quality endearing. Unlike his own childhood, where he would be throttled for failure to follow his father's strict instructions, Melinda's parents had encouraged her spontaneity and considered such behavior creative. Evan concurred—most of the time. And at this moment, he could find no fault in this lovely woman who had professed her love for him.

He drew her close, not caring if anyone might see. “I love you, Melinda, and I look forward to the day you'll become my wife.”

She tipped her head to accept the warmth of his lingering kiss and melted into his arms. Evan sighed. If only Melinda would be patient . . .

January 1899

With her hands folded to keep them from shaking, Melinda sat in the upholstered gilt-wood armchair outside Mr. Zimmerman's office door. She hoped her outward appearance didn't reflect the inner turmoil she'd experienced since being summoned to the supervisor's office. At the moment, her stomach jiggled like a bowl of egg whites awaiting the whirl of a Dover eggbeater.

At the creaking of the door, she jumped and glanced over her shoulder. “Do come in, Miss Colson.” Mr. Zimmerman stepped to the side to permit her entrance. He left the door ajar, obviously wanting to avoid any appearance of impropriety. He motioned for her to be seated before he circled the desk and took his place in a swiveling mahogany chair. He sighed as he shuffled through a stack of paper work. Finally he extracted two pieces of paper and placed them on top of the pile.

As usual, he was impeccably groomed. Each end of his mustache tipped at a flawless angle, and the part down the middle of his hair was perfectly straight. Not a wrinkle could be found in his pinstriped suit and matching vest. His white collar and cuffs had been starched to perfection, and his bow tie perched at his neck with aligned precision. One look at the man caused Melinda to rub the scuffed toe of her shoe against the back of her stocking.

His eyeglasses rested on the tip of his beaklike nose. Though she'd never before noticed, everything about Mr. Zimmerman was long and angular, even his fingers. He tapped one of the bony appendages on the piece of paper. “I have a matter of importance to discuss with you, Miss Colson. One that I hope will benefit you as well as the entire membership of the Bridal Veil consortium.”

She waited, uncertain if he expected a reply. The movement in her stomach changed from jiggling to whirring. An image of the biscuits and sausage gravy she'd eaten for breakfast flashed through her mind. She touched her fingers to her mouth and swallowed hard. If she lost her breakfast and stained the Aubusson carpet in Mr. Zimmerman's office, she would surely faint of embarrassment.

“We are expecting a record number of new guests this season.” He lifted his head and beamed at her. “And there has been no decline in the number of returning guests. It should prove a banner year for us.”

She bobbed her head. “I was pleased to hear your report at the Christmas dinner. I'm sure Mr. Morley and the other investors will be very pleased.” She smiled in return, still not knowing what he wanted.

He folded his hands and rotated his chair back and forth. “As you may know, I work at another resort during the summer months. The Sagamore, located in the Adirondacks in New York. You may be familiar?” His dark eyebrows arched high above his eyes.

“I've heard some of the ladies speak of visiting the Adirondacks during the summer months, but I'm not personally familiar with the area.”

Like a preening bird, he inched his neck to new heights. If he'd had plumage instead of his shiny black hair, he likely would have fluttered and spread his feathers into a giant colorful fan. Melinda tightened her lips to keep from smiling at the thought.

“Suffice it to say that the Sagamore is beyond lovely—not that Bridal Veil isn't one day going to be comparable or surpass some of the other resorts. However, in order to do so, we must make certain our guests are provided every possible amenity.” He picked up a pencil and tapped it on the piece of paper.

“Yes, of course. And I believe everyone has been working very hard toward that end.” Did he think the maids were slacking with their work? Why didn't he simply tell her why he'd called her into his office? “Has there been some complaint about our efforts?”

“No, quite the contrary. But as I was saying, we need to find additional ways to keep our guests occupied. We need to provide them with new and innovative experiences during their visits.”

Her thoughts raced as she attempted to understand what he was leading to. “I believe the racetrack and the new putting greens will help in that regard, don't you?”

“Yes, but it's the women I am considering at this particular moment. While there are some who might enjoy the horse races, I think there are many who will find themselves with additional time—time that will need to be occupied so they don't become unhappy.” He leaned across the desk and pointed the pencil in Melinda's direction. “That is where you come in, Miss Colson.”

“Me? How so?” Her heart skipped a beat.

“While I was at the Sagamore, they implemented the position of a ‘leisure activities manager' to coordinate activities for the women and children during times when their husbands were off hunting or fishing, as well as arrange dances and small parties during the evenings. You, Miss Colson, are the perfect person for that position.”

“A leisure activities manager?” Melinda's hand went to her mouth to suppress a squeal of pure pleasure. Such a position would mean she'd have a permanent home on the island. She wouldn't have to be away from Evan.

“What would such a job entail, and why do you think I would be perfect for the position, Mr. Zimmerman?” Her stomach churned as she thought of Mrs. Mifflin's warning. What if her former employers arrived and created a terrible scene. The humiliation would be horrid.

“You possess the education, poise, and natural beauty to interact with the guests in a way that will put them at ease. I'm aware of your background, Miss Colson. The first year you accompanied Mrs. Mifflin, she told me of the tragic death of your parents and how she'd offered you a position after learning of their financial woes. Of course, that isn't what's important at the moment. Right now, it is of great value that you are better educated than many of the ladies, and that you know how to conduct yourself in society.”

Melinda held up her hand. She needed to stop this discussion before it went any further. “You need to know that I didn't leave my employment with the Mifflins under the best of circumstances. I was worried about . . . I needed to know that . . . Well, what I'm trying to say is that if I accept this position, I think Mr. and Mrs. Mifflin will be extremely unhappy.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “You don't need to worry about Dorothea and Cyrus Mifflin. Mr. Morley has resolved that situation in its entirety, and they will not object.”

“But how did you—”

“There is very little we don't know about our employees, Miss Colson. Especially those we consider valuable to the operation of Bridal Veil. When I saw how well you worked at the menial labor tasks, I knew you would be perfect. Suffice it to say, the matter is resolved, and the Mifflins wish you well in this new endeavor.”

“Oh, I don't know what to say.” She couldn't keep from smiling. “That's good news indeed, but I'm still uncertain about the position and if I am qualified.”

“You are more than qualified. You'll have an office here in the clubhouse, and you will arrange and coordinate plans and appointments for guests to rent paddleboats, go horseback riding, play tennis, or participate in polo matches. For activities that require horses, you will coordinate with Garrison O'Sullivan or his staff. In addition, we want you to work with the chefs to plan special teas, birthday parties, bridal parties—the list goes on. Part of the position will be for you to come up with some unique ideas of entertainment for our guests.”

Now that she knew the Mifflins wouldn't object and she'd heard some of the requirements, Melinda's excitement mounted. “Perhaps some of the guests would enjoy special river cruises or scavenger hunts. Or even a masquerade or costume ball.”

Mr. Zimmerman jotted down her comments. “I knew you would be the perfect choice. I like all of those ideas, Miss Colson. We're going to be expanding the putting greens so that guests can enjoy a full golf course. Evan and Harland are going to be quite busy during the season.”

She wanted to say they'd already been quite busy during the off-season but decided she'd best remain silent. Not only would Evan be expected to oversee construction of the new golf course, but once the guests arrived, he'd be required to take the men out on hunts and conduct all of his previous tasks, all for the same pay. Somehow, it didn't seem right. As far as Melinda was concerned, this meant only one thing: Evan would have less time for her during the coming months. She tried to cheer herself with the thought that if she accepted this new position, she would be busy, as well.

“I'm planning to have your office in the alcove off the main entry by the grand staircase.”

She gasped in surprise. “My own office?”

“Indeed. This will make you readily accessible to the guests. I've already arranged for a small desk and a chair that will fit nicely. You'll need appointment books, ledgers, and a variety of other supplies. You'll receive a budget and an account so that items may be purchased for teas and so forth.” He leaned forward. “Of course, those costs will then be charged to the guests, but we can go over those matters as you begin to book events.”

She listened carefully to his talk of budgets, ledgers, and supplies, but there had been no mention of her wages. Surely he would increase her pay. She had no idea how the supervisor might react if she mentioned money, but if she planned to accept the position, she should know the pay. And she should exhibit the ability to speak up about such things, shouldn't she? “You haven't mentioned the wages for this new position, Mr. Zimmerman. I assume that I'll receive more than my current wages.”

He chuckled and rubbed his hands together. “I knew I'd selected the right person for this position. Before I brought you in here, I argued with myself about whether you'd have the courage to speak up and ask about your pay.”

“And what did you decide?”

“I decided you would ask about the pay before you accepted the position.” He grinned and his thin face wrinkled like a dried apple. “And though you've expressed interest in the job, I didn't fail to note that you've not yet accepted my offer.” He inhaled a deep breath. “We will triple your current wages for the first month. If your performance is as good as we all expect, your pay will be further increased and you will be moved to a small apartment of your own. The board of investors will decide the amount of your wages, which will be based on the job you do.”

“In that case, I accept the position, Mr. Zimmerman.” Triple her current wages was more than Melinda had anticipated. She'd be making as much as when she'd been employed by the Mifflins. Of course, she wouldn't have the extra benefits such as hand-me-down clothing—and clothing would be an important part of her position. Then again, if she wore a uniform of some sort, she wouldn't be required to concern herself with clothing. “What about my attire? Will I wear a uniform of sorts, or am I expected to wear dresses that will integrate well with the guests?”

Mr. Zimmerman tugged one end of his mustache. “I hadn't given that any particular thought. I believe we could have a seamstress over in Biscayne create skirts and shirtwaists that would be appropriate for days in the office. When you are directing more formal functions for the ladies, it might be preferable to wear something more formal.” He peered over his wire-rimmed glasses. “Would that be a possibility?”

“I do have some dresses I've refashioned, ones that previously belonged to Mrs. Mifflin. If you think it would be appropriate, I could wear those gowns when necessary.” Melinda hoped she wouldn't be required to wear one of the gowns in Mrs. Mifflin's presence, for the older woman would likely make embarrassing comments in front of the other guests.

“To be honest, I'm not certain I'm qualified to make this decision. I'll speak to Mr. Morley and he'll seek advice from his wife. For the present, I believe you should plan on the skirts and shirtwaists. When you go to Biscayne, you can make arrangements with a seamstress, and have her bill sent here to my attention.” The clock in the hallway chimed, and Mr. Zimmerman pushed up from his desk. “Why don't we take a look at the space for your office. That way you'll have a better idea of anything you might need to purchase.”

Melinda and Mr. Zimmerman strode toward the front of the hotel. Melinda hadn't previously taken much note of the small alcove, but the supervisor was correct. It provided the perfect spot for an office. She would be immediately accessible to guests when they entered or prepared to depart the hotel. The location would prove beneficial to her as well as to the guests.

Her back was turned when Emma approached and stepped to her side. “Is there something amiss? Did the first-floor maid forget to clean the alcove?”

Mr. Zimmerman shook his head. “Everything is fine, Emma. Miss Colson is inspecting her new office. She's accepted a position as our leisure activities manager, so that means you'll need to hire another maid.”

Melinda met Emma's surprised expression. “I have a permanent job, right here.”

Emma rested her fist on one hip and grinned. “Well, glad I am to hear ya've hired this lass for something better than cleaning rooms. Ya've made a good choice, for sure.” Emma tapped the side of her head with a finger. “Melinda's got lots of brains, she does, and she'll do a good job for ya.”

The supervisor patted Emma's shoulder and chuckled. “I'm sure the investors will be pleased to hear you approve, Emma.”

“Oh, go on with ya, Mr. Zimmerman. We both know they don't care what I think, but sometimes even the likes of me knows when things is being done right.” She waved toward Mr. Zimmerman's office. “I was coming by to tell ya that I'm going over to Biscayne this afternoon and to see if there was anything you'd be needin'.”

“Nothing I can think of at the moment. But Miss Colson has quite a list of things to purchase, so she might want to accompany you.” He turned toward Melinda. “What do you say, Miss Colson? Are you ready to begin purchasing the items you'll need for your new position?”