“This is an entirely different animal.” Mrs. Haines’s mouth barely moved when she spoke, as if she had problems with her teeth. “I worked at the Hubert Home Club for the past three years, and I assure you, managing an apartment house is quite a lot more work. My duties will include checking in guests and calling up to the owners to grant them permission to visit, as I did there. A gatekeeper, if you will, to keep out the riffraff. The switchboard shall be my domain.”
“Will you both be residing here at the Dakota?”
Mrs. Haines nodded. “We are moving in today, on the ninth floor.”
“Yes, our rooms are right around the corner from each other,” offered Daisy, looking pleased.
Mrs. Haines didn’t bother to mask her disappointment at the arrangement. The two women were unlikely to become bosom friends, but with luck they’d learn to work together.
The front bell rang and Mrs. Haines sprung up. “I’d like to get started, if that’s all right with you.”
Sara dismissed them, but Daisy turned back in the doorway. “Mrs. Smythe, is it true you came from London?”
“Yes, yes, I did.”
“That’s a long way.”
“Indeed.”
“I hate to speak out of turn, but Mrs. Haines told me she’d thought she would get your job when it came open. You might have your hands full with that one.”
Sara would not tolerate gossip.
“I’m certain Mrs. Haines and I will manage just fine,” she said. “I treat every member of my staff with respect and expect the same treatment in return. Which means that, in the future, Daisy, you need only inform me of matters that pertain directly to you or your duties.”
“Of course, ma’am.” Daisy bit her lip.
Sara did not regret chiding the girl; it was important to establish boundaries from the first. Still, she did not want Daisy to think her cruel or cold. It would be nice to have a friend in this peculiar place.
“Speaking of duties, I’m drowning in all of these papers.” Sara held up a thick stack of bills in each hand and offered Daisy a wry smile. “I’d surely love your help running through them. Do you mind pitching in?”
Daisy’s face brightened. “Of course not, Mrs. Smythe. Can I get you a cup of tea before we dive to the bottom?”
“That would be lovely, and fetch one for yourself as well.”
They made great progress in a short period of time. While Daisy focused on the invoices and began entering them in the ledger, Sara looked over the staff list the girl had found, miraculously, under the desk. In the few minutes before the tolling of the hour, they heard the employees shuffling in through the reception area.
“We should go.” Sara took a deep breath.
She led the way into the dining room, which was packed with men and women of all ages and sizes, from the mischievous-looking messenger boys to the resident laundress, easily recognizable by her chapped, red hands. Everyone stood, careful not to touch the walls or the silk-covered dining room chairs. She was glad they were meeting in this room, which held an awe-inspiring grandeur. Here she had some sway. Or so she hoped.
Mr. Camden loped in, nodding his head and weaving his way through the crowd. Sara noticed Daisy give a quick intake of breath. The man had a rough elegance about him, an unlikely combination.
“Thank you all for assembling,” he said. “I am Mr. Camden, part of the architectural team here. As a future tenant, I’ve also been put in charge of getting the place up and running, along with Mrs. Smythe, the resident managerette.” He gestured in her direction. “We are here to provide our tenants with the sense that they’re not living in an apartment house but instead in a mansion of their own, with everything they could possibly want at their very fingertips. My boss, Mr. Henry Hardenbergh, has created one of the most modern buildings in New York City. We open on October twenty-seventh. That’s very little time, and we will require your utmost attention and assistance.
“I’d like to turn the meeting over to Mrs. Smythe. Mrs. Smythe hails from London, where she worked at the grand Langham Hotel.”
The abrupt introduction threw her. Sweat beaded beneath her chemise and she was glad for the many layers that hid the signs of her terror. She should have been one of the women staring back at her now, expectant, wary, hoping to please.
She took a deep breath and surveyed the room, lifting up one eyebrow and lowering her chin just a bit, exactly as her mother used to do when passing a group of gossiping women in the village. She spotted Fitzroy, holding his cap in his hands, the one recognizable face.
“I am delighted to meet you and look forward to getting to know each and every one of you. As Mr. Camden has said, we are taking ownership of a flagship building, one that will be talked about by the citizens of New York City for years to come. It is under our control, each and every one of us, to make this a building that is admired and whose tenants are envied. The structure may be made of stone and wood, but you will be its heart. We must all do our jobs with pride, and work together.
“I’d like the heads of each department to see Miss Cavanaugh and make an appointment to meet with me in the next two days. From there, we will be able to devise a working schedule and goals and approach opening day with confidence.”
She turned to Mr. Camden. There really wasn’t much else to say.
He threw her a quick smile. “Well done,” he murmured under his breath. “Not only do you save little girls, you are a force to be reckoned with. I knew my instincts were good when it came to you.”
Then he was gone, leaving her enveloped in a crush of voices and questions.
CHAPTER SIX
New York City, September 1985
Bailey had risen only halfway from the booth before Melinda wrapped her in her skinny arms, her jangly necklace digging into Bailey’s neck.
“I missed you so much,” she said, “and I’ve been thinking about you nonstop, you naughty girl.” The words were flip, but the embrace was genuine and fierce.
They finally untangled and Melinda sat in her seat, swishing her long hair back from each shoulder and tightening the scrunchie at the very top of her head, where a section of hair fanned out like a whale spout. The zipper on her jumpsuit revealed a plump cushion of tanned cleavage. “I should have visited you, I’m so sorry about that. You know I wanted to.”
“Please, I didn’t want any visitors. I had to work on myself.” More twelve-step jargon. Funny how sometimes that was the only way to explain it.
“I’m so glad you did. I heard that Tristan took care of the cost, is that right?”
“He did.” She couldn’t help but cringe, thinking of their conversation this morning.