“Telephone? Thanks for reminding me. This call is costing a fortune, I’m sure. Daddy will be even angrier that I spoke longer than a minute to you. Come home. You’re acting like a fool and a spoiled brat,” she said, and hung up.
The shock of hearing the click and the dead sound threw a chill over me as cold as a pail of ice water. I had been looking forward to hearing my mother’s voice and how I would comfort her and assure her I would be fine. For a moment, I simply stood in the phone booth holding the receiver. Then a man in an overcoat and a wide-brim hat knocked on the glass so hard I thought he’d shatter the glass all over me.
“Sorry,” I said, opening the door. He grunted. I stepped out quickly and passed him to hurry away. I seemed to be rushing away from everyone right after the moment I had arrived here. I thought I probably already looked like a New Yorker to anyone else who had just arrived. It wouldn’t have surprised me to have someone stop me to ask directions to somewhere in Manhattan.
When I reached the entrance to the restaurant, I paused and sucked in my breath the way I would just before I swam underwater. Then I walked in and stood there gazing at the booths, tables, and counter filled with patrons. There was some music vaguely audible over the clang of dishes and conversations. The walls were crowded with pictures of what I imagined were celebrities who had eaten here, spaced in between large photographs of New York City scenes, including the East and Hudson Rivers, as well as the Statue of Liberty.
By the authoritative manner in which Donald Manning came walking toward me the moment I entered the Last Diner, I knew it was he. He was a tall, lean, dark-brown-haired man with a thick dark-brown mustache. He was wearing a gray tie and a black sports jacket with charcoal-gray slacks. I didn’t think he was smiling so much as merely pressing his lips in tightly at the corners. I didn’t move or so much as grin, unsure of the greeting I was going to receive. I knew I wasn’t late, given the time I was told to appear the day after I had arrived, but I so desperately needed a bright welcome.
“Emma Corey?”
“Yes.”
He looked me over and nodded. I was afraid he was going to tell me there was no job for me after all. I knew I looked younger than eighteen, but he finally smiled. I released the air nervously trapped in my lungs.
“Billy gave me a good description. I can see why you won his heart,” he said, and leaned closer to add, “but he was always a softy for a pretty face.”
“I’m not just another pretty face,” I said, sounding a bit too indignant. It was not a good way to meet your boss for the first time, but there it was again, that part of my father in me, self-pride not afraid to reveal itself.
Donald Manning surprised me with a laugh. “No, I don’t imagine that’s all you are.” He stopped smiling. “Just know that New York is full of pretty faces. It’s no ticket to Broadway on its own, but I suspect Billy made you aware of that. You ever wait tables?”
“Only at home,” I said. “My sole job’s been behind a perfume and cologne counter at a department store in Guildford. And singing at a pub, of course.”
“Well, we’ll save your singing for your auditions. How’s your apartment?”
“It’s fine, sir. Thank you for what you’ve done. I’ll pay you back.”
He folded his arms across his narrow chest. “It wasn’t me. It was Billy Wollard who had all that set up for you. He sent me a money order, and I did what he asked. Not that I wouldn’t have done what he wanted anyway. He did me a lot of favors when we were classmates and studying music at Surrey.”
“You studied at Surrey?”
Just hearing the name of a school in Guildford brought me comfort.
“I spent a few years in the military, ended up living in the U.K., and enrolled in some courses because I thought I’d be the next Louis Armstrong.”
“So you play the trumpet?”
I had learned a while back that singers and musicians are more comfortable in the company of other singers and musicians. It was as if we all shared a secret.
“Haven’t for about ten years. It’s buried in a closet. I think I broke Billy’s heart more than my own when I gave it up. I got into the restaurant business over there first in London and then returned to sanity here.”
He nudged me out of the way of some incoming customers and then took on a more somber look.
“Now, I respect Billy’s opinion when it comes to you, but there are teachers like Billy all over this country who believe their protégés can make it on the Great White Way. I’ve had at least a dozen waiting tables here. None right now, however. They’re not the best employees. Their heads are in the clouds, and they don’t appreciate the work and what’s required of them. Billy thinks you will, says you come from a very respectable family where you were taught to be efficient, responsible, and you have a good work ethic. Since you’re the first he’s ever sent over here, I will take his word for it.”
“Thank you,” I said, but I could see he was all business, just as Mr. Abbot had warned.
“I hope you won’t let him and me down,” he cautioned.
“I won’t. I promise.”
“Hmm. New York’s full of promises, but the people making them don’t always fulfill them. Okay. Here’s the deal. I’ll pay you a dollar over minimum, but you make most of your money with tips. For the first two weeks, you’ll train with Marge Arnold over there,” he said, nodding toward an attractive blond woman who flashed smiles at the customers at her table as if they were long-lost friends. She was taller than me, with a figure that was struggling to survive the addition of years.
“Marge has no other ambition aside from dating and marrying a millionaire, so she’s the best to break you in. But I warn you, she’s serious about what she does and how it’s to be done. Just mimic her, and you’ll be fine. She’s doing me a favor by taking you under her wing.”
“I understand,” I said. Like my father, I hated accepting too many favors. He always thought of it as debt accumulating severe interest.
“It’s as simple as that,” he said, nodding and smiling at some customers coming into the restaurant before turning back to me. He looked serious again. “I know why you’re really here. I’ll let you go to any audition you want if you give me fair notice. You’ll be going to what they call open auditions until you get an agent.”
“I understand.”
“Yeah, well, they can take all morning. You’ll see the lines down the sidewalk sometimes. I’ve heard the complaints a thousand times from those employees trying to be the next hot item on Broadway, but you can make up the time by staying longer with your regular daily schedule. We’re open twenty-four hours, so you’ll always have time to compensate. You can even work on your day off. Got it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Call me Donald. I learned to hate the word ‘sir’ in the army. Go through the door to the kitchen, and take the door to your immediate left, where you’ll find a uniform that should fit. There’s a dozen or so hanging up there. There are lockers there, too. Just put your valuables in one with your clothes and take the key. Learn to lock everything up in New York. Thieves smell naivete.”