Carver braced himself as the train halted in the station in New Orleans. It had been four excruciatingly long days since she disappeared and with each passing day, his feelings over how he had left things with Sophia worsened. He wished he could protest Prescott’s order against Carver’s searching for Sophia, but what could he say? He had delayed returning to New Orleans by two days in his attempts to convince Prescott, but what claim did he have over Sophia to insist that he be allowed to investigate into her disappearance?
He could kick himself for not confessing the depth of his growing affection for her. Perhaps he could have convinced her to stay. He raked his hand through his hair, but to confess feelings of love after only a few weeks together? How was that any better than Prescott’s proposing marriage after only paying court to her a few times?
Carver hopped off the train in New Orleans, his heart skipping when he spied a young lady who held herself in the same manner as Sophia. Leaving his belongings on the platform, he bolted after her. “Sophia? Sophia!” He darted around the crowded station and snatched her wrist, turning her to him and was met with a scream and a slap.
Carver released the lady who was certainly not Sophia, apologizing profusely for the confusion and made himself scarce before the police could be called. Snatching up his satchel and directing a luggage cart where to take his trunks, Carver wove through the streets of New Orleans toward his office on the dock. He didn’t know how he was going to concentrate with Sophia having disappeared, but he knew that if he did not keep busy, he’d lose his mind to worry. If only she had let him know where she was going. He sighed, knowing that if she had, he would have taken the first train out to wherever she was hiding and return her to safety.
He greeted the dockworkers he knew in passing, who probably hadn’t noticed he was out of office with Jimmy, his assistant, running things in Carver’s absence. Reaching the shipping office of Payne & Fairfield, which was little more than a glorified shack on the docks, he swung open the pine plank door, inhaling the scent of coffee that permeated the plain wooden building with its constantly being brewed. But the thought of coffee reminded him of the lady who unabashedly admitted that she drank two cups each day. Sighing, he poured himself a cup and sank into the wooden chair behind his modest desk that was piled high with sorted, opened missives, listening to Jimmy list all the happenings since Carver’s departure to Charleston.
The door burst open and the young errand boy they employed waved a stack of letters overhead. “Telegram for Mr. Ashton and the post.”
He snatched up the telegram, thinking it might hold information about Sophia, but tossed it aside as it was merely Prescott telling him of another inbound shipment. The man was always meddling, and Carver was growing weary of never truly having a say. In this, he and Sophia were the same. He shook his head. He couldn’t do anything without thinking of her fair face.
Riffling through the post and its many advertisements, his gaze fell upon a letter in a feminine hand. His fingers shook as he lifted it. He didn’t dare hope, but who else could it be from but Sophia? He broke the seal, his heart stumbling at her thanks, hoping for more as he read her final lines.
I wish things could have been different. I do not know if we will see each other again, but I will treasure the memories of our time together for as Tennyson wrote, “What is there in the great sphere of the earth, and range of evil between death and birth, that I should fear—if I were loved by thee?” If our worlds had collided in any other fashion, I would have been yours forever. However, it was not meant to be, and I believe I shall be quite content in my new position.
Fondly, Sophia.
He sank back into his chair, wishing he had offered her more than a vague declaration. He should have offered her his hand. He should have assured her his love was stronger than any gossip. He flipped over the envelope, searching for an address, but only found the postmark, the city’s name smudged so much that he could only make out the Las part, but the state was there in plain ink. New Mexico. He ran his finger over the marking and stuffed the envelop into his pocket. If he knew anything about Prescott, he would have his Pinkerton agents searching everywhere for any clue.
He looked about the cramped office for new faces and saw only the weary men he had been working with for years. Sophia had taken her future into her hands. Maybe he should finally do the same. With his life’s savings, he had the means to purchase a small store and eventually, with the profits brought in by the first year, he could gradually build his kingdom and have something to offer Sophia—have a place of their own far away from any Charleston scandal that might follow upon the news of a stepson marrying his stepfather’s intended.
But first, I have to find her and convince her that I was not trifling with her. He shot to his feet and snatched his hat off the coat rack with the letter burning in his pocket. He could not trust anyone he hired to keep her location secret, not with his stepfather’s deep pockets. But as Carver’s bags were still packed, they would stay that way until he had visited every stop in New Mexico that began with the name Las.
* * *
Sophia spread another fresh linen over one of Harriet’s tables and proceeded to place the dishes, glasses, coffee cups, napkins, and silverware in their proper places as she had been doing for the past half hour.
“The meals rotate every four days,” Harriet continued her monotone lecture, dropping the menu onto the tablecloth in front of Sophia. “Memorize the menu before the first train arrives in thirty minutes. Meals cost seventy-five cents in the dining room, but only twenty-five cents at the lunch counter and any money left at your station will be considered your tip, but for now, any tips left at the station will be shared between you and I.” She paused as if waiting for Sophia to disagree with her.
Sophia nodded to dissuade any argument. “That’s a fair arrangement until I am fully trained.”
Harriet’s pursed lips relaxed into almost a smile with this concession. “Your first train will be arriving soon, so it is imperative you keep the rules in the forefront of your mind. And remember, in front of the guests, you are to address me as Miss Harriet. We are less formal in our addresses toward one another because we wish to appear friendly to our guests, but not familiar so as to encourage any vulgar behavior. Speaking of which. . .” She leaned forward and inspected Sophia’s face. “Are you wearing rouge?”
“What? No!” Sophia gasped, thinking of her mother’s reaction if she ever did so.
“You are excessively flushed then. Just so you are aware, we’re not permitted to wear any makeup. Men will think you mean to offer more than just your waitressing services if you try to enhance your appearance in any form with cosmetics. Any deviance from this rule and—”
“I’ll be dismissed?” Sophia guessed.
Harriet shrugged and moved to the counter, pouring them each a glass of water. “I know it sounds harsh, but Mr. Harvey’s rules are meant to protect us.”
Even though Sophia had enough money hidden away to support herself for a year if she budgeted and some jewels she could sell for even more funds, she well recognized the value of having the protective arm of Fred Harvey and the housemother sheltering her reputation. She had always bent to her father’s will.
The only difference was that now, she was getting paid and could leave whenever she wished, but she was now a working girl with a good, honorable position and she would do what it took to keep it. She finished her glass and began memorizing the menu as Harriet finished setting up for their guests.
“I should have allowed the girls from the night shift to set up the station last night like they usually do, but Miss Trent wanted me to give you more experience,” Harriet explained, turning on her heel for the linen closet.
Nora finished up her table and joined Sophia in the placing of the cups, whispering, “You’ll get used to her rather militant ways.”
“Militant? She is only explaining how things are done.”
Nora laughed softly. “Wait until the first train comes into the station. Harriet treats feeding passengers like it’s life and death and if you make a mistake, Lord help you. But as you said yesterday, the Harvey system is like a dance, so once you get the hang of it, you’ll perform it beautifully.”
“Unfortunately, it is a dance you have yet to learn, Sophia.” Harriet interjected, setting her armful of fresh table linens atop an empty table. “As you know, the guests wire ahead what they will have, but we still have to take down their order so we know which guest ordered what meal. Stand directly behind me at all times, taking down the orders. We cannot have the guests complaining of a less than perfect dining experience.” She turned to Nora. “Could you help us finish setting the rest of the tables? I am afraid we won’t finish in time. I got too caught up in my instruction, I’m afraid.”
“Of course.” Nora flew into action alongside Sophia arranging chairs, correcting positions of silverware and cups as the gong sounded.
“Blast. Is it time already?” Harriet ran her fingers over the final table linen, aligned a knife, and straightened her apron. “At your stations, girls!”
Sophia stood stiffly beside Harriet, hands clutched in front of her skirts. Her feet were already aching, and she hadn’t even served a single guest. How does Belle accomplish all her chores with three sets of stairs? “Where are the guests?”
“The first gong is to let us know that the train has arrived at the station and for us to finish the last bits of preparations and get to our positions. The gong is then taken to the station by the general manager, Mr. Carlton, and you, being a guest recently, know the rest with the timing of the four warnings.”
“So many times?” Sophia murmured, only remembering two out the four gongs yesterday at mealtime. I was famished and not anxiously awaiting to reboard the train though.
“Fred Harvey wants his guests to enjoy their meals, but not so much as to let time slip away from them and then they miss their trains,” Harriet whispered as the front doors swung open and in stepped the broad-shouldered Mr. Carlton with a troupe of ravenous passengers following closely behind.
Sophia’s pulse pounded in her ears. This was it. Her next step toward her future. She could not fail.
The dusty guests piled through the doors, all with hungry, expectant expressions. Harriet leaned toward Sophia and whispered, “You remember the cup system from last night’s dinner, yes? Usually, three girls wait on three stations at a time, and we split the tasks to serve the guests faster.”
Sophia nodded. That’s one thing that I managed to remember. Cup up is coffee, or is it cup down? She bit her lip. Oh no.
“Good. Then, I’ll let you take the drink orders and Jenny will come behind you and fill the drinks while I see which guest ordered which meal.”
Sophia nodded numbly, the responsibility that rested with the cup code pressing upon her shoulders as her head spun with the information Harriet had doused upon her.
“Smile and greet the guests,” Harriet hissed through a gritted teeth smile.
Attempting to disguise her stress, Sophia smiled her greeting to each of the guests as they took their seats. She stepped toward the guest seated at the nearest corner. “Good morning, sir. May I take your drink order?”
“Coffee.” He grunted, his fingertips thrumming against the clean linen.
Sophia looked at the cup in the saucer. Cup up? Oh, or is it cup down? She felt Harriet’s eyes burning into the back of her neck and she decided to chance it. Leaving the cup upright, she moved on to the next guest. Harriet did not say a word. Guessed right! “Beverage, ma’am?”
“Tea, please. The train had the most vial, unnatural tasting tea that if I don’t wash it down with real tea, I might perish.” The woman shuddered, dabbing her handkerchief to her forehead, her graying curls trembling about her face.
Sophia smiled. “Having recently experienced the tea on the train ride here, I completely understand. Our tea will not disappoint.” She flipped the cup upside down in its saucer. She moved around the table to each guest as Jenny came directly behind her and poured the correct beverages. Finished with the beverage orders, Sophia stood behind Harriet.
“Excellent work, Miss Sophia,” she whispered and stepped forward, deftly jotting down each order.
Sophia felt rather ridiculous writing down the same order on her own notepad, but she didn’t dare question the Harvey House methods.
“My stomach has decided that it would benefit more from soup than salad,” an elderly woman informed Harriet. “Please adjust my original order to your tomato soup. Is that possible?”
“Of course, no problem at all.” Harriet handed the list to Sophia as they headed to the kitchen. “Help me take the trays and distribute the food,” she called to Sophia over the clamoring of pots, pans, and dishes being filled and placed on trays. She paused beside a station laden with prepared food. “Six salads and twelve soups.” Her voice rang out above the noise.
The chef nodded and his assistants rapidly filled two trays with the order as Harriet continued her instructions to Sophia as the next Harvey Girl placed her order.
Harriet nudged Sophia with her hip and nodded to the station where Sophia’s order pad lay. “Do not misplace your list because it has the seating arrangement as well as their main course orders.” She picked up the soup tray. “Thank you, Pierre!”
“Thank you, sir!” Sophia added, picking up her note pad and the salad tray, following the head waitress out of the busy kitchen, holding her breath intermittently, lest she drop the heavy tray as she maneuvered through the swinging doors. She set her salad tray on the serving counter next to Harriet’s in the dining hall and exhaled. She retrieved the list from her apron pocket, and they studied it together.
“I’ll get this half and you get the others,” Harriet stated, picking up two dishes, a salad and a soup.
Sophia carefully balanced two soups and placed them in front of the appropriate guests and then, taking a second glance at the list, she grabbed a salad and a soup from the trays and placed them where she thought they were supposed to go.
“I just finished asking for a soup instead of a salad! She said it wouldn’t be a problem.” The lady gasped, looking around for Harriet. “You there!”
Harriet’s cheeks flamed as she acquired a bowl of soup from the tray on the counter and swapped it out with the salad. “I’m so sorry, ma’am. This is her first day.”
“I don’t care if she is new, she is trying to spoil my stomach’s delicate constitution and I will write Fred Harvey to tell him that his staff are incompetent!” She proclaimed, banging her fist on the table and making the china clatter.
“Please accept my apologies on behalf of Fred Harvey and enjoy this meal free of charge for your trouble, ma’am,” Harriet replied.
She sniffed and dipped her spoon into her soup. “Humph. Do I get an extra piece of pie?”
“Absolutely. In fact, I’ll have the chef make up a box for you for a whole pie to take on your travels.”
“I suppose, in that case, I will not write Mr. Harvey.” She nodded to Harriet, setting her sparkling ear drops swinging. “Thank you for remedying the situation. You might want to train that one a little more.” She pointed to Sophia with her full spoon, the soup dripping into her cup of tea.
Was this how Sophia’s family treated their servants? Like they were disposable and lacking wit?
“Absolutely, ma’am. At the Harvey House, satisfaction is guaranteed. We won’t stop until we reach perfection.” Harriet turned from the table long enough to give Sophia a wink as Sophia straightened her shoulders and swapped out the lady’s tea without a word, lest the woman accuse her of telling a falsehood over the quality of the tea.
The rest of the afternoon went along without a hitch, but the tension in Harriet’s shoulders didn’t seem to lessen until the last guest had departed.
Harriet pressed her hands to her lower back and stretched. “I’m so sorry about that Sophia, but Fred Harvey does not put up with incompetence and our guests know it. Only last week, I fired a girl who failed to execute the cup system correctly on multiple occasions. Since you are new and haven’t even been trained, we will, of course, be more understanding, but you’ll have to be reprimanded for your mistake with the salad earlier.” Harriet motioned toward the tables. “Clean every dish at our station and dress the tables.”
Sophia blinked at the pile of dessert dishes, used cups, and cutlery atop the soiled linen. “But isn’t there a boy just for the dish washing?” She had seen him in the kitchen herself, working away at the mountains of dishes. What was his name? William?
“We do, but today you are going to wash your own dishes.” Harriet folded her hands before her pristine apron. “I think it is better than me marking you up without giving you a chance to remedy the situation. Don’t you agree?”
“If she is left alone to do all those chores, she will barely get a moment to take lunch before the next train,” Jenny called on her way through to the kitchen.
“Well, then, I guess it’s a good thing that you will be helping her,” Miss Trent interjected from the dining room threshold, narrowing her eyes.
“Good thing,” Jenny sighed.
“I am so sorry you got pulled into this,” Sophia whispered to Jenny as Harriet explained the situation to the dish boy, who sent Sophia a sympathetic smile.
“I should have known better than to contradict Harriet when Miss Trent might be nearby. She’s kind, but will stand no argument as to whom is the commander of the dining room,” Jenny muttered as they headed to the dish washing station.
As there was room at the station for four workers, William silently continued his mountain of dishes at the furthest end. Closing her eyes, Sophia plunged her hands into the hot water, scrubbing the dishes and attempting to ignore the sting of the harsh soap and focus on conquering the mountain on the counter. “What happens if I break a piece of china while cleaning?”
“Most of the time, the Harvey Houses will list that as a company expense, Miss.” William interjected from his station, his ears reddening as if embarrassed that he spoke up.
Something horrid flowed through her fingers as bits of food bobbed in the water. Sophia grimaced, thinking of the rancher who sneezed into his food four times. The food he sneezed on is probably floating around in these suds. She refrained from drawing her hands from the water and giving them a scrub in the fresh scalding hot water. Don’t think, just wash.
A strangled laugh made her glance toward William, who must have seen her grimace.
She had finished scrubbing the fourth mound when Harriet barged through the kitchen doors. “The train will be here soon, and your tables aren’t even set! Leave the dishes to soak for the dish boy and hop to it!” She grimaced at the sight of Sophia’s apron and hurried out the door. “Change first, ladies.”
“Sorry, William. Looks like the rest are all yours.” Jenny moaned as she straightened her back and fumbled with her apron strings.
“It’s my job, Miss.” The shy boy grinned at them both and ducked his head, setting to scrubbing with even more vigor than before, no doubt aware of the dishes about to fill his station once more.
Jenny linked her arm through Sophia’s. “At least we don’t have to do any more dishes. Do me a favor and fetch me an apron from the dormitory as well, will you?”
Sophia nodded and smiled back at her new friend before hurrying upstairs. She snatched a fresh apron out of her side of the closet and hurried into Jenny’s room down the hall. She could easily tell which was Jenny’s side of the room as there was a small shelf, bursting with titles. Suppressing the need to read through them, she snagged a clean apron, taking the stairs as fast as she could without slipping, shaking the aprons out for scorpions as she raced. She slowed only when she reached the kitchen, keeping an eye out for Pierre and his assistants’ hot pots and pans. Sophia passed Jenny’s apron to her, tying her own as they hurried out into the already filling dining room, but at a glance at the tables revealed that Harriet and Jenny had successfully reset the tables without her.
Harriet rustled to Sophia’s side and whispered, “Millie is supposed to be working the lunch counter with Fannie, but she has a stomachache and can’t even stand at the moment, so I’m going to need you to support Fannie. Can you handle that?”
I surely hope so. “Of course.” Sophia hoped she sounded more confident than she felt, but as Harriet turned away, she must have believed her. She darted behind the lunch counter, smiling at Fannie.
“Thank the good Lord. Reinforcements.” Fannie gave Sophia’s hand a quick squeeze. “As it is the cheapest option, the lunch counter is almost never empty. Instead of having the luxury of having the food prepared ahead of time, the men will order from the menu as they take a seat, but most of the men already know what they want as they are regulars. When you get their order, you just need to poke your head through the kitchen door and shout out the order.” She pointed to the main kitchen door directly to the right of the counter.
“I don’t need a ticket?”
She shook her head. “The staff will be listening for your orders. Also, the men here go through an unbelievable amount of coffee. I have no idea how they could ever drink so much coffee and not set their teeth to chattering out of their heads, but you need to fill the coffee urn pitcher by pitcher whenever you catch a moment’s breath.” Fannie patted her hair and took a deep breath. “Even though the lunch counter is the worst shift, you must never appear frazzled. A Harvey Girl is to always be fresh-faced and smiling but be careful not to smile too much. Be friendly, but not familiar,” she instructed quietly. “I hope that’s not too much information all at once?”
Sophia giggled. “Harriet gave me quite the introduction this morning, so she has well prepared me.”
“She does tend to be quite thorough.” She laughed and patted Sophia’s arm, handing her a notepad. “I’m sure you will do marvelously. Just don’t accept the first proposal you hear.” She winked at her and then folded her hands in front of her skirt with her own notepad in hand as the first batch of men clamored into their seats at the counter.
“Mr. Harris, would you like your usual?” Fannie smiled her greeting to the scruffy old man.
He nodded. “Miss Fannie, you know I always want my steak and potatoes.”
She tilted her head to Sophia. “Place an order for one medium rare steak and mashed potatoes with a slice of apple pie for dessert.” She poured Mr. Harris a cup of coffee and moved on to the next guest.
Sophia poked her head through the kitchen door, the heat from the ovens greeting her as the staff manned the stoves, chopped vegetables, and filled orders. “One, um, rare steak, mashed potatoes, and apple pie!” She called out, almost embarrassed to raise her voice so high.
“What? Speak up girl!” The chef bellowed.
Sophia cleared her throat and repeated her order as loud as she dared.
“Got it!” One of the assistants called back and Sophia ducked out of the kitchen and back to the counter, nearly avoiding crashing into Harriet.
“Watch where you are going!” She scowled. “Good thing I am only coming in with an order ticket and not a tray full of messy soup bowls. They’d be all over the floor and you’d be out of a job.”
“Sorry!” Sophia called over her shoulder, too much in a rush to stop to listen to her lecture. I’ll probably get in trouble for that later too.
“There you are.” Fannie gave her a strained smile. “I need you to take care of the gentlemen on the right side of the counter. I haven’t been able to get their orders yet.”
Sophia grabbed her notepad and pencil from her apron pocket and paused before the giant cowboy perched on the lunch stool. “May I take your order, sir?”
The man’s wide, yellow grin displayed a missing front tooth. “Are you on the menu?”
Sophia blushed to the roots of her hair, and overhearing his comment, Fannie stepped in front of her, the silver-plated coffee pot in hand.
“Mr. Gessler, I know you are not new to our establishment, so allow me to remind you that we Harvey Girls are ladies and shall be treated as such. If you do not conduct yourself in a manner worthy of a gentleman, you’ll be requested to depart by the general manager, Mr. Carlton, a former blacksmith. I’m certain you do not wish to cross him.” Fannie narrowed her gaze at the fellow, her fist on her hip and the steaming coffee pot hovering beyond his cup to his lap.
“No, Miss. Sorry, Miss,” Mr. Gessler mumbled, turning his attention back to his empty cup.
“Good. Consider this your warning.” She filled his cup and turned to Sophia. “Do you want me to finish the order?”
“I can do it. If I need help, I’ll ask Mr. Carlton. Thank you.”
Fannie nodded and returned to refilling the men’s coffee.
“Do you know what you would like, sir?”
He rambled off his order. “Ham sandwich with the candied potatoes and chocolate pudding for dessert and coffee.”
Sophia didn’t even bother jotting it down and poked her head into the kitchen and shouted the order, feeling a bit wild allowing her voice such a range. Mother would have a fit. She couldn’t help but grin at the thought.
After that first encounter, the rest of the men were quite nice, albeit a bit flirty, but the day passed in a blur, time only slowing as her feet continued to swell in her fine leather shoes that were never meant for more than a brief stroll.
“Well, your first shift is over,” Harriet announced at six of the clock. “Fannie, thank you for taking over in teaching Sophia how to work the counter. Sophia, I was keeping an eye on you today and I must say, while I do see potential in you, you need to become faster.” She handed her a piece of paper from her note pad. “I made a few notes on ways you could become more efficient that I think you will find very beneficial.”
“Thank you.” Sophia’s feet burned. She shifted from foot to foot to keep the pain at bay, but nothing she could do would dull it. I’ve got to take these shoes off or the only way they are coming off my swollen feet is if they are cut off.
“But as it has been a long day and I want dinner and my bath, the lengthy explanation of the tips must wait until tomorrow.” Harriet pulled her apron strings with a groan.
Sophia sagged against the counter, using it as a crutch along with each chair back to the kitchen for dinner. Hard work was much harder than she had thought it would be.