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from Mr. Cooper’s knife, and gathered her courage. “Mr. Cooper, where would I find Mr. Renshaw?”
    “In the manager’s office inside the main entrance if he’s on the property.”
    If? “Isn’t he here every day?”
    The cook paused and pinned Rebekah with a bemused look. “A live-in trustee runs the cave, Miss Hardin. No need for Renshaw to dally here all day.”
    “Oh.” Rebekah’s spirits sank. She chewed the inside of her lip. “Well, then, where would I find the trustee?”
    Mr. Cooper set his knife to work. “Likely selling tour tickets or checking in guests.” He smacked the batch of diced potatoes into the kettle, clunked the kettle onto the massive stove, and then glowered at Rebekah. “You thinking you’ll get more money for your mushrooms if you pester Mr. Renshaw or Mr. Janin? Because I can tell you I’ve got full rein over the kitchen. I do the buying of produce and such.”
    She gaped at him, stunned by his gruffness. Heat flooded her face, and she held one hand to him. “I don’t want to talk to somebody about my mushrooms. I need a job.”
    The stern lines in the man’s face relaxed. “A job?”
    Rebekah nodded. “Yes, sir. I appreciate you buying the mushrooms. I—I hope to keep selling them to you.” If she hadn’t insulted him so much he didn’t want them anymore. “But I need a way to make more money than I can with the mushrooms. Do you know if they’re hiring hotel maids or servers for the dining room?”
    Lyle returned with Rebekah’s basket, now empty. “Ten an’ a half pounds, Mr. Cooper.”
    The cook aimed a scowl at the young man. “With the basket or without?”
    “Without.”
    “That scale always weighs a little light. Let’s call it eleven pounds. Get Miss Hardin fifty-five cents.”
    “Yes, sir!” Lyle darted off again.
    Rebekah’s heart expanded. She must not have offended the cook after all. “Thank you.”
    Mr. Cooper shrugged. He dumped several peeled carrots onto the work surface. “That’s the least I can do, considering I have to tell you the only hiring Mr. Janin is doing right now is for a guide.”
    “You mean for the tours?”
    “What else would I mean?” He lined up the carrots and began turning the lengths into thin slices with smooth chops of the knife. “One of the longtime guides died a week ago, so they’ll need to replace him. But I don’t know of any other positions open here on the estate.”
    She hugged herself. After losing her only brother to the cave, she had no desire to lead others into those dark, cool caverns. But if no other position was available, she didn’t have any choice. “Do you know what the job pays?”
    Mr. Cooper’s hand stilled. He gawked at her for several seconds and then burst out laughing. “Miss Hardin, you can’t apply to be a guide.”
    “Why not?”
    Lyle sidled up and plopped two twenty-five-cent pieces and a nickel on the table. He grinned, too. “Guides are men.” His brazen gaze traveled across Rebekah’s skirt and upswept hair. “You’re not a man, that’s for sure.”
    “Get back to work.” At the cook’s brusque demand, Lyle trotted off. Mr. Cooper wiped his hand over his face, removing the glint of humor. “Lyle’s right. Only men take folks on the tours.”
    Rebekah frowned. She’d seen several women in the wagon heading for the cave. “But why?”
    The cook folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the table. “ ’Cause it’s the way it’s always been, I guess.” He blew out a short breath and reached again for his knife. “I’m sorry, but there aren’t any jobs open right now for a young lady. Chances are there won’t be for a while. Mr. Janin’s already hired for the spring and summer seasons, and he always has a list of women waiting to fill any position that opens unexpectedly.”
    Rebekah blinked rapidly, fighting tears. “Oh.”
    He bumped her chin with his fist. “But I’ll tell him to add your name to the list, and I’ll even let him know