Rainy Day Dreams: 2 Read Online Free PDF Page B

appeared not to notice. She stopped in the center of the room and turned. “What do you think the manager of a hotel does?”
    “Well…” Kathryn stopped, taken aback. In the weeks prior to the journey, her efforts had been focused on convincing Papa not to send her away. When he remained stubborn, she’d comforted herself with a single recurring thought—that she would come, spend a few weeks here, and then return home with the tale that things hadnot worked out as he hoped. As to the actual duties she might be asked to perform, she had given them no thought at all.
    She cleared her throat. “I suppose a manager collects rents, and sees to guests’ inquiries, and ensures they are comfortable.”
    “Rents don’t touch a single hand but this one.” She extended her palm and slapped it with the fingers of her other hand. “And if someone has an inquiry, what help could you offer? You don’t even know where the privy is.”
    “Of course there will be an initial adjustment period.”
    Her answer went unnoticed as Madame’s lips formed a cynical twist. “And just what do you think guests need for their comfort?”
    “Well, I…” She swallowed. The only time she had stayed in a hotel was last year, when she and Mama traveled to Sacramento with Papa on business. Her needs were seen to by Mrs. Lassiter, owner of the Lassiter House. While Papa worked, she and Mama toured the city and discovered a delightful little art gallery. When they returned for the evening, their rooms were neat and orderly. Now that Kathryn thought about it, she’d seen no maids or anyone else about the place. Had their clean rooms been due to the efforts of the proprietress?
    “You see?” Excess flesh on Madame’s neck jiggled with the force of her nod. “I’m not as young as I used to be, and steps are proving a challenge to these old joints. I want someone younger to see to the work upstairs. Rents and inquiries I can handle down here.”
    She turned her back and waddled toward a closed door, leaving Kathryn standing in the center of the room, searching for an argument. The problem was, she saw the woman’s point. Well, except for the fact that the weakened state of her joints was probably due to overload more than advancing age. Still, managing a hotel of this size no doubt included the unpleasant tasks of keeping the rooms clean and, therefore, the guests comfortable. And if one was incapable of handling those tasks, one would need to hire someone to help. Hence, the arrangement with Papa.
    It made sense. If she were going to stay, that is. Which she most certainly was not. But she had overheard Captain Baker mention to a crewman that the Fair Lady would be in port for four days. Though Papa had not sent her away penniless, her travel allowance was by no means generous. And unbeknownst to Papa, she had spent quite a bit on the painting supplies that were packed carefully in her trunk, for who knew how hard they would be to find here? Between that and the donation she had managed to make the day they sailed, of which Papa would certainly not approve, her ready cash had been severely depleted. If she had to pay for room and board, she may not have enough left to purchase passage on the return trip to San Francisco.
    It appeared she had no option but to accept Madame’s offer of employment, distasteful though it may be.
    Well, and why not? If a woman were to make her way in this world, she couldn’t be afraid to work even menial jobs. She was a grown, capable woman, and certainly wasn’t unaccustomed to household duties. At home she tidied her own art room. Papa and Mama employed a cook and a housekeeper to take care of the other chores, but she did not trust anyone to enter the sanctity of her studio, especially when she was working on a painting.
    She would not call herself a maid, though, even for four days. A girl had her pride, after all. “I accept the offer to become your assistant manager.”
    “My assistant, eh?”