The Address(13)

“Mr. Douglas, I’m pleased to introduce Mrs. Smythe; she arrived from England yesterday.”

Mr. Douglas eyed her much like a horse dealer might evaluate a disappointing mare.

“Right, then, Mrs. Smythe. We don’t have much time left to us, and things are a mess, as you see. We’ll have to make the adjustments quickly.”

“I’m happy to do whatever needs to be done,” said Sara. “It would help, of course, to know how many maids have been hired and how soon we can get them here.” From the minute she’d awoken, her mind had already swum with the best way to direct a crew of girls to do a deep clean of the place, ridding it of sawdust and polishing the mahogany to a shine.

“Right, well, we have a minor problem there.”

She steadied her gaze and placed one hand on the table. “A problem?” If he’d changed his mind, she’d have nowhere to go. Would he or Mr. Camden pay for her fare home? Would the Langham take her back?

“Now, don’t go all pale on me. It’s not as bad as that.” Mr. Douglas was breathing hard, like he’d run the entire way. He had ruddy cheeks and his lips were unexpectedly cherubic, like a baby’s. “The man we hired to manage the building is unable to join us. His mother is ill, and he’s off to St. Louis to care for her. So I’d like you to be lady managerette. With your qualifications from the Langham in London, we figure it’ll be a good fit.”

“Instead of resident housekeeper?”

“Exactly. It will come with an increase in salary and you’ll be in charge of not only the housekeeper and maids, but the entire staff.”

“I’ve never worked as a lady managerette before.” She’d never even heard the term. It sounded ridiculous, overly feminine and precious.

“No matter. The very fact you were brought in from abroad, from some fancy hotel will impress the tenants. I can’t get anyone else on this short notice, and Mr. Camden spoke highly of you.”

“What does it entail, this job?”

He looked at the ceiling and rattled off a list. “As I said, you’ll oversee the entire staff, be in charge of general operations. Make sure everyone from the porter to the chambermaids are doing their jobs, that they get paid on time, that the invoices and such are taken care of. Keep the place humming. The second floor is to be rented to the out-of-town guests of residents, so that sort of arrangement will certainly be familiar to you. You’ll also screen prospective tenants and ensure the move-in process is seamless.”

“Looks like you’ve got a promotion already, Mrs. Smythe.” Mr. Camden began folding up the plans. “Not bad for the first hour on the job.”

She managed a weak smile. The managers at the Langham came and went every few years, never able to please the owners or the guests, blamed for any mishap. And they were always men. “How many apartments are there in the building?”

“Sixty-five, ranging from four to twenty rooms,” answered Mr. Camden.

“How many will be on staff, once it’s up and running?”

Mr. Douglas took a moment to answer, configuring the number in his head, apparently. “One hundred and fifty.”

She recoiled. “I’d be in charge of one hundred and fifty people? What would they all do?”

“Let’s see, this is a good test for me.” Mr. Douglas chuckled, as if it were all a silly joke. “Elevator staff, doormen, janitors, porters, watchmen, resident laundress with staff, gentlemen’s tailor, two painters, cabinetmaker, electrician, plumber, dining room staff. I think that’s everyone. Practically a city within a city, no?”

“Don’t forget the carpenter and glazier,” added Mr. Camden.

The two men discussed the schedule for installing the finishing touches on the Otis elevators for a few minutes, until Mr. Douglas turned on his heel and exited down the hall, puffing like a train.

Mr. Camden went to the wall and rang a button. “Well, that’s exciting news, isn’t it?”

She was frozen on the spot, unsure of how to answer. She was to be responsible for the entire staff and the well-being of hundreds of tenants.

“Fitzroy will be here in a moment and can show you to your office. I think you’ll prefer it to the garret you had at your previous employer’s. I designed the interior myself.”

For a moment, she ached for the small office at the top of the hotel, where she had showed up every day knowing exactly what was expected of her. “I’m not sure I’m right for this position.”

“Then you’ll be on the first steamer back.”

She blanched, and he laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous, give it a whirl. Douglas is in a pickle. You’ll do it, right?” Before she could reply, Fitzroy appeared.

“Sir?”

“Take Mrs. Smythe to the front office. And, Mrs. Smythe, first order of things is to find a new resident housekeeper. Off you go.”

Dutifully, she followed Fitzroy back down the stairs. He moved nimbly for his age. “I’ll have to bring you through the basement, as they’re causing a ruckus in the courtyard.”

She nodded, unable to speak. Her throat had tightened and she wanted a cup of tea desperately.

They descended to the lowest level of the building. Even though they were underground, the place was bright with natural light.