Chapter 3

I was wearing a different hat--that of the gardener--a few days later. Mr. Cruikshank had taken ill and the groundskeepers were running ragged trying to make up for his absence. I was digging weeds and grass from underneath rose bushes when a taxi arrived all the way from Schenectady. Melvin the doorman called for assistance with the luggage, but the woman had only brought one small bag, and insisted on carrying it herself despite young George's pleas. George was a fine bellman, and very true to his core beliefs--for a man of his age, anyway--a young man. He once turned down a fifty-dollar tip from Truman Capote. As much as it would have benefited him, George was not a fan of Mr. Capote's "type."

The woman checked in, clearly gave in to George's will to take her bag, then made her way to the roses in the front courtyard where I'd been weeding out the... well, the weeds.

She called out to me, "Hello there! You're doing a magnificent job; the roses look just fantastic!"

I was a dirty, sweaty mess. I decided to politely disengage by simply waving a thank you with my little shovel in hand. She wasn't satisfied with that. She made her way closer to where I was working, taking the time to smell the roses along the way. She wore a full pleated long black skirt, tight cream-colored waist coat, with black gloves and a matching hat wide enough it might have passed for an umbrella if it had been raining. I never did understand high fashion, but I knew it looked sharp on her. She reminded me of Lynne Frederick, except with much darker hair--almost black.

"You're not Gregory."

"No, Gregory I am not. Mr. Cruikshank as been a bit under the weather these past few days. It's taken four of us to try to keep up with the work he does regularly."

"Well, that's no good at all! I hope it's nothing serious."

"He hasn't let on, so I couldn't tell you with any certainty."

"Are you alright? You're looking at me a bit strangely."

"Oh, I am truly sorry. It's just that, you're a bit younger than you seemed, at a distance, and you're quite um... I mean... please, forgive me."

"It's alright. You're a bit 'um' yourself.'

"I... "

"I just love it here! I used to talk to Gregory for hours when I was a girl. He's so nice."

"Really? I've been coming here for... fourteen years, now, and I don't remember seeing you."

"Well, I've been coming here for nineteen years, and I don't remember seeing you."

"Nineteen years? Are you even nineteen years old?"

"Just turned twenty last week, actually."

"Oh really? Happy birthday, then--belated, I mean."

"Well, thank you, Mr..."

"Goldman, but you can call me Stephen... if you'd like."

"Okay... Stephen. Well, I'd better let you attend to the roses. I'm glad we finally met."

"Me too."

She strolled off and up the steps to the entrance again. I watched her the whole way. Melvin must have been in a daze. As soon as she opened the door, he jerked around, no doubt apologizing for not getting the door for her. He's got one job.

I looked forward to running into her again--after I'd cleaned up some. It was stupid of me not to at least ask for her name. I've always been terrible with names. Well, at least I learned Mr. Cruikshank's name-- Gregory. Gotta remember that.

Mrs. Teague was lecturing three of the housekeepers when I walked by the office. I gave her a silent lecture myself by reaching in and closing the door so no meandering guests could overhear the event. Making eye contact, she paused to say thank you. Something must have had her on edge. A Mrs. Teague lecture is a rare thing. There were a few pastries left after the morning guests had devoured the daily offering. I chose a cinnamon roll, split it down the middle, and returned to the office with two plates.

"I guess there's an industry standard minimum size for cinnamon rolls. Do you want half, or have you already eaten?"

"Oh, no thank you, Mr. Goldman. You're a dear for offering, though."

I made my way to the trash bin and hovered over it, "It seems a waste, but after working out in the sun all morning..."

"Oh, well, just set it here. Maybe I'll nibble on it."

"Something with housekeeping?"

"Another report about something missing from a room--two, actually."

"Two reports?"

"Yes, earrings and a paper bag of trinkets--souvenirs for grandchildren--buttons, postcards, and the like."

"Well, I can see earrings creating a degree of temptation, but a bag of souvenirs from Sharon Springs? That's hardly a treasure to someone who already lives here."

"Nonetheless, I treated them equally. I told the girls, 'Word of mouth travels fast when it's a warning to others. If it get around that people's belongings aren't safe at the Adler, it'll reflect in our vacancies next Spring.'"

"Do you suspect anyone?"

"No, Mr. Goldman, we've the finest staff from Albany to Syracuse. No one on our staff is stealing from guests. I'll state my reputation on it. Now, what they may do, and this is what I suspect, is they may accidentally leave a door unlocked, leaving little items in reach of little hands."

"You think one of the guests' children is checking for unlocked doorknobs?"

"It seems a more likely scenario, don't you think? An unhappy guest isn't going to tip the staff, so a bag of buttons and post cards would hardly be worth the absence of gratuity, let alone the risk of being terminated."

"That's pretty smart. This is exactly why I think we need to upgrade our security by investing in punch card key systems."

"You may be right. It's a small price to pay for peace of mind."

"That's brilliant! That's exactly what I'm going to say to Uncle... I mean, Mr. Yarkony. Do you know when he's planning to come around again?"

"He said he'd be back Sunday around noon so he'll be up to date and prepared for Monday's managers' meeting."

"Well, that gives me three days to count all the doors and put together the proposal."

"Just make sure to get whatever you need today. You're not scheduled for tomorrow or Saturday."

"But we're fully booked--the Kessler reunion."

"We're working a skeleton crew to stay out of the cleaners' way on Friday, and they'll be doing the kitchen and offices Saturday, so the fewer the better."

"You're sure you don't me?"

"You're truly a Renaissance man, Mr. Goldman. To date, I don't believe we've found anything you can't do. You're a valuable addition to the Adler, that's for sure, but we've managed this long without you, I'm sure we'll make it through this time."

"So, I guess you're saying I'm an expendable asset."

"This time, yes," she said, "as a matter of fact, but if you insist, I'm sure Mr. Mericle could use an extra hand setting up the banquet hall after the cleaners are finished."

She knew damn well Tommy Mericle and I didn't get along. I shouldn't say that. We could get along just fine. We just didn't like each other. I only needed the one day to count doors. The truth is, I'd been working on a presentation to upgrade the locks for a couple of weeks, off and on, so the hard part was already done. I kept Mrs. Teague on her toes by calling her bluff.

"That would be fine. That will give me an opportunity to get his opinion on any other security upgrades we could make."

"What I'm trying to tell you is, we don't need another body in the way."

"Then give one of the bussers the night off. I'll help with set up and break down, and run water during the banquet.

"Mr. Gold..."

"It's settled then. Have Mr. Mericle choose which crew member will have the night off, and I'll fill in for the evening. Now, unless anyone else has taken a sick day, I'll get started on my rounds."

Mrs. Teague looked down at her clipboard, marveling at the long list of employees who had called in sick. "No. Feel free to do your rounds. I'll send for you if I need you anywhere."

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