Page 42 of The Harvey Girls

Thirty-Two

“There’s a movie at the community hall on Friday.” Robert was waiting for Billie when she came out of the service entrance at the rear of the El Tovar dining room.

“Hello, Robert.” Work weary, she swiped a stray lock of fine blond hair off her cheek. “How long have you been out here?”

“Not long,” he said. “A few minutes.” He blushed. “Maybe twenty or thirty.”

“You could have left a note at the dorm.”

“Yes, but then I wouldn’t have been able to… I just wanted to…” He looked down at his shiny black boots. “See you.”

It had been a week since their trip to Mather Point.

Billie had started to wonder if the awkwardness of their last exchange had dampened his interest in spending time with her, which was a bit of a disappointment.

She liked having someone to do things with other than Charlotte, and Robert’s bubbly personality distracted her from worrying about her da.

If she were honest with herself, it kept her from worrying about something else, too.

Leif still hadn’t responded to her letter.

True, he had only said that he’d write for her birthday, but the more she thought about it, the more uncomfortable she felt.

She had poured out her heart in that letter.

Maybe he’d been put off by it. Maybe he didn’t want a girl who was so free with her feelings.

Robert seemed to like her just as she was. He was a lot older than her, but he didn’t act like it. In fact she felt she was almost as mature as he was. Sometimes even more so.

“I’m glad you tracked me down,” said Billie.

Robert looked up. “You are?”

“Yes. I love movies.”

“Okay! That’s dandy. I’ll, um…” He wagged a finger as if trying to jog his memory.

“What time?” she prompted.

“Right! Seven o’clock. That’s when it starts, so I’ll swing by and get you at six thirty.”

“Perfect!” She smiled at him. He really was very sweet.

Charlotte wasn’t terribly worried about the movie idea, despite her concern that this Robert might have hopes that Billie was trying to ignore.

Billie claimed she and Robert were “just friends,” and at this point, it was technically true.

Charlotte felt certain the girl was smart enough to know that eventually he might want more, and she would have to deal with that when the time came.

At the moment, however, what Billie needed most was a respite from her worries, and Charlotte gauged that nothing untoward would likely happen in a room full of people. It wouldn’t hurt to keep an eye on things, however, so she decided to go, too.

“It’s a just silly movie,” said Billie. “You won’t like it.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to sit with you.”

“Yes, but you’ll be lurking around, watching us.”

“I do not lurk . And why would I watch you when there will be actual entertainment on-screen?”

“You’ll think it’s foolish and boring, and you’ll be waiting to gallop in like the cavalry if he so much as puts an arm around me—which he won’t because, as I keep telling you, it’s not a date .”

“You vastly overestimate how intriguing you and your little friend are to me.”

“ We are not little! ” Billie stamped her foot. “ You are!”

Charlotte started to laugh, and Billie, knowing her performance was indeed laughable, could do nothing but stomp out.

Charlotte was not laughing, however, when Vincent Patrillo, the El Tovar general manager, called her into his office on Friday afternoon after the lunch shift. She was terrified.

“Miss Turner,” he said as she stood at attention before a mahogany desk the size of a billiard table, “I’m told you took a trip to the trading post in Cameron earlier this week.

” He was seated behind the desk, yet he commanded the entire room with his booming baritone and faint Italian accent.

His thick black hair was slicked back from his forehead, and his large brown eyes pierced hers with their directness.

Charlotte felt herself go cold. She was about to be fired.

“Yes, I did, sir,” she stammered. “I… I insisted on going.”

“You insisted?”

“Yes, sir. It was my responsibility entirely. I had wanted to purchase a… a blanket.”

Good Lord, she sounded ridiculous, but she had to protect Will. She would not have him lose his job over this, even if she lost hers.

Mr. Patrillo’s face went quizzical. “A blanket?”

“It’s…” She could feel her lip beginning to tremble. “It’s very beautiful.”

Patrillo crossed his thick arms and squinted in annoyance.

“I’m so sorry, sir.” Her voice went breathy with dread. “It will never happen again.”

“But that is the point,” he said. “I want it to happen again.”

“Pardon me?”

“A couple—the Rudolfs, I believe—”

“Randolf,” she murmured.

“Hah?”

“The name is Randolf.”

“Yes, well, this couple of the undetermined surname, they spoke very highly of you. They said you are very smart and told them many things about nature and the Indians and all of this kind of business.”

“Yes, I did, sir. I’ve been reading books about the area, and—”

“Yes, yes.” He waved his hand. “This couple, they come back every year. They often stay in one of the suites. This year they stayed in the El Tovar Suite, the most expensive room in the hotel.”

“But… they’re college professors, sir.”

He shrugged. “Apparently there’s money.”

Of course there is , thought Charlotte. How else would a woman have the financial means and social clout to be allowed to earn a doctoral degree?

“It is good to keep them happy,” Patrillo went on. “And you did.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Now.” He put his hands flat on the enormous desk as if he were about to conduct some important business. “Will Rosser.”

Charlotte realized he had never heard Will’s last name before. Rosser. Possibly Welsh , she thought. Like her grandfather. “Yes, sir?”

“Are you and he…?” Patrillo tipped his head vaguely, though the implication was clear.

“Absolutely not.”

He eyed her skeptically, and it unnerved her to the point where she almost explained that she was married and therefore unavailable for such a connection. Almost, but not quite.

She held his gaze with the certainty of the righteous.

He nodded and moved on. “Fred Harvey is starting a new business, the Indian Detours.”

“Detouring around the Indians?” The Indians had been here since time immemorial, and despite the fact that the mighty US government had done everything in its power to contain and diminish them, they were still here. How did Fred Harvey propose to avoid them?

“Not around them,” said Patrillo, clearly questioning the Randolfs’ assessment of her intelligence. “ To them. The tourists take a detour from Harvey Houses to the Indian villages and see how they live.”

He went on to explain that the Detours had already begun, with passengers disembarking in New Mexico for a three-day excursion into Indian country.

“De-tourists” would visit pueblos and cliff dwellings, see the Indians in their own environment, witness their rituals and their rustic industry.

The cost of the three-day tour, including meals, lodging, and the services of a male driver and a female guide, was $135.

“I suspect we will be starting Detours from here in the next year or so, and I would like you to be part of it. There will be training, of course. You need to know what you’re talking about, and not just from books. The pay is very good. Better than serving food.”

Charlotte’s eyes went wide. She was already interested in learning more about the Indians; the increased salary made it all the more appealing. “I’d be delighted.”

“For now, you will continue to do the tours to the trading post and around the South Rim with Will Rosser. It seems that you are a good team, as long as there is no… reason for concern. Of course, it is high season in the restaurant, so I will need you there, as well. Are you prepared to work hard?”

As if she’d been sitting on a satin cushion eating chocolate eclairs these last two months.

“Yes, sir. I am prepared.”

Charlotte did not go back to the dorm to change out of the white uniform with the little black bow tie. She went directly in search of Will.

In the afternoon heat, she walked down the line of Harvey Cars by the train depot, and the drivers tipped their hats or nodded as she passed.

(A couple of them ogled her, but she was too distracted to muster her usual outrage.) When she came to the end without locating him, she said to the last driver, “Pardon me. I’m looking for Will Rosser.

Do you happen to know where he might be found? ”

The man chuckled at this—why did people find her so peculiar?—and said, “He just got off. Reckon you’ll find him back at his place.”

It was a strange way to refer to the men’s dormitory, but she thanked the man and strode off in that direction.

She knew it was southwest of the village, a bit farther out than most of the buildings.

The women’s dorm was right behind El Tovar; Harvey Girls had almost no distance to walk at night to return to their rooms. Grand Canyon Village seemed like a safe place—far safer than the crime-ridden St. Louis neighborhood where she’d lived with Simeon—but Charlotte would have been ill at ease making a trek like this in the dark.

She rapped on the dormitory door, and it was soon answered by an older man with a cook’s apron around his waist. He looked her up and down and sighed. “No women allowed in the dorm. You’d best get back to your own.”

“I don’t want to come in ,” said Charlotte curtly, offended at the implication. “I need to speak to Will Rosser, so I’d like him to come out. Would you be so kind as to retrieve him?”

“Oh, you want Will.”

“I don’t want —”

“They gave him his own place. Seniority and all. Plus everyone likes Will.” The man gave directions to the National Park Service housing.