Page 6 of The Maid's Secret

“I’m fly and I’m flash, and I like to dash,” he said. “Call me Speedy. Everyone does.”

And so, unorthodox though it is, I respect Speedy’s wishes. Speedy is always tripping over his greatcoat, which hangs off him, and his cap is so big it threatens to fall right off his head. He certainly does not have Mr.Preston’s gravitas, but he makes up for it by doing the doorman’s job with a surfeit of youthful—if somewhat gangly—enthusiasm.

“Yo, yo!” he said to the three of us this morning as he bobbed in our faces like an eager gopher. “Bruh and Bagel just got here. Walked right up these steps five minutes ago!”

“Brown and Beagle,” I corrected.

“Like I said, they’ve arrived. And see that posse? That’s the camera crew. There’s the gaffer. He shines light on stuff to make it look better than it does in real life.”

Speedy, a tech wizard who loves music and movies, has been taking night classes in video production. He wants to work in the film industry one day, so having a TV shoot at the hotel is a dream come true for him.

“See the long-pole lady?” he said. “Boom operator. I’m still learning, but one day I’m gonna be a major film asphyxianado.”

“Aficionado,” I said.

“Like I said.”

Keeping up with Speedy’s hummingbird pace makes me dizzy, and there are times when his mouth does not match the pace of his brain, something I’m still learning to forgive.

“We’d better get in there,” I said.

“Lots to do this morning,” Juan added.

The three of us left Speedy and revolved into the busy lobby. Oh,how I adore that lobby, with its tangy scent of lemon polish mixed with a fine mélange of guest perfumes. The grand staircase in the middle of the main floor is an Art Decopièce de résistance.The serpentine brass handrails spiral gracefully to the terrace, where voyeurs can survey the bustling scene below—bellhops and valets crisscrossing the marble floor with luggage in tow, and guests huddled together on the dark emerald settees, their secrets absorbed into the deep plush velvet.

Several months ago, Juan came walking down that very staircase, and in front of the entire staff of the Regency Grand, he proposed to me, slipping onto my finger a ring that once belonged to my gran. A simple gold band with a little heart in the middle held between two tiny hands, that ring is with me always, a reminder not only of my engagement day but of the woman who taught me that love is everything.

“I’m off to the kitchens,mi amor.I must check the marzipanimals. I made enough to fill Noah’s ark.”

“Will you come back for the preshow appraisal?” Mr.Preston asked. “It starts in fifteen minutes.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Juan replied. “Molly’s about to learn an important lesson.”

“And what’s that?” I asked.

“That sometimes a teacup is just a teacup,” he replied with a wink.

“My gran’s things will always have value to me,” I said.

“And that’s why I love you,” Juan pronounced as he blew me a kiss goodbye. “See you both in there.”

Juan hurried toward the stairs leading to the dank basement kitchen.

Gran-dad and I took in the lobby, a buzzing hive of activity. The settee area was cordoned off—a makeshift holding pen for the live audience waiting to enter the tearoom. Behind those maroon ropes, hordes of Brown and Beagle groupies—affectionately known as “Bee-lievers”—milled about with Bee & Bee VIP lanyards strung around their necks, holding in their hands treasures they hoped werereal. My dear friend Angela, bartender at the Social, our hotel bar and grill, was attempting to maintain order at the corral’s entry point, but if her fiery hair was a barometer of her mood (and it always is), she was losing control entirely.

“Hair in a tizzy means Angela’s busy,” Mr.Preston whispered, reading my mind.

“Look what the maid dragged in,” Angela said the moment she laid eyes on Mr.Preston.

“It’s lovely to see you, Angela,” Gran-dad said. “But why are you manning the lobby?”

“The Social is closed today—Mr.Snow’s orders—so he’s assigned me to crowd control. And it’s not going well.”

“So I see,” said Mr.Preston as white-haired ladies sans lanyards ducked under the ropes of the exclusive holding area.

“Everyone is excited that Brown and Beagle are here,” I said.

“Molly, these fans are lunatics,” Angela replied. “See those two?” She pointed to a couple in the crowd. The man held an oversize jar in his hands.