Through the Deep Waters by Kim Vogel Sawyer Read Free Book Online Page B

earlier when the train cars emptied of passengers, but the man at the desk asked if she was eating, and when she said no, he sent her away before she could explain. Now that everyone was gone, she should let the manager know his new chambermaid had arrived. But she didn’t move.
    The man with the eggs was in there, talking to the manager. She didn’t want to disrupt their conversation. Mostly she didn’t want to see the man again. He must think her a complete ninny, the way she’d behaved. She hated feeling so jumpy inside, always fearful. The egg man said he’d gotten hurt along time ago and it hardly bothered him anymore. Would she be able to make the same claim someday?
    The sound of footsteps—uneven ones—reached her ears. She hunkered low in the chair and peeked over the high back. Sure enough, the egg man was leaving. She tried to see his face. If he looked happy, she’d know he’d sold his eggs. But he held the basket upright in the curve of his arm. If it was empty, he wouldn’t have a reason to carry it up against his ribs. So he must not have sold them.
    Unexpectedly, anger boiled in her middle. He’d looked so eager, saying he hoped the manager would buy his eggs. Would a cook need eggs? Of course he would—Rueben had arranged for daily delivery of eggs at the Yellow Parrot. So why had the manager said no? She watched the man stride away in his funny big step–little step way. If she had a house and a kitchen, she’d chase after him and buy some eggs to make up for the manager’s refusal, even if it took every penny she had left in her pocket. It wasn’t fair. Life wasn’t fair.
    “May I help you?”
    The voice startled her so badly she yelped. She bounced up from the chair and turned to find herself being scrutinized by a short, wiry, gray-haired man wearing round, thick spectacles on the end of his nose.
    The man’s heavy gray brows descended in a scowl. “Are you a guest here at the Clifton?”
    Dinah shook her head. “No, sir. I was hired to be the new chambermaid.”
    His expression remained dour. “You’re Miss Dinah Hubley?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “What are you doing out here on the porch, then? The telegram Mrs. Walters sent yesterday afternoon indicated you’d be arriving on the morning train. The morning train’s already come and gone, and you haven’t checked in with me.”
    So this must be the hotel manager. The past days had been fraught with difficulties—standing firm against Miss Flo’s wheedling to stay and take her mother’s place, handling Tori’s death and burial, traveling to Kansas City, being sent to Florence to clean rooms rather than serve diners … And now shewas being scolded when she’d only done what the man at the desk inside had told her to do, which was to go away. Added to that, the manager had refused to buy the nice man’s eggs.
    “What was wrong with the eggs?”
    The manager blinked twice, his pale-brown eyes huge behind the thick lenses. “I beg your pardon?”
    Why did it matter to her whether the hotel bought the man’s eggs or not? Because he’d asked her forgiveness, that was why. No one—not even Rueben, who’d scolded her severely for going to the hotel room before admitting he was really angry at Miss Flo, not at her—had ever asked her forgiveness before. But how could she explain her interest to the manager? Dinah sighed. “Never mind.”
    The man harrumphed. “Well, Miss Hubley, I am Mr. Irwin, the dining room manager and staff supervisor. I assume you have a bag somewhere?” He seemed to search the area.
    What few items she owned she’d stuffed into a woven satchel. She retrieved it from its spot beside the chair where she’d slept. “Yes, sir.”
    “Very well, then. Come with me.” He turned and moved across the porch floor with hardly a sound, his frame so slight. Dinah followed, observing how sprightly he moved for an older man—much more so than the egg man, who was no doubt decades younger. But Mr. Irwin hadn’t