Crestmont by Holly Weiss Page A

dollars for the day. You appear to be responsible and come highly recommended by Mrs. Woods. Do you accept the position?”
    “Yes, thank you, Miss Cunningham,” Gracie said, extending her hand. Embarrassed, she dropped it. Madeleine Cunningham had already risen and turned to shake Mrs. Woods’ hand.
    “Thank you for your assistance. Please give her the details.”
    “Indeed. I am confident Gracie will be a responsible and caring companion for your mother.”
    “May I have a light?” Madeleine Cunningham asked as she pulled a cigarette and ladies’ holder from her purse.
    “I’m sorry, no. Perhaps one of the gentlemen outside can help you. Let me show you out. Gracie, please wait here for me.” Sure she had fumbled something in the interview, she wiped her perspiring hands on her apron and anxiously waited for Mrs. Woods to return.
    “Come with me,” Mrs. Woods crooked a finger for Gracie to follow. “We’re going to the kitchen. I’ll have Isaiah get you started on something simple like a roast, and then perhaps you can practice some other dishes from a cookbook. Remember, if you can read, you can cook.” Gracie had to quick step to keep up with Mrs. Woods’ brisk walk down the hall.

     
    ****

     
    Later that morning Peg told her mother about Old Tim. “Eleanor and I were just playing a little in the lobby after breakfast. I didn’t let her run around. There weren’t many guests nearby because they had gone down to the lake to watch the canoe races. Honest, Mama, I’m sure we never bothered anyone.”
    “Peg, darling, you are rambling. Get to the point.”
    “Well, it’s Old Tim. He stopped.”
    “Stopped? That clock hasn’t stopped since my father had it shipped from Germany twenty years ago.”
    “Come see, Mama. He’s stopped for sure.”
    Margaret walked to the lobby with her arm around her elder daughter. They studied the pendulum on the grandfather clock, hanging silent and motionless.
    “Indeed, it seems Old Tim did stop, Peg. At twenty till five. It must have been early this morning, because I am sure I would have noticed this before dinner last night. Thank you, dear. Now, find Eleanor, and the two of you tell Isaiah I said you deserve some of those oatmeal cookies he is baking.”
    “Thanks, Mama.” Peg called over her shoulder as she bounded out the door to find her sister.
    Margaret stared at the clock. For some reason, the position of the hour hand on the four and the minute hand on the eight mystified her. Was that the time the butterfly came to her? Margaret suddenly remembered her father’s whispering just before he died. She was so numb about that time; it was hard to recall what he said. She closed her eyes and strained to remember. She could see his top teeth struggling over his bottom lip. Yes, she supposed, it was possible he was saying 440. But, why?

     
    ****

     
    Eleanor Woods skipped into the huge kitchen, knocking over three empty pots, which clattered from the prep table to the floor. “Mama says you have oatmeal cookies for Peg and me,” she announced. Her eyes widened in anticipation, stretching the tiny strawberry beauty mark embedded in her right eyebrow.
    “Whoa, there, girl!” Isaiah boomed, swooping her up into his arms. “No jump rope in my kitchen. You could’ve gotten a bad burn if there had been something in those pots.”
    “Oh, Eleanor, what have you done now?” Peg picked up the pots and returned them to the huge wooden table.
    “Now, Isaiah, don’t you be like Peg and spoil my fun.” Eleanor frowned and poked his stomach through his stained apron. “Hi, Gracie. What are you doing in here? I heard Mama gave you a bunch of new rooms. Are you chef’s assistant now too?” She watched as Gracie clumsily hacked a knife through some parsley.
    Isaiah gently lifted Eleanor up to sit on the prep table and said, “If you’re quiet, maybe I’ll give you some bare naked bread.”
    “Bare naked bread? I’m going to tell Mama you are saying