Forbidden by Beverly Jenkins Page B

wonder if he’d returned from San Francisco, she took a look around. There was a large modern stove, a sink, lengths of countertops, and a slew of cabinets. The kitchen walls were screened to let in the outside air. “So, what would you like for me to do, Mrs. Stewart?”
    â€œFirst, I’d like for you to call me Sylvia or Sylvie. Mrs. Stewart is reserved for boarders and the like.”
    â€œYes, ma’am.”
    â€œNow, let’s talk duties and wages. Have a seat.” She gestured at the table in the center of the room and Eddy complied. “So, how well do you cook?”
    â€œRather well, I’m told. My mother made her living as a cook to wealthy families in Denver and I grew up helping her. I’m experienced with steaks, quail, trout, and everything in between. I’ve cooked for individuals, families, and large to-­dos like banquets and weddings. I do well with cakes, tarts, pickling, marmalades, jellies, and pies.”
    â€œBreads?”
    Eddy nodded.
    â€œExcellent. You’ll be preparing breakfast and dinner for the boarders daily. I open the dining room to the public three days a week: Tuesday, Thursdays, and Sundays, with Sunday being the busiest day. Can you handle all that?”
    â€œYes. How many boarders, and how many people come on Sundays?”
    â€œI have three boarders, and usually ten to fifteen people on Sunday. Too many?”
    â€œNot at all.” In fact, Eddy couldn’t believe how small a cooking job this would be. During her years at the hotel, she and the staff fed at least fifty people daily.
    They talked wages next, and when told how much her weekly pay would be, she asked, “What other chores will you be wanting me to do?”
    â€œNone. Just cooking.”
    The proposed amount was twice what she was paid as a cook before being demoted to scrubbing floors. “No floors or wash?”
    â€œNo, I have other people to do those.”
    Eddy wasn’t sure how to respond.
    Mrs. Stewart explained, “If you’re as good a cook as you say you are, I don’t want you hired away by someone who’ll promise to pay you more. There’s a lot of money here in Virginia City, and the wealthy have the means to pay for the best.”
    â€œI see.” She wondered if Sylvia Stewart was one of those wealthy residents.
    â€œSo, since you haven’t seen the city, let me give you a tour. You need to meet some of the farmers and storekeepers you’ll be dealing with and learn your way around. Later you can meet the boarders. Gabe Horne works in the mines, Whitman Brown works at one of the banks and is also a Baptist preacher. August Williams is a dishwasher at one of the hotels.”
    â€œThere’s a hotel here?”
    â€œYes, which is why I’m paying you so well. I don’t want you deserting me.”
    â€œDon’t worry. While I’m here, I’m all yours. I owe you a lot for taking me in and offering me work.” Then she thought of something she needed to make clear. “I left Denver to go to California, and soon as I save up enough money, I’ll be moving on.”
    â€œUnderstood.”
    â€œThank you very much for the job.”
    â€œAnd thank you for arriving right on time. Let’s take that tour.”
    While Sylvia drove the small buckboard pulled by an old mare named Dilly, Eddy took in Virginia City. According to Sylvia, the initial silver strike in 1859 turned penniless miners into millionaires who built mansions, imported fancy furniture and smoked even fancier cigars. With all that money they also built churches, business establishments, and the International House hotel that Sylvia told her had one hundred rooms and an elevator. There were gaslights lining the streets and sewer lines beneath the city, thus making it more cosmopolitan than she’d imagined. Many of the buildings were made of brick and had fancy glass windows. There were a large number