AUTHOR'S NOTE

I'm anxious to continue with the Barrow/Bates relationship, but now that the family's in New York, there's some exposition to get out of the way. My readers have indulged me more than a beginning writer has a right to ask, but I'm going to ask for one more indulgence. I've tried a different way of presenting some exposition. It was challenging but fun to write. I hope it's fun to read. The next chapter will have Bates and Barrow without memories or third parties. Promise!

Enjoy (I hope)!

Raymond O'Katz


CHAPTER 116, Bad Apples

Early October 1930

Hotel Bartholomew
The Staff Dining Room

Dottie, the new reception clerk, watched as Mr Barrow heaped plate after plate onto his tray. He picked up the tray without paying and said something to the cashier that made her laugh and slap the register. Dottie smiled even though she could not make out the words. Her eyes followed Mr Barrow, who deftly ferried the heavy tray to a man and a little girl seated on the opposite side of the room. Dottie had met Mr Barrow that morning while training at the front desk. The streak in his hair and his smart suit made him seem wonderfully sophisticated, but he had the most peculiar accent.

Mancunian, he had called it.

Chinese? she thought. That can't be right. I must have misunderstood.

Roni, the reservations clerk, who apparently applied her makeup that morning without the benefit of a mirror, tapped Dottie's shoulder. "Isn't Mr Barrow divine?"

"Well, I ..."

"Absotively," agreed Ginny, the plumpest of the telephone operators.

"Mitts off, Ginny" warned Roni. "Mr Barrow and I are sympatico."

"You wish," smirked Jay, the office boy who, Dottie discovered, had not been a boy for some time.

"It could happen!" protested Roni.

Helen, the senior reception clerk who was training Dottie, made a face as she picked the bits of radish from her salad and placed them on the edge of her plate. "Not likely."

Ginny laughed as she slathered a thick layer of butter on her roll. "Holy cow! Helen and Jay have finally agreed on something."

Jay collected Helen's discarded radish and dumped the pieces on his own salad. "Dottie, take a peek out the window. Has hell frozen over?"

Dottie wished she had a clever retort.

Harv, the even-tempered bell captain, dipped his spoon into his individual chicken pie. He had recommended the dish to Dottie. "Leave her alone, Jay. First days are murder."

"It's okay," mumbled Dottie.

Roni crushed oyster crackers into her chowder. "Okay, Helicopter, tell me why you don't think Mr Barrow and I could be an item."

"Don't call me that," Helen cautioned, delicately taking a bite of her salad.

"Tell me."

The senior clerk stared at nothing in particular as she chewed.

"Well?"

Helen dabbed her mouth with her napkin. "Because Mr Barrow has had his heart broken, and he's sworn off romance."

"Says you," snorted Roni.

"No ... says Mr Bates."

"Mr Bates?" gasped Jay loudly enough to attract a few stares.

"Now you've done it," whispered Harv. "Mr Barrow's looking at us."

Dottie's tablemates turned their attentions to their plates, and Dottie followed their lead. She broke the perfectly browned crust on her chicken pie and enjoyed a satisfying mouthful. Helen had been right. Lunch in the dining room was a bargain. The best of the perks, Helen had advised.

"It's safe now," Jay informed the others in a low voice. "He's talking to his niece."

Dottie did not like to be nosy, but her curiosity got the better of her. "Who's Mr Bates?"

"Mr Barrow's half-brother," answered Ginny, licking butter from her fingertips. "That's him sitting with Mr Barrow. He walks with a fancy cane."

Jay spread potato salad over his corned beef. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, Mr Bates is a war veteran. That's yesterday's news. I wanna hear something new. Spill it, Helen."

"If you insist." Helen slowly extracted a toothpick from her club sandwich. "It was when we had that storm yesterday, and I was checking the office windows. Mr Barrow had left his open."

Dottie was confused. "Mr Barrow has his own office? Isn't he just a reception clerk like us?"

Harv smiled. "Not even close. He's here with his brother's family to learn the hotel business. They live on the low side on three."

"The low side," echoed Dottie. "That's the side with the lower room numbers?"

"Good, you're catching on. The owners were remodeling when the market crashed, and they decided to hold off on the last rooms. The rooms at the far end of the low side didn't get done. That's why Mr Levinson stuck 'em there. They live and eat here for free, but they work for free too."

"Who's Mr Levinson?"

"He's an owner of the hotel, but we don't see him much."

Helen pushed her salad plate aside. "Shall I continue?"

"So Mr Barrow left his window open." scoffed Jay. "So what? My grandma's mahjong game is more exciting than that."

"Sooo ...," continued Helen. "Have you ever noticed the photographs in his office?"

Ginny poured a stream of sugar into her Sanka. "I have. I've been bringing Mr Barrow a sandwich before I leave each evening. He's been staying late teaching himself to touch type. Isn't that adorable?"

"Oh brother," grumbled Jay.

"Aren't the photos mostly of the Bateses?" asked Ginny.

"Mostly, but not all. Have you ever noticed the one of a woman with curly hair?"

"No, what about her?" demanded Jay.

"They were engaged to be married. Mr Bates came looking for Mr Barrow while I was closing the window, and he told me."

"Sure, he did," taunted Jay. "The two of you giggled and gossiped all afternoon."

"I merely asked Mr Bates if the photos were of relatives, and he told me. One was of Mr Barrow's mother and sister, but they both died years ago."

Dottie glanced at Mr Barrow, who was helping the little girl twirl a forkful of spaghetti. "How sad."

"Then he told me about the woman with curly hair and how Mr Barrow was about to ask her father for her hand in marriage."

"What happened," ask Roni breathlessly.

"That's what I asked Mr Bates, and he said, You'll have to ask my brother. And then he said, But please don't. I can't bear to see him relive it."

"What a sap," concluded Jay.

"He's a romantic," countered Harv.

"Maybe that's why he works so hard," suggested Ginny. "He's trying to forget. Do you know that last week he actually cleaned rooms. Susie saw him with her own eyes.

Roni absently stirred her root beer with a straw. "I'd make him forget if he'd let me."

"I bet," muttered Jay.

"And the week before that," continued Ginny, "he was slicing vegetables for Chef Gauthier. He even took a turn at the switchboard. He told me that he wants to learn everything there is to know about the operation of a hotel."

"He certainly has a lot to learn," remarked Helen as she split her slice of layer cake in two. "I can tell you that." She slipped half the slice onto her bread plate and shoved it to the middle of the table.

"What do you mean?" asked Ginny, who picked up the plate and slid the cake onto her own slice.

"Yesterday morning, he was about to check in a colored woman when I stopped him just in the nick of time. I packed her off to the Hotel Theresa."

Harv switched his empty plate with his pineapple upside-down cake. "Did you know he caught up to her outside and apologized?"

Helen turned sharply to Harv. "He didn't!"

"He did. I was outside retrieving Mr Morgan's luggage and saw the whole thing. Mr Bates was just coming home from dropping his kids at school. Mr Barrow introduced them, and Mr Bates even shook her hand."

"Holy cow!" exclaimed Ginny.

"Ginny, shush!" Harv lowered his voice. "After the woman left, I heard Mr Barrow say, What'll I tell Josephine?"

"Who's Josephine?" asked Roni.

Harv shrugged. "I don't know, but Mr Bates said, We're here to learn. We'll set the rules our own way when it's our own place."

Helen tapped her manicured finger on the table. "Harv, do you think they could be a band of anarchists?"

"No!" Harv answered abruptly. "Sorry, Helen, but what an absurd thing to say. Anarchists aren't businessmen. Anarchists don't go to beauty school."

Dottie dropped her spoon. "Do Mr Barrow and Mr Bates go to beauty school, too?"

A loud guffaw exploded from the table.

Harv silently sipped his White Rock until the attention they had drawn from other tables subsided. "Mrs Bates goes to beauty school. She's about to get her certificate, isn't she Ginny?"

Ginny dabbed at a bit of errant frosting that had fallen onto her dress. "That's right. I don't know why she gave away six months of her life for a certificate she'll never use."

Harv pushed himself away from the table and pulled off the napkin that had been protecting his uniform. "She's doing the same as Mr Barrow. She's going to be responsible for a beauty shop and dress salon, and she doesn't want to be ignorant."

Roni checked herself in her compact mirror and powdered her nose. "She's the Lady Lion brand. Do you know it, Dottie? Bloomingdale's sells her dresses."

"No, I ..."

"They're not really my taste. Too tailored."

Helen nudged her plate in Jay's direction. "All I know is that Mrs Bates is the only one of that bunch earning money."

Jay speared Helen's pickle with his fork. "That's a setup I can appreciate!"

Ginny leaned back in her chair and rested her hand on her belly. "That's not true. Mr Barrow's done all sorts of odd jobs on his day off."

Roni pulled a lipstick from her handbag. "How do you know?"

"He asked me if I knew of anything, and I put him in touch with my uncle. Uncle Roy used to let Mr Barrow drive his cab on Wednesdays. Now business is down, so Uncle Roy drives it every day of the week."

Dottie had finished her Jello but thought she should wait and leave the table with Helen. "Are Mr Barrow and the Bateses going to open a hotel in New York?"

The others snickered, all except Harv.

Harv reached his arms up and stretched. "Only a millionaire could afford to do that. A millionaire with millionaire partners. They're counting on some fancy school in Hoopenberg that was supposed to open next September, but almost all of its students canceled their registrations after the crash. Mr Levinson bought it for a song. It's about a ninety miles north of here."

Dottie could not contain her excitement. "They're going to open a school in Hoopenberg? That's wonderful!"

"What's so wonderful about it?" mocked Jay. "Do you think they're going to hire you to teach?"

Dottie ignored the interruption. "I'm from Hoopenberg. The school had offered contracts to local farmers for dairy and produce. My family's lucky. My father wasn't gonna put a penny into expansion until the school proved itself, but some farmers invested a lot of money. The school went bust, and so did they. The bank even foreclosed on a couple of farms."

Harv leaned in on his elbows. "Mr Levinson isn't opening a school. He's renovating the buildings to be a resort. Mr Barrow and his family go up there every so often to make suggestions and approve plans. They're going to run the place."

"Don't forget the butlers," added Ginny.

Harv laughed. "I forgot, there is going to be a school. A butler school that they're gonna to tie to the resort somehow. Talk to Mr Barrow when you have a chance. He'll want to meet your family."

"Do you think so?"

"I'm sure of it."

Dottie took a final sip of her Nehi and caught sight of an older, rotund woman joining Mr Barrow's table. She was wearing a chic lavender dress that gave her an air of refinement in spite of her size.

Roni poked Dottie with her elbow. "See that dress? Mrs Bates made it 'specially for her. No zing at all."

"Who is she?"

"Mrs Gold. She's some cousin of Mr Levinson's."

"She's been in the hotel business her whole life," added Harv. "Mr Levinson brought her out of retirement to guide Mr Barrow and the Bateses."

"To guide them?"

"To make sure they're prepared for Hoopenberg, I guess."

Helen arranged the toothpicks on her empty plate. "Maybe Mr Barrow and that family of his aren't anarchists, but they are Bohemians. That's why they send their children to that school in the Village. I can't imagine Bohemians running a successful resort."

Harv stood and shoved his chair under the table. "City and Country is progressive, Helen, not Bohemian. All kinds of people send their kids there." He smiled at Dottie. "I've got to get back. When Helen's finished with you, come find me. I'll set you straight. See ya later."

Dottie glanced at Helen, who seemed unaffected by Harv's remark. "See ya."

Helen stood and picked up her handbag. "We should get going, too, Dottie. We need to fix our lipstick."

Dottie hoped that fixing lipstick was Helen's way of saying let's go to the restroom. She nodded to Mr Barrow as they passed on their way to the exit.

Mr Barrow nodded back. "We'll be there in a few minutes."

"Will Mr Bates be working the desk with us?" asked Dottie as the pair walked the long hallway.

"Not today. He works the desk from time-to-time, but mostly he does sales. Weddings, conventions, that kind of thing. I hear he's pretty good at it."

"Mr Barrow said, we'll be there. Who's we?"

"He meant Milly, that little girl who was with them."

"Mr Barrow brings her to work?"

"Sometimes, in the afternoon. She goes to that Bohemian school in the morning."

"That little girl goes to school? How old is she?"

"Three, but she started there last spring when she was only two. That's how young the school takes 'em."

"I never heard of a school like that. What does she do in the afternoons?"

"If it's nice out and Mr Bates is free, he takes her to a park, and she plays while he paints. That's his hobby."

"My dad's hobby is model trains. For Christmas, he sets them all around the tree."

"Now that's a hobby for a man."

"What does the girl do if the weather's bad?

"If the weather's bad or if Mr Bates has sales appointments, then she keeps herself busy in the guest playroom, or she sits in Mr Barrow's office. He has a corner all set up for her."

"She just sits in there?"

"She reads."

"That little girl can read?"

Helen drew closer and whispered. "As far as I'm concerned, she's an absolute freak, but you didn't hear it from me. She's nothing like her brother."

"How old is he?"

"Four." Helen laughed. "Four-and-a-half. That half is so important to children."

"What does he do all day?"

"School. Mr Bates takes the kids to school in the morning, Mr Barrow picks up Milly at lunch, and Mrs Bates picks up Timmy on her way home from that beauty school of hers."

"What do they do in the summer?"

"Last summer, Timmy spent most of his time with some doctor's family. They live nearby and have a boy his age."

"And Milly?"

"Same as now. She'd read or tend to her doll hospital in the playroom."

"She has a doll hospital?"

"I told you, she's not normal. You see, this is a hotel. There's always some little girl whose dolly breaks, and some little boy who's responsible." Helen turned the corner, and Dottie hurried to keep pace. "Well, the girl gets one glimpse of Milly's hospital in the playroom and off she goes to get her dolly. Sometimes the boy brings it to make amends. Either way, Milly listens to the tale of woe and examines the doll with an old stethoscope from that doctor-friend of theirs. When Mr Barrow comes around to check on her, they all consult, and he does what he can to save the dolly. They even keep unclaimed dolls on hand for parts. Anyway, that's the way Harv tells it. I don't know how much I believe."

"How cute!"

"You think so? I think a little girl playing hospital is morbid. The whole family's upside-down except for Timmy. He's the only good apple in the barrel. You'll see."

Dottie smiled to herself. She could not wait to tell her father about the family of bad apples who were going to bring salvation to the farmers of Hoopenberg.