as Marie suspected; she was a phony, putting on an act for Frank. Marie sincerely hoped that he could see through her behavior.
She turned back to the sink, anxious to be done with the kitchen chores so she could leave the room.
“So, how long have you been working here—Marie? It’s Marie, right?” Sarah knew good and well what her name was. Marie knew that Sarah was just trying to make her feel she was only the help and her name just wasn’t important enough to remember.
“It’s been about one month now,” Marie answered politely. She was washing as fast as she could. Marie was afraid that she would say something she’d regret if she spent too much longer in Sarah’s presence.
“And how old are you?”
Marie turned to look and Sarah had a big smile on her face—a big ol’ phony smile. She was up to no good. Marie could feel it and was liking her less and less by the minute.
“I’m twenty-two.”
Marie studied the dishwater. She considered just leaving the rest of the dirty dishes soaking until later, when Mr. Carter had taken Sarah home. Marie did not want to be in the kitchen alone with her.
“I’m twenty-two also.” Sarah sounded too happy about that fact. “We’re the same age. We probably have a lot in common.”
At Sarah’s tone, Marie felt her stomach drop.
“Where did you go to school? Where do you get your hair done?”
Marie didn’t like where this was going.
“Have you considered getting it done in the latest style? Mine is. What do you think?” Sarah moved her head from side to side for Marie to get the full effect. “Have you seen some of the latest fashions at the dressmakers in town? They’re to die for!”
Marie knew what Sarah was doing and it was downright nasty. They were of a different class. Marie was of the working class. In fact, Marie was glad to be able to say that she was of the working class. She was grateful to have the job she had here.
But Sarah didn’t have to work and she was rubbing it in Marie’s face. Sarah could have her hair done and buy new dresses and spend the day reading the latest periodicals. She wasn’t nice, of that Marie was certain. And there was something else Marie was really sure about.
Sarah was definitely not good enough for Frank Carter.
Marie looked over her shoulder to see the smug smile on Sarah’s face and knew exactly what she wanted to do next.
She picked up a large pot from the supper dishes that she hadn’t washed yet, scooped up a good amount of dirty dishwater, then she quickly turned from the sink, took two steps toward the table and dumped the entire contents over Sarah’s head.
Frank was just reentering the kitchen as Sarah shrieked and Marie couldn’t keep the smile from her face. One look at Frank’s face, though, and her smile disappeared.
“What in tarnation is goin’ on here?” Frank boomed, looking from Marie to Sarah, then back to Marie. Frank focused on Marie. “Well?” Now Marie was sorry—Frank looked madder’n she had ever seen him. “I’m waiting, Marie.”
“I…I…” Marie had lost her voice in the face of Frank’s anger. Sarah found hers okay though.
“She…she…she dumped that dirty dishwater all over me! She’s probably ruined my dress. I want you to take the cost out of her pay, Frank!” Sarah was ranting. It was shrill and unbecoming; she had forgotten to be pleasing. “Are you listening to me, Frank? Frank!”
Frank’s eyes had never left Marie’s and she just couldn’t bear it. He was looking at her with great disappointment. Marie kept looking down then back up only to find him still looking at her with that same expression on his face. And completely ignoring Sarah.
Finally, Frank grabbed a clean dishtowel from the counter and turned to Sarah. He helped to dry her off a bit and then led her toward the parlor. She was still complaining to him, but he wasn’t answering her at all. He finished helping her dry off and then fetched her coat, helping her into it
She turned back to the sink, anxious to be done with the kitchen chores so she could leave the room.
“So, how long have you been working here—Marie? It’s Marie, right?” Sarah knew good and well what her name was. Marie knew that Sarah was just trying to make her feel she was only the help and her name just wasn’t important enough to remember.
“It’s been about one month now,” Marie answered politely. She was washing as fast as she could. Marie was afraid that she would say something she’d regret if she spent too much longer in Sarah’s presence.
“And how old are you?”
Marie turned to look and Sarah had a big smile on her face—a big ol’ phony smile. She was up to no good. Marie could feel it and was liking her less and less by the minute.
“I’m twenty-two.”
Marie studied the dishwater. She considered just leaving the rest of the dirty dishes soaking until later, when Mr. Carter had taken Sarah home. Marie did not want to be in the kitchen alone with her.
“I’m twenty-two also.” Sarah sounded too happy about that fact. “We’re the same age. We probably have a lot in common.”
At Sarah’s tone, Marie felt her stomach drop.
“Where did you go to school? Where do you get your hair done?”
Marie didn’t like where this was going.
“Have you considered getting it done in the latest style? Mine is. What do you think?” Sarah moved her head from side to side for Marie to get the full effect. “Have you seen some of the latest fashions at the dressmakers in town? They’re to die for!”
Marie knew what Sarah was doing and it was downright nasty. They were of a different class. Marie was of the working class. In fact, Marie was glad to be able to say that she was of the working class. She was grateful to have the job she had here.
But Sarah didn’t have to work and she was rubbing it in Marie’s face. Sarah could have her hair done and buy new dresses and spend the day reading the latest periodicals. She wasn’t nice, of that Marie was certain. And there was something else Marie was really sure about.
Sarah was definitely not good enough for Frank Carter.
Marie looked over her shoulder to see the smug smile on Sarah’s face and knew exactly what she wanted to do next.
She picked up a large pot from the supper dishes that she hadn’t washed yet, scooped up a good amount of dirty dishwater, then she quickly turned from the sink, took two steps toward the table and dumped the entire contents over Sarah’s head.
Frank was just reentering the kitchen as Sarah shrieked and Marie couldn’t keep the smile from her face. One look at Frank’s face, though, and her smile disappeared.
“What in tarnation is goin’ on here?” Frank boomed, looking from Marie to Sarah, then back to Marie. Frank focused on Marie. “Well?” Now Marie was sorry—Frank looked madder’n she had ever seen him. “I’m waiting, Marie.”
“I…I…” Marie had lost her voice in the face of Frank’s anger. Sarah found hers okay though.
“She…she…she dumped that dirty dishwater all over me! She’s probably ruined my dress. I want you to take the cost out of her pay, Frank!” Sarah was ranting. It was shrill and unbecoming; she had forgotten to be pleasing. “Are you listening to me, Frank? Frank!”
Frank’s eyes had never left Marie’s and she just couldn’t bear it. He was looking at her with great disappointment. Marie kept looking down then back up only to find him still looking at her with that same expression on his face. And completely ignoring Sarah.
Finally, Frank grabbed a clean dishtowel from the counter and turned to Sarah. He helped to dry her off a bit and then led her toward the parlor. She was still complaining to him, but he wasn’t answering her at all. He finished helping her dry off and then fetched her coat, helping her into it
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