Return to Eden

    As she hung the final towel to dry on the small line strung over the washbasin, Milli heaved a tired sigh. It had taken longer than usual to clean up after the dinner service tonight due in part to the almost full state of the hotel. The other reason for the late hour was that she had sent little Jules home early. Jules was helping with the morning’s breakfast service and that meant the painfully thin and frail 15 year old had to be in the kitchen stirring up Cooke’s fires by 4:30. Milli wished there was more she could do for Jules and her family. After Jules’ fisherman father had been lost at sea the spring before, the bulk of the responsibility for her ailing mother and 6 younger siblings had fallen squarely on her young shoulders. As often as Millis meager resources allowed, she left anonymous baskets of food on their front stoop. Nevertheless, Jules was still pulling double duties at the hotel in her effort to keep the family housed and fed. Milli sent her home early from kitchen duty as often as she could while still making sure Jules received her full wage.
    Milli had lifted her threadbare cloak from its peg near the kitchen door when the clock in the main dining room began to chime, as if she needed reminding of the late hour. She wrapped the cloak around her shoulders, took her bonnet strings in hand and turned to leave. This was always the hardest part of working the late kitchen shift. Cooke didn’t trust the kitchen help with a key to the rear door. Forced to lock it from the inside Milli had to slip out the main door instead. That meant going right past the main salon in the front hall. Most nights the people were so engrossed in their cards, liquor and ladies, that no one even noted her passing. Even so, apprehension always gripped her at the thought that the rich patrons crowding the salon might see her in her less than presentable work clothes.
    Taking a deep, fortifying breath, Milli stepped out of the dining room and closed the French doors behind her. There was no one in the main foyer but the sound of the pianoforte, loud voices, clinking glasses and laughter drifted to her from just down the hall. Her stomach fluttered nervously but she forced her feet forward anyway. As she neared the front door, she could see through the leaded glass panes that a thick, wet fog had rolled in off the Atlantic. That was normal for the Port city in late spring but it would mean a damp walk home for Milli. Slowing her steps, she tried to put her bonnet on only to realize that she had somehow knotted the ties together. Grumbling quietly her feet slowed to a full stop as she focused on loosening the tangled mess of frayed ribbons. She almost had the knots undone when the hair on the back of her neck rose.
    Milli’s hands stilled and she lifted her eyes. Her breath lodged in her chest as, across the distance of the smoke filled salon her gaze clashed with a pair of the blackest eyes she had ever seen. The stranger’s bold gaze never wavered as he was caught openly staring at her. She felt heat begin to creep up her neck, imagining his distaste at the picture she made standing there in the entry hall looking like some beggar. The least of her worries now, it seemed, were her threadbare cloak and bonnet with the frayed ribbons. Milli’s straight, thick hair was a drab brown that always slipped silkily from its pins. Many wisps had tugged free of her once tight chignon during the frantic dinner service and she had not had the energy to tuck them away earlier. The heat in the kitchen had dampened her face with beads of sweat that forced those wisps to curl and stick to her neck. She never wore her good dress when she was working in the kitchen, and this one had certainly seen better days. The faded yellow skirt was patched and stained in more than a few places. Worse still, since it had once belonged to her flighty step-mother, it was three seasons out of style and scandalously short. Being unfashionably tall and thin, Milli had needed to wield a pretty fancy needle to decently adjust the bodice for her own much smaller bosom. Despite sewing on an extra layer of lace that gave the hem length, the skirt still only came to Milli’s boot tops.
      She could feel the blush all the way to her exposed boots before the scrutinizing gaze of the stranger even began its leisurely journey of her shabbily clad form. To her shame, she felt her crimson mortification turn to a flush of excitement as his eyes slowly perused her. Although she was certain his visual examination of her held disdain, she couldn’t stop her traitorous heart from wishing it was of a more desirous nature. He seemed to take his time about it, lingering over the swell of her hips beneath her thin petticoat and exposed ankles. Working in the kitchen was so much hotter than serving in the dining room so she only wore one very thin petticoat on kitchen days.  His eyes began their slow journey back up her body and she felt as if they burned wherever they touched. It was almost as if he had stripped her bare right there in the entry hall and was running his hands over her skin instead of just his eyes. She felt as if a vice were squeezing all the air from her lungs as his eyes met hers again. The sensation felt so real that she almost gasped for breath. Milli’s heart began to pound so hard, she feared he could hear it across the distance of the salon. As she struggled to calm her racing pulse, she caught the slow, sensual smile that began to spread across his face. Obviously, he knew the effect he had on her. Although she was now outraged at his boldness, she still could not tear her gaze from his. Milli didn’t know how long she stood there, trapped in the sensual haze the stranger was spinning around her. Suddenly, one of the other patrons passed between them, setting her free of his intense, mocking gaze. She took a sudden, gasping breath and frantically turned toward the door. Her ice cold fingers blindly found the latch and she wrenched it open and dashed out into the chilly, mist shrouded night. She did not even notice she had dropped her bonnet in the entry hall until she was a block away from the hotel, bare headed in the thick, wet fog.