Biltmore Girl: Get the First Four Chapters Free

New York City, 1968. Elka Hansen, a former teen cover girl, is done with modeling. Now she’s a hostess for the Palm Court restaurant in the beautiful Biltmore Hotel. As she sees it, Elka’s other job is to watch out for her younger sister, Colleen, an idealistic but reckless college student at Barnard.

With her sister, Elka attends her first civil-rights protest, and there, she runs into Jacob Lewis, a co-worker from the Biltmore. He’s a student at Columbia University and a friend of Colleen’s. Jacob becomes an unexpected ally when rescuing her sister from trouble becomes more than Elka can handle independently. Out of this turmoil, a romance grows between Jacob and Elka, but can it last?

Please enjoy the first four chapters of Biltmore Girl:

Chapter One

New York City, New York

April, 1968

“Hey, you’re that girl …” The woman’s voice trailed off as she peered down her nose, squinting her eyes in scrutiny as she waved a bejeweled hand toward Elka. Her tone was more accusatory than friendly. 

Elka ignored the statement, pretending she didn’t hear. She forced a tight smile onto her face and picked up two menus. “Your table is ready, Mr. and Mrs. Smith. Jacob will be your waiter tonight.” She motioned for them to follow her. “Right this way, please.” 

She led the couple through the oak-paneled dining room toward table nine. Thankfully, the Smiths were the last reservation of the night. After working in the Palm Court that afternoon, Elka had volunteered to cover a shift in the Biltmore’s steak restaurant, the Guard Room. Due to illness, the regular host had bailed at the last minute. The extra money would be nice, but after ten hours on her feet, Elka was exhausted. 

When they reached the table, she pulled out a red leather chair for the woman and waited for her to sit down. Mrs. Smith, who appeared to be around Elka’s age—early-twenties—continued to stand. Smug satisfaction replaced her probing expression as she nudged her much-older husband with an elbow, then pointed. A similar scenario played out nearly every day. Elka knew what would come next.

“You’re Elka Hansen. You were on the cover of Seventeen—several times.” There was no point in denying it. Certainty beamed across the woman’s face. 

“Yes. That was a long time ago …” An acknowledgment and a simple deflection toward another topic usually were enough to steer most people away from talking about Elka’s past. 

“And now you’re working here? As a hostess?” The condescension dripped from Mrs. Smith’s voice. Then the woman laughed dismissively before sitting down and picking up her menu, a smirk remaining on her face. 

Elka, once again, ignored the woman, assuming her questions were rhetorical anyhow. It came with the territory. She tried to blend in, but people still recognized her. 

After winning a modeling contest at fourteen, Elka had gained steady work as a catalog model. In 1963, at the age of sixteen, she began landing covers on teen magazines. That was when her father moved the whole family from Pennsylvania to New York so Elka would be closer to her work. 

It had all been fun for a while, but Elka lost interest in modeling as she got older. Then the assignments tapered off and paid less. At eighteen, everything changed. She told her parents she wanted to quit modeling and go to college. They told her there was no money for school. 

Elka had been financing her family’s extravagant lifestyle the entire time they’d lived in New York. After that revelation, she’d remained close to her sister but not her parents. Her initial fury had subsided, but the hurt remained. Elka was on her own. Her parents had since moved to Connecticut, and she saw them only when necessary.

People seemed to expect a teenage “it” girl to lead a glamorous life, but Elka was no longer a teen, and the money she earned as a hostess at the Palm Court didn’t seem to cover much beyond her rent at Morgan Hall, the Y.W.C.A. dormitory nearby. Her current lifestyle was a disappointment to some, and it was a source of pity or amusement to others. Elka did her best to brush it all away. It didn’t matter what strangers thought. 

Besides, she liked her job. Until she figured out exactly what it was she wanted to do with her life, Elka was happy enough, right where she was. She worked in a beautiful hotel, and though she’d started as a coat-check girl in the Palm Court, she’d recently received a promotion to hostess, breaking down a boundary at the Biltmore. Until then, the hotel had only hired men to work the dining rooms. 

Mr. Smith, to his credit, seemed embarrassed by his wife’s rude comments. He cleared his throat before giving Elka an apologetic smile. “Thank you, miss.” He took his seat. 

Elka gave a curt nod, handed over a menu, and quickly spun away on her heel, colliding into Jacob, who’d been standing behind her with a glass water pitcher. The waiter raised his arm gracefully, preventing any impact and further embarrassment from a spill. How much had he overheard? 

“Pardon me.” Elka avoided eye contact as her face heated. It was probably as red as the uniform jacket he wore. It was time to go home. As she walked away, Elka overheard Mrs. Smith’s words.

“And to think, I once wanted to be like her. Oh, my, how the tables have turned!” A shriek soon followed those haughty words. 

Erika spun around to see the cause of the commotion. Mrs. Smith’s glass of water had somehow ended up soaking the front of her dress. Jacob jumped into action to help clean up the mess, but he threw Elka a glance,  and a flash of mischief flickered across his handsome face. 

***

The following morning a loud buzzing sound interrupted Elka’s dream. Her hand reached out from the covers and slammed down on the snooze button without opening her eyes. Then she pulled the blanket back over her head. She had the next two days off and had slept late, but she needed to get up soon. Colleen would be waiting for her. 

On Mondays, Elka took the subway from midtown to upper Manhattan to see her sister. They usually met for lunch at Finnigan’s, a diner on 115th and Broadway. She was proud of her younger sister, a mathematics major on full scholarship at Barnard, and always looked forward to their time together. 

This morning, Elka was having a hard time rousing herself. I’ll just throw my hair into a ponytail. That will give me a few more minutes of sleep. 

When the alarm buzzed again, she hit the clock radio for the final time and switched on the music. Joni Mitchell’s “Both Sides Now” played. Elka loved the song and began humming along as she climbed out of bed. Moving aside the lace curtain hung above the desk, she opened her window and gazed down on the street below. 

A warm breeze carried the aroma of fresh bagels from the deli across the street. The city was already awake—yellow cabs blasted their horns, and pedestrians moved about the crowded sidewalks like busy ants. Elka grabbed her pink chenille robe and pushed her feet into the matching slippers. Then she stepped out of her room and into the hallway, journeying toward the bathroom she shared with the other women on her floor. Most of them were already at work. At this hour, at least there wouldn’t be a line to use the shower. 

Forty-five minutes later, Elka rode the subway, absorbed in a story from the New York Times—another clash in Saigon—casualties on both sides. When the train stopped at the 116th Street station, she folded it up and stuffed it into her straw bag. Colleen was waiting for her when she walked up the stairs and onto the street. 

“Hey—” Colleen’s long dark hair bounced in loose waves around her shoulders as she hopped off the pony wall where she’d been sitting. She sported a black beret, identical to the one Elka wore. Thick, black-rimmed glasses rested low on the bridge of her nose, giving her the appearance of a child playing dress-up. 

Colleen, who attended Barnard, was a young college student at eighteen, but her petite size and a smattering of freckles across her pert nose made her seem even younger. Elka was taller than her sister and didn’t need glasses, but other than those minor differences, looking at Colleen was almost like staring into a mirror. 

“Hey, Bugs! How’s school?” Elka grinned and waved. The nickname came from her younger sister’s love of cartoons—in particular, Bugs Bunny. As a girl, Elka had always enjoyed sleeping late when given a chance, but Colleen had rarely let that happen, insisting her older sister get up and watch early morning cartoons with her on Saturday mornings. 

“School is going well. I have something to tell you, but let’s wait ’till we get to Finnigan’s.” Colleen slung her book bag over her shoulder and began walking in the direction of the restaurant. 

Fifteen minutes later, the sisters had already placed their lunch orders and were drinking coffee in their favorite booth by the window. Colleen reached into her bag, pulled out a flyer, and pushed it across the table toward Elka. The headline at the top of the paper read, “Stop Columbia’s Gym Crow.” 

Elka read more, discovering the play on words referred to the new gym the university planned to build on land donated by the city. The property came from Morningside Park in Harlem. The nearby residents would lose much of their already limited green space, and the gym would be primarily restricted to Columbia students. A community group was petitioning against what they called a land grab. The flyer stated that the Sundial Rally would be held on Tuesday, April 23, at noon. 

Elka could feel Colleen’s eyes boring into her, waiting for her to finish reading. When Elka finally glanced up from the paper, her sister leaned across the table and took a deep breath.  

“So, do you want to come back tomorrow and go to the rally with me?” Colleen asked, her tone sounding hopeful. 

Elka admired her sister’s activism and her passion for civil rights but the protests and rallies could also be dangerous. Elka didn’t pray often, but when she did, requests were frequently related to her sister’s safety. If she saw injustice, Colleen was more likely to run toward rather than away from the action. The city was still on edge from Martin Luther King Jr.’s assassination only three weeks ago. Who knew what could happen? Elka wanted to protect her sister. 

“Okay, I’ll come.” The words escaped her lips before Elka even had a chance to think about them. 

***

Elka moved over and made room on the seat for the old lady who’d boarded the subway on Seventy-Second Street. The woman, who smelled like peppermint, gave Elka a slight nod, then pulled a paperback novel out of a canvas tote and began reading. The lady didn’t even look up when three men walked through their car, loudly singing, “Runaround Sue.” They harmonized with impressive skill. When one of them held out his hat, Elka reached over and dropped a dime into it. That’s when she spotted Jacob, the waiter from work. 

He sat across the aisle and two seats in front of her. How had she not noticed Jacob there before? It was definitely him. There was no mistaking that strong jawline. Elka had never seen him wearing anything but his red waiter’s uniform. Today he wore blue jeans and a black turtleneck sweater, and his dark hair was casually mussed instead of carefully styled with pomade, which was the way he wore it at work.  A pretty blonde girl sat next to him. Probably his girlfriend. 

Since they usually worked in different parts of the hotel, Elka didn’t know much about Jacob. She’d only talked to him a couple of times, but over the past day or two, her mind kept wandering back to the incident with the spilled water. Did he do it on purpose? For her? She wondered where he lived and where he was going right now. 

The pretty girl got off on 110th Street. So did the old lady. Jacob remained, but he still hadn’t looked back or noticed her. When the train arrived at her stop, Jacob stood. Was he a student at Columbia? On the platform, they came face-to-face. 

His smile, upon recognition of Elka, was friendly. “Hey, Elka! How are you? Finally got a day off, huh? What are you doing all the way out here?” His steps fell in line with Elka’s, and he walked up the stairs with her. 

“I’m meeting my sister. She’s a student at Barnard. What about you?”

“Hmm, I’m at Columbia. Which way are you going?”

“The library. There’s a rally today—”

“Well, that’s where I’m going. Mind if I walk with you?” 

Did she mind? Why did she feel like she had butterflies in her stomach? Elka felt an unfamiliar awkward feeling. Was it because Jacob was cute? She’d spent time with plenty of good-looking guys. What was wrong with her?

“Of course not. I’m glad we ran into each other.” Elka smiled, doing her best to appear relaxed. When she saw Colleen walking toward them, Elka took a deep breath to center herself. Today wasn’t going to be about flirting with cute guys. There was a deeper purpose to why she’d come—and she’d best remember that. 

Chapter Two

“Jacob … good to see you!” Colleen said, just as Elka was about to introduce them. 

How did Colleen know Jacob? Elka jerked her head back, and her sister laughed. “Wait, you two know each other?” 

Jacob reached out his hand and gave Colleen a high five. “Elka and I both work at the Biltmore. And I take it you both know each other too.” They were standing in the middle of a busy sidewalk, and pedestrians having to maneuver around them expressed irritation in various forms—grunts, glares, and bumps. “Okay, don’t tell me … you’re sisters! Right? Hansen. Aha!” Jacob grinned. “I don’t know why I didn’t put that together sooner. You certainly look alike.” 

Elka could hear someone shouting over a bullhorn in the distance, though the words were hard to make out. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and smiled. “Hey, sis.” Then she hugged Colleen to move her to the side of the sidewalk. “I think we’re blocking traffic.”

“Thanks for coming, Elka.” Colleen made a motion for Elka to follow her, and they started walking toward the library. “I think we first met at an SDS meeting last winter. Is that right, Jacob?”   

“Yes, I think that’s right.” Jacob fished out a pack of spearmint gum from his satchel and took a piece. Then he offered it to the girls. “Want some?”

Elka nodded and held out her hand. “Thank you. What’s SDS?” As they got closer to the library, the crowd became denser. The air seemed to crackle with tension.

“Students for a Democratic Society. It’s about anti-war stuff and civil rights issues, like this.” Jacob waved an arm toward the sundial ahead.

A tall skinny guy wearing a Columbia Crew team sweatshirt walked over to their group. He seemed to know Colleen and Jacob. “The library is locked,” he said. “The demonstration has moved to Morningside Park.” The guy glanced at Elka and smiled. Then he held out his hand. “Hi, I’m Chase.”

“Elka. Nice to meet you. We’re going to the building site for the gym?” Elka asked. Chase nodded. 

People in the area began shouting, “Gym Crow must go!” Counterdemonstrators were mixed in with the crowd too. Angry, intimidating young men hurled insults toward other students.

“Go home, pukes!” one burly man shouted.

“Ignore those jocks,” Chase said. “They just want to stir up trouble.” 

Elka moved closer to her sister, who was now chanting with the group. The chanting wasn’t Elka’s thing, and she felt awkward. She looped her arm with Colleen’s, feeling protective. They were now part of the crowd and moving in the direction of what, Elka assumed, was the building site. There must have been about five hundred students walking with them at this point. 

By the time they reached the park, Elka and Colleen had lost track of Jacob and Chase. The excavation site was a massive and ugly scar that cut through the park. A chain-link barrier surrounded the dirt hole. A few students started to climb the fences, but four policemen stopped them. Elka couldn’t see everything that was happening ahead, but she could hear people screaming, and she saw one kid being taken away in handcuffs. This wasn’t what she’d expected at all. 

The tension continued to mount until, finally, a voice over a bullhorn spoke out. The crowd quieted. “That’s Mark Rudd,” Colleen whispered. “He’s the president of SDS here at Columbia.” 

Even though she tried hard to listen, Elka still couldn’t make out what he was saying. She was getting hungry, so to keep her mind off her empty stomach, Elka occupied herself by observing the people around her. They didn’t fit any single stereotype other than most appeared to be young students. Some of them held signs, while others like her, lent nothing more than their presence to the demonstration.

After some time, Rudd told the group of five hundred at the park to go back to the sundial to join up with more students. Elka searched the crowd to see if she could spot Jacob. She located him in the distance with Chase, but now they were moving again, and it was impossible to do anything except go with the flow. 

Back at the sundial in front of Lowe Library, the crowd had grown. They’d gained the attention of the administration. Accompanied by police officers, several older people, who appeared to be faculty members, made their way toward Mark Rudd, the man with the megaphone. Minutes later, it appeared as if they were negotiating with him. 

Elka had been on her feet for at least three hours now. She should have worn something other than sandals and a short dress. Why didn’t her sister tell her what to wear? “Come on, let’s find a place to sit,” she said to her sister.

Colleen, who seemed more comfortable in blue jeans and sneakers, responded by plopping down right on the pavement in the middle of the walkway. The other activists who were around them did the same. Were they accomplishing anything with this demonstration? Elka wasn’t sure, but she was glad she came. She believed in the cause, and wanted to support her sister. Until they found out what was happening next, there was nothing to do but wait. 

“Hey, there’s Jacob and Chase, over there.” Colleen pointed toward the grass strip in front of the library. “The lawn will be more comfortable. Let’s join them.” She stood and began moving, making a path through the crowd. Elka followed. 

Jacob waved when he saw Elka and Colleen coming toward him. He made room for the girls to sit. “So, I heard the plan now is that we’re taking the demonstration inside, to Hamilton Hall.” 

The afternoon was getting away from her. Elka hadn’t planned on spending the whole day at Columbia. She still needed to go to the laundromat if she wanted to have a clean uniform when she went to work in the morning. Maybe now would be a good time to bow out and go home. Colleen would be okay staying with Chase and Jacob. “Hey, Colleen, I think I might go now. Do you mind?”

“Of course not! Thanks for coming. I’ll call you tomorrow and fill you in on whatever you missed.” Colleen reached over and hugged Elka.

“Jacob, I’ll see you around.” Elka waved. “Chase, it was good to meet you.”

“Don’t be a stranger. Thanks for coming out and supporting our cause,” Chase said.

Jacob stood. “I’ll walk you back to the station.” 

Elka nodded, grateful for the offer. “Thank you.” She tried to ignore the teasing wink her sister gave her and hoped Jacob didn’t see. It wasn’t like that. Jacob was a coworker, and that was all. 

***

Elka paused in front of the revolving doors and looked up at the Biltmore stretching twenty-six stories into the sky, magnificent and stately. A breath caught in her chest for a moment. Beautiful buildings did that to her. She smiled and waved at Hank, one of the doormen on duty, and continued walking toward the service entrance farther down the block. 

After five years of living in Manhattan, Elka finally considered herself a real New Yorker. The city was a part of her. She’d seen just about everything, and not much caused her to bat an eye anymore. Strolling or stopping in the middle of the sidewalk to gawk at the scenery was a tourist move, and Elka knew better, but sometimes, she couldn’t help herself. It never got old. The pleasure of living and working amid such stunning beauty and art was a gift. 

Once inside the building, Elka rushed to the employee elevator that led to the women’s locker room on the top floor. Her shift at the Palm Court started at 11:00 a.m. sharp. It was already 10:50. Mr. Barrows, her boss, did not abide tardiness. The locker room was empty. Thank goodness, because there wasn’t time for chitchat. After slipping out of her street clothes and into the mod black and white shift that was her uniform, Elka shoved her belongings into her locker. A glance in the mirror, a swipe of red lipstick, and she was ready to go downstairs. 

The gold-figured clock in the lobby read 10:58. 

“Good morning, Miss Hanson.” Mr. Barrows eyed Elka sternly, then nodded toward the clock. “Cutting it a little close this morning?”

“Good morning, Mr. Barrows. I apologize—” 

Her boss simply nodded and continued on his way toward the front desk. He could be gruff, but Elka liked the old gentleman. She knew his salty demeanor was merely a cover. Underneath that was a soft heart. He’d given her a chance by making her the first female hostess at the Biltmore, and for that, Elka was grateful. She’d moved up from checking the minks, chinchillas, Yorkies, and pugs of the ladies who lunched to taking their reservations and seating them. A few gentlemen dined in the Palm Court as well, but not many. Most of them went to the Men’s Bar in the hotel. 

Elka’s new job came with a surprising amount of power—discretion and a thorough knowledge of New York society’s hierarchy were absolute requirements. Though Mr. Barrows was the maitre’d in name, he delegated many of his responsibilities to Elka, and everyone knew it. It was a delicate tightrope to walk, knowing who to place at the most sought-after tables and which names took precedence with the hard-to-get reservations. The social climbers often tipped better than the queen bees, as they wanted to get into her good graces. Still, Elka had the restaurant’s reputation to balance against her financial interests. If she let in too many climbers, the overall desirability of being seen at the Palm Court would diminish. 

At her podium, Elka moved the phone and opened the black leather-bound book that held the reservations. Names like Onassis, Astor, Javitz, and Stein filled the pages. Who were the guests today? Which of the waitstaff was working? These questions were important. 

The guests often requested specific waiters, particularly Jacques. He was undeniably handsome and charming, hence his popularity, but he couldn’t take care of the whole room. And then, of course, the waiters all knew who the best tippers were, so naturally, they wanted Elka to place those guests at their tables. When she did, they often rewarded her with a share of their tips. Every little bit helped. Living in New York wasn’t cheap. Being a person who guests and staff alike sought favors from made Elka’s position both enjoyable and enviable. She had no complaints, except for the high heels she had to wear. Her shift had barely begun, yet even now, she could feel her feet protesting as the pointy toe box squeezed them tight.

Soon the phone would start ringing, and the first guests would begin arriving. But for now, the Palm Court remained quiet. Elka gazed around the grand room, seeking anything that might be out of place. Everything was perfect. The silver and the Baccarat stemware sparkled, artfully folded linen napkins awaited, and exquisite peony centerpieces added soft elegance to the tables. The star jewels of the room were the brass chandeliers hanging from the glass vaulted ceiling. The light, airy, feminine place of luxurious refinement felt a far cry from the dirty construction site at the park where Elka had spent the better part of yesterday. That thought led to more concerning the event. 

How had the demonstration gone? Would she see Jacob again? She rarely saw him at work.

Elka pushed all thoughts of aching feet, demonstrations, and Jacob aside as the Palm Court came to life. The lunch crowd was arriving now, fresh from the beauty salon. It was like a fashion show—Dior, Chanel, Oscar de la Renta, Saint Laurent. These ladies were always prepared for the swarm of photographers waiting outside the Biltmore’s doors. 

For the next few hours, Elka was wholly absorbed in meeting her customers’ needs. High maintenance was the name of the game with these people, and Lady Westingford was today’s prime example. The woman was a former actress, not an aristocrat. Nevertheless, she insisted on using the title. She came in around noon with a couple of friends and proceeded to send her soup back three times, claiming it wasn’t hot enough. She also complained that her ice water wasn’t cold enough. Marco, her waiter, was exceedingly patient and accommodated all her demands. Yet when Lady Westingford left, instead of a tip, she left behind her autograph. After that, Elka had to sweet-talk poor Marco into staying. He was so angry he’d threatened to walk out in the middle of his shift. 

By four o’clock, with the last of the tables cleared out, Elka was ready for her break. She decided to use one of the pay phones in the lobby to call her sister. Colleen was usually in her room at this time. Not today. Nothing but ringing. A smidge of worry clawed at the back of Elka’s mind. Maybe the newspaper will have something to say about the demonstration at Columbia. There were always papers laying around upstairs in the employee lounge. 

After she stepped out of the elevator, Elka took off her heels and carried them as she made her way to the break room. That felt good. The top two floors of the hotel were for employees only. Some of them lived here. The demand for these rooms was high, which was why Elka was still on the waiting list. 

She took a shortcut through the pool area, not seeing the puddle of water on the floor until it was too late, and she slipped. As Elka lunged forward and tried to catch herself, she put her foot down and felt a sickening snap around her ankle.

Ouch! Why am I so clumsy? The lounge was just down the hallway. I’ll put some ice on it, and it will be fine. But when she tried to put weight on her right foot, a sharp pain shot through her entire body. 

Chapter Three

Jacob Lewis hoped the employee lounge would be empty. He needed some uninterrupted study time before his shift started. There wasn’t any need to be downstairs for another forty-five minutes, and his books were here, ready to crack open. Whenever he could—on the subway or during breaks at work—Jacob took advantage of nearly every opportunity he had to fit in schoolwork. It was his last term before law school. If he got into law school. He was still waiting to find out. If he didn’t get in, well, Jacob didn’t want to even think about that. He’d probably need to go to Viet Nam. Staying in school was a way to avoid the draft, but graduation was in just a few weeks. 

Last night, Jacob would ordinarily have been in his dorm room, studying, but instead, he’d been at Hamilton Hall. The previous day’s demonstration at his school had turned into a sit-in, and then, an occupation. He’d stuck around until close to five-thirty in the morning, which was when the group had splintered. There had been some tension over the students’ different purposes for being there. 

The Student Afro-American Society (SAS) wanted to stay focused on their original goal—protesting the new gym. They asked everyone else, many of whom were there to protest the war, and Columbia’s involvement, to leave Hamilton Hall. Jacob knew some of the newly evicted students were planning to occupy some of the other buildings at Columbia and continue protesting, but he couldn’t afford to miss class or work. 

The split had been his cue to leave. Now, after thirty-plus hours of being awake, Jacob was dog-tired. Only multiple cups of strong coffee, and some equally strong determination, were keeping him on his feet. He just hoped he’d be able to remember his customers’ dinner orders tonight. 

Only one person occupied the lounge when Jacob entered. She was standing on one foot, getting ice cubes out of the freezer. When Elka turned toward him, Jacob decided he could put off studying a bit longer. 

She gave him a weak smile. “Oh, hey, Jacob …” Elka seemed to grimace with pain as she put the ice into a bag, then she limped over to the couch. 

“What happened? Are you hurt?” Dumb question. She couldn’t even walk. 

“I’ll be okay. I was clumsy, and I slipped on a step. After I ice my ankle, I should be fine.” Elka winced as she put the bag of ice on her right ankle that was already taking on a purplish hue. 

“Is there anything I can do for you? Maybe you should go to the hospital and have that checked out—”

“No, no—” Elka looked at the clock on the wall, then frowned. Then she tried to put her shoe on. Her foot was too swollen. It wasn’t going to happen. There was no way it was going to fit. She sighed, then finally conceded. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to finish my shift tonight.”

“No, I don’t think so either.” Jacob wanted to help, but he wasn’t sure how. There was something about Elka that brought out the protective, older-brother side of him. Or was it more than that? She was a sweet girl and undeniably gorgeous, with deep-chocolate-brown eyes that seemed to hold a hint of sadness. He’d heard the rumors about her having been some kind of famous model, but her friendly, easy-going personality made her approachable. And based on her presence at yesterday’s protest, Jacob surmised that she was more than just a pretty face. She cared about social justice for one thing. 

“I guess I should call Mr. Barrows and let him know what happened.” Elka got off the couch and hopped on one foot toward the phone on the wall. Jacob nodded, then fished around in his book bag for Tylenol. When he found the bottle, he put it on the coffee table and moved toward the sink to get her some water. How was she going to get home if she couldn’t walk?

After Elka finished her phone call, she hopped back toward the couch. She smiled when she saw the Tylenol. “Thank you.” 

Jacob handed Elka a glass of water. “No problem. Do you have a way to get home—other than hopping?”

“I live close. I’ll be fine. Between the Tylenol and the ice, I’m sure I can make it after a few minutes of resting. I have a different pair of shoes in my locker.” Elka glared at the high heels on the floor with an air of distaste.

“Let me help you. At least let me call a cab.” Jacob checked the clock. He still had a few minutes to spare.

“That’s kind of you, but I promise I’ll be okay.” Elka reached for the newspaper laying on the coffee table. “So, what happened yesterday at Columbia after I left?”

Jacob told Elka about his sleepless night and the sit-in at Hamilton Hall. He explained how some students had trapped Dean Coleman inside his office for a time and said the group separated in the morning, only to go on to occupy even more buildings. He finished by explaining how he wished he could have stayed. “I think they’re in for the long haul. If this is what it takes to get their attention ...”

Elka’s face turned white. “Do you know if my sister stayed? I tried calling her, and she didn’t answer.”

“She might have been with the group that went to Low Library. Do you want me to check on her?” 

“Yes, please. I’d appreciate it. I’m all for the cause, but I worry about Colleen.” 

“I get it. I have two younger sisters myself. They’re both in Seattle.”

“Is that where you’re from, Seattle?” Elka asked.

Jacob nodded. “Born and raised there. How about you? Where are you from?” 

“Pittsburgh. I moved here when I was sixteen.” Elka took the ice bag off her ankle and inspected her foot. “I’m going to go change out of my work clothes and make my way home. It was nice chatting with you. I’m sure this ankle will feel better in the morning. I plan on being at work tomorrow. If you get word of my sister, would you mind stopping by the Palm Court and letting me know?” She moved to get off the couch, but when she tried to put weight on her right foot, she gasped in pain.

Jacob jumped up and offered Elka his arm. “Here, lean on me. I’ll go downstairs with you and help you get a cab.” This time, she didn’t argue. 

***

The view from Jacob’s second-floor single at Livingston Hall overlooked the Van Am Quadrangle. It was a beautiful spring day, and though it was still early, the campus was already beginning to awaken. Students walked on the paths below. From here, it seemed like a regular Thursday, but Jacob knew it wasn’t. Would there be classes today? He still had an hour before he needed to be at Philosophy Hall. 

After returning from work last night, three gruff law officers had blocked the pathway onto campus, asking for his identification. Jacob first had to prove he had a right to be there before being allowed back to his dorm. This kind of thing had never happened before, and it left him feeling unsettled. According to Michael, his buddy across the hall, not only were students still occupying Low and Hamilton, but more of them had moved into Avery Hall as well. 

He’d promised Elka to check on her sister, Colleen, so he’d walk over to the library and see what he could find out. Thinking about Elka made him smile. His job at the Biltmore was more fun now. He relished the possibility of running into the new hostess from the Palm Court. Hopefully, her recent injury wouldn’t keep her away for too long. 

Before exiting his building, he stopped by the post office boxes to see if he had any mail. The sight of one white envelope, with a return address that included Columbia Law, made Jacob’s heart race. His hand was shaky as he hurriedly tore into the paper, ripping the letter out as fast as he could. 

Dear Mr. Lewis: 

We regret to inform you …

Jacob crumpled the letter in frustration, his good mood vanished. He hadn’t yet received replies from Seattle University, NYU, or Gonzaga—the other three law schools he’d applied to—but this first rejection stung, and his confidence had taken a hit. Would his school be on the east or the west coast? Jacob wanted to stay in New York, but any option sounded better than Nam.

“Hey, Jacob, did you get breakfast yet? I was just on my way to the dining hall—” Michael, standing nearby, interrupted his thoughts.

Jacob shoved the letter into his satchel. Usually, he skipped breakfast in favor of a few extra minutes of sleep, but the idea occurred to him that one way to support the cause of his friends who were protesting would be to take them some food. They must be hungry, and delivering food would provide an excellent excuse to check on Colleen. Jacob looked at Michael, who was still waiting for an answer. Maybe he’d be willing to help. “No, I haven’t. I’ll come with you.” 

Michael, who was wearing a mysterious green armband, led the way. As they walked toward the dining hall, Jacob noticed several other students wearing armbands—some red, some blue, others green like Michael’s. 

“What’s that about?” Jacob pointed toward his friend’s arm.

“Oh, the armband?” Michael grinned. “Man, you missed out on a lot while you were at work yesterday. Green means I want amnesty for the protestors.”

Jacob nodded. “And what do the other colors mean?”

“Red is what the protestors are wearing. Blue means you’re against the protestors. Some of the faculty are wearing white armbands. They want a peaceful resolution. And black? I’m not sure what that color means.” 

“Ah, ha.” They were outside the dining hall now. The smell of burnt coffee wafting from the building assaulted Jacob’s nostrils. If he wanted good coffee, he’d need to go elsewhere. But maybe he could talk Ida, the cashier, into sending a few extra pieces of fruit and some donuts with him. Through the window, Jacob could see the older woman at her usual station.

“Let me see what I can do, honey.” Ida smiled and gave Jacob’s hand a maternal pat after listening to his request. “Go on, eat your breakfast, but come back and see me again before you leave.”

A few minutes later, when he returned, Ida had packed two brown paper bags with food for him to take. “Take it all. It’s on the house,” she said, smiling. “Just some old leftovers ...”

“This is very generous. Thank you.” Jacob smiled back. Ida’s kindness was like an injection of hope.

Michael had to get to his first class of the day, so Jacob schlepped the groceries to Low Library by himself. He wasn’t sure if Colleen would be there or how he would get the food to the protestors inside. Would they just let him walk inside like a delivery boy? How did this kind of thing work? 

A police cordon surrounded the front of Low Library. Jacob felt momentarily defeated, but then he decided to walk around to the side of the building. It was clear. 

“Jacob!” a voice called to him. It was Chase, leaning out the window from the second story. 

“You hungry? I brought food.” Jacob got straight to the point. He was going to be late for his first class if he didn’t hurry. “How can I get these bags to you?” 

A voice spoke from behind. “Here, I’ll take them inside. Thanks, man!” 

Jacob turned to see a skinny kid with a mop of red hair standing near him. He looked up toward Chase, who nodded with approval. Jacob handed over the bags and watched as the kid proceeded to climb through an open window on the first floor, just as naturally as if he’d been using the front door. 

“Hey, Chase, is Colleen Hansen in there?” Jacob asked his friend. 

“Yeah, she’s right here.” 

Just then, Colleen appeared at the window and waved to Jacob. She gave him a thumbs up. He returned the gesture. Good. She was okay—for now. But what was the plan in all this? How would it end?

Chapter Four

Elka tried to call her sister again on Thursday morning. Still no answer. Hanging up the phone, she let out a deep sigh. Colleen was always in her room at this early hour, usually still asleep. If she wasn’t there now, then it was logical to assume she hadn’t slept there last night. And if that was the case, Elka was sure that Colleen was with the protesters occupying several Columbia buildings. 

Admiration, combined with fear over her sister’s current situation, made Elka shiver— or maybe it was the breeze coming from the open window at the end of the hallway. She limped over and closed it. Colleen had strong ideals and was selfless, continually doing good things for other people with little regard for the consequences. Elka wished she could be more carefree and idealistic like that. 

Instead, her personality was practical, and she worried about boring things, like paying the rent and keeping her sister out of trouble. Elka felt aimless. What did she want to do with her life? She loved her sister too much to be jealous, but it would be nice to have a stronger sense of purpose like Colleen seemed to have.

 Colleen was probably okay right now. Maybe her sister didn’t need her “help.” Their parents didn’t seem to be concerned with how either of them was faring. They’d become hands-off parents as soon as any financial or social benefits that came from being involved in their daughters’ lives had ceased. Elka’s feelings toward them vacillated between hurt and anger, but she did her best to push those feelings away, as she did now. There were other matters to ponder. 

Her sore ankle had made the short walk from her room to use the phone challenging. It couldn’t be broken—probably just swollen. When she’d gone to sleep last night, Elka had hoped her injury would be better in the morning. She couldn’t miss work. More accurately, she couldn’t miss the paycheck that came from working. Maybe Mr. Barrows would be able to move her to another job in the hotel that didn't require so much walking? She hoped so. Hurrying back to her room, Elka decided to go to work early and talk with her boss. She was at the mercy of Mr. Barrows, and she’d need his favor to keep her job. 

Elka finished getting ready. As she brushed her hair, she thought about Jacob’s kindness, helping her downstairs and into a cab last night. He was charming, a real gentleman. They were coworkers, but they’d never even had a conversation until last week, but somehow, over these past few days, he’d come to her rescue several times. Though she’d been in pain and embarrassed at her clumsiness, Jacob’s attention toward her had been a bright spot in what would have, otherwise, been a terrible evening. 

Elka left through the front doors of Morgan Hall ten minutes later and hailed a cab. It was a splurge with her tight budget, but what else could she do? It wasn’t far to the Biltmore, and there was no point in being a martyr, at least not yet. New York is a walking city. I cannot afford to be hobbling around for long. Oh, what am I going to do?

Mr. Barrows was in his office when Elka arrived. The door was ajar, and she could see that he was reading a newspaper at his desk. She gave a little knock. “Mr. Barrows? May I speak with you?” 

He put the paper down and waved her in. The room was fastidiously tidy, much like its primary occupant, and furnished with a few well-chosen antiques—a mahogany desk, a matching bookshelf, and two dark green leather swivel chairs. A large window behind her boss’s desk framed a view of Grand Central Terminal across the street. 

“Miss Hansen, come in, have a seat. How’s the ankle?” Mr. Barrows frowned as he watched Elka limp into his office. “Should you be walking on that? Have you seen a doctor?” 

“I think it will be fine in a few days, but I’m not sure I’ll be able to work my shift in the Palm Court …” Elka didn’t want to admit that she had no way to pay for a doctor’s visit. 

“No, I think not. Don’t worry about that. I’ll find someone to cover you.” Mr. Barrows opened a drawer in his desk and shuffled some items around until he found what he was searching for—a business card. He handed it to Elka. “Dr. Peterson has an office just around the corner. Tell him I sent you. The hotel will cover any expenses since you were hurt here at work.”

Technically, she’d been on a break, but why argue? “Thank you.” Elka tucked the card into the purse on her lap. She hesitated and cleared her throat. “Mr. Barrows … is there anywhere else in the hotel I could work … in the meantime … while my ankle is healing, a place where I wouldn’t need to be on my feet so much?”

 “I’ll look into it. Maybe Ms. Anton could use your help at the front desk. Go, get that ankle checked out, see what the doctor says, and come back here when you’re done. We’ll take it from there.” 

Elka smiled with gratitude and stood to leave. “You’re very kind.” She couldn’t imagine any former employers from her modeling days being so accommodating.

“You’re a Biltmore Girl, and here, we take care of our own.” 

***

Getting an X-ray and then a cast on her foot had taken much longer than Elka had anticipated. Broken ... six weeks were not the words she’d wanted to hear from Dr. Peterson. It was nearly two in the afternoon, and hunger pains gnawed at her. She’d already skipped breakfast. These crutches were going to take some getting used to. How was she going to carry her tray at the automat? There was only one way to find out. 

Elka walked into Horn and Hardart and surveyed the wall of vending machines. Baked goods, pies, sandwiches, each section was marked with a sign overhead. Elka leaned her crutches against the wall, out of the way, then hobbled over to an area where thick pieces of dark chocolate cake beckoned from behind the individual glass doors. She stood awkwardly on one leg as she reached for her purse, searched for a nickel, put it in a slot, and got her treat. A sandwich would have been sensible, but a piece of chocolate cake was sometimes necessary to turn a bad day around. 

“Please, let me help you, miss,” An older man with a gentle smile and eyes that twinkled stood next to her. “Where’s your table? I’ll carry that for you.”

Accepting help from strangers was another thing she was going to have to get used to. “Thank you. I was just going to sit over there.” Elka pointed to a table nearby with two empty chairs. She handed him her plate, and he set it on his tray next to his pie. He seemed to be alone. “You’re welcome to join me if you like.”

“Don’t mind if I do, thank you. I was going to get some coffee to go with my pie. May I get some for you too?” He was a sweet man. 

Twenty pleasant minutes passed too quickly as Elka and Mr. Sawyer sat together in the automat, chatting about everything and nothing in particular. Elka learned that he was a retired police officer and a recent widower. It was with genuine regret when she glanced at the clock on the wall and realized it was time to get back to the Biltmore. “I hope I’ll see you around again sometime soon.” She smiled at the gentleman. 

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Elka. Hold on. I’ll get your crutches for you.”

Bolstered by a little kindness, sugar, and caffeine, Elka made her way back outside to Forty-Second Avenue. 

Elka was grateful when she entered the Biltmore’s lobby and spotted Mr. Barrows near the concierge desk. She wouldn’t have to search for him. The lunch crowd was probably tapering off at this hour in the Palm Court. She wondered who was covering her shift. 

Mr. Barrows glanced her way, taking in the cast and crutches. “Ah, Miss Hansen, there you are. Broken?” She nodded. He frowned in commiseration. “Well, Ms. Anton can use your help at the front desk. You’ll be able to stay in one place, at least. Though, I’ll miss having you in the Palm Court.” He straightened his tie. “Talk to her. She’ll get you started.”

Elka approached the front desk. Ms. Anton, her new boss, was helping a customer, so Elka chose a silk settee to rest on while she waited. 

Jacob spotted her and sauntered over. “Elka, how are you? I was looking for you in the Palm Court.” 

“Oh, well, here I am. I’ll be working at the front desk for the next few weeks while this heals.” She pointed to her cast.

“You’re a tough one … walking on that injury. Broken?”

“Yes, unfortunately. It’s an inconvenient time.” Elka brushed her hand through the air as if attempting to sweep away the problem itself. “Did you find out any news about my sister?”

Jacob nodded and sat next to Elka. “I saw her this morning. She’s with the group at Low Library.” He gave her a reassuring smile and touched her hand. “Hey, she seemed happy to be there. She was with friends. She’s okay—don’t worry.”

“Aha, well … thank you.” This wasn’t the right place to be having this particular conversation, and Ms. Anton was ready to see her now. Elka moved her crutches in preparation to get up. 

“Here, let me help you.” Jacob stood, then offered his hand to assist her in standing. They were close only for a brief moment, but as she took his hand, Elka noticed a subtly woodsy scent to his cologne. It was nice. “I’d like to talk some more. I’ll find you at a better time.” 

Elka nodded. She wanted to know more about what was going on at Columbia. “That’d be good. I’d like that. I’ll see you around.” She smiled. 

Jacob waved goodbye and walked over to the bank of elevators. Elka made her way over to the other side of the room to speak with her new boss. Ms. Anton, the front desk manager, wore her gray hair in a severe bun. A pair of wire-rimmed glasses with a chain attached to them and a black blazer added to an overall appearance that said librarian. A ready smile and a pink rose pinned on her lapel softened the look and made her more approachable. 

“Ah, Miss Hansen. I hear you’re joining my team for the time being. Welcome!” Ms. Anton said. Over the next few minutes, the woman gave Elka a quick overview of her new job, and she learned that she could start the next day at 7:00 a.m. Relief came over Elka, as one part of the burden she’d been carrying today had been lifted. 

After Elka said goodbye to Ms. Anton, she glanced at the big clock in the lobby, trying to decide whether to take the elevator up to the employee lounge or go straight home. She wanted to find Jacob and ask about her sister, but she was also tired. 

While she was standing there, contemplating what to do next, her mother walked through the front door and spotted her immediately. Elka felt a headache coming on. 

As her mother marched nearer, her overplucked eyebrows shot up. She pointed toward the clunky cast and Elka’s foot. 

“What happened to you?” 

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