“They have all the luck,” Helene said, looping her arm through Alma’s as they left the detainees’ ward. “I was hoping that old bat would send me home.” Several of the matrons had left work early. Only a handful of women and children immigrants remained in the detainees’ ward.
“I’d have to work at home, too,” Alma said, steering them toward a bench in the gloomy corridor, out of sight of the inspectors in the vast and rambling registry office. “Being bored here is better than working there.” Her words surprised even her, but they were true. She’d prefer to be away from the monotony of home and out of Robert’s sight, even if it meant more time at Ellis Island. In some ways, she felt more herself at work. Freer and more alive. At work, she could practice the languages she was studying more openly, too.
Alma wondered if Helene had plans beyond Ellis Island. “Do you plan to continue living with your parents?” she asked.
Helene grasped her arm excitedly. “Actually, I meant to tell you! My friend Rose is a secretary for some lawyer’s office, and she asked me if I wanted to move into an apartment with her.”
“That’s great!” she answered with enthusiasm, but inside, she felt a stab of jealousy. She couldn’t imagine what that would be like, to move in with friends.
Helene went on about where the apartment was located, where they’d get furniture, how they were going to share the expenses. Eventually she turned back to talking about the staff, and Alma’s eyes glazed over. She enjoyed spending time with the vivacious young woman, but only in short bursts of time. Helene talked nonstop, and her favorite topic was staff gossip. Who flirted with whom, those who had been reprimanded about various indiscretions or tardiness, and, of course, the most recently fired.
“You saw Williams at lunch,” Helene said, a stray blond curl at her temple bobbing as she spoke. “He asked me a thousand questions about the staff.”
“What did you tell him?”
Her friend waved her hand dismissively. “Very little. He followed me around for an hour after that. I think, to intimidate me.”
Alma suspected Helene had shared a lot more than she let on. Much as Alma liked the young woman, she was incapable of keeping her mouth closed. Alma had been tempted, at times, to tell her she might learn more by listening rather than talking all the time.
“He actually followed you?” Alma asked, unable to hide the skepticism from her voice.
“Well, he happened to be in the detainees’ quarters. Spoke to a couple of the other matrons.”
“Ah, I see,” she replied, feeling a little more at ease.
She wondered if he would seek her out as well. With several employees already on probation for various things from arriving late to being drunk or speaking rudely to the immigrants, the thought of Williams questioning her made her nervous. She’d seen things and never reported them…for a good reason, she’d told herself. But was it a good reason to keep silent about inspectors stealing from others or accepting bribes? She picked at the edge of her apron pocket where the stitching had come loose.
“Did you hear about Marge?” Helene changed the subject abruptly. “She’s pregnant! She’s going to work right up until the baby is born.” She wrinkled her nose. “Imagine being on your feet the way we are all day, as big as an elephant. She doesn’t have any other options, though. Her husband is just a cobbler. I think they shouldn’t have any children if they can’t afford them, conventional or not.”
Alma considered her friend’s point. It was unusual to forego having children when married, and Marge hardly seemed the type to break convention, or even have a mind of her own for that matter. Alma cringed as she realized someone could say the same about her.
“Telling stories about the staff, are we, ladies?” John Lambert sidled up beside them and plunked down on the bench, squeezing in next to Alma.
As Helene moved over, she met Alma’s eye.
“What’s so interesting?” John said in German, leaning closer to Alma until she could see the pores from which his beard hairs grew. In fact, she hadn’t really “seen” him at all until now. He was middle-aged, balding on the crown of his head, and had dark eyes fringed by long lashes. His full beard hid the rest of his face, but he smiled often, giving him a pleasant enough affect. She couldn’t deny he possessed a certain charm. On the other hand, Mrs. Keller’s clear disdain for the inspector flashed through Alma’s mind. She’d noticed her supervisor give him a wide berth when a chance meeting presented itself and wondered why. Honestly, Mrs. Keller wasn’t exactly pleasant either.
“Nothing,” Helene lied. “We were just talking about women things, you know. What else are we to do? The whole week has been slow.”
“It’s been a nice change of pace really,” Alma said.
“I can’t say I like it much,” Lambert replied. “It gives Williams more time to sniff around the staff.” His dark eyes clouded over, and he looked down at his hands.
She exchanged another loaded glance with Helene. Something was going on between the commissioner and John Lambert. Either that or John had a reason to fear his new boss. Was he up to something he shouldn’t be? Alma glanced at him, assessing his relaxed posture and easy manner, which seemed antithetical to his demanding position as chief of the registry office. All she knew was that he’d gone out of his way to make sure she was doing well at work. Something she greatly appreciated.
“You’re looking very pretty today, Alma.” John tweaked a lock of light-brown hair that had escaped her cap.
She blushed. The last time a man had complimented her… Well, it had been Jacob. She shifted on the bench, acutely aware of John’s nearness. He was older than her by more than a decade, though not wholly unattractive. Yet, she couldn’t deny something about him unsettled her, no matter how kind he’d been to her in the past.
“We haven’t had much time to talk. I’d like to get to know you better, Alma.” He touched her hand lightly.
She flinched at his touch.
Helene tried to hide a smile.
“Are you getting the hang of the routine here?” he asked.
“I am. It’s not challenging work, but it’s tiring. I sleep hard at night, that’s for sure.”
He nodded. “But as you can see from this week, we do have quiet days and slower times of year, thankfully. I don’t understand why Roosevelt won’t slow things down more.”
“Thank God for the quieter days,” Helene piped in.
“Yes!” Alma agreed.
“Your father invited me to the bierhaus tonight,” he said casually, measuring her expression. “I think I’ll take him up on his offer. Robert’s an affable man.”
Alma was sure Robert was affable—to other men, and to other German families who floated in and out of his bierhaus, bringing their dollars with them—just not to her. She searched for the right response, finally forcing a smile. “He’d be delighted to see you again. We’ll keep a plate warm for you.”