Page 120 of The Blessings of Christmas
Then he eyed her apron. “What’s with the apron?”
“We’re going to put Miss Victoria to work,” Phyllis offered.
“Sure thing. I’ll be a server.”
“Uh, huh.” His square jar shifted. “Are you willing to work wherever you’re needed?”
“Of course.” Was he thinking of his office, where he saw patients? Maybe she should get a nurse’s uniform. She’d have to look into that.
But Dr. Darling pointed to the heaps of dishes piled next to the sink. “Have at it. We’re running behind and need clean plates.”
Behind her, Phyllis gave a soft gasp. Were Dr. Darling’s shoulders shaking as he pivoted and headed for the door? For a second she was tempted to throw a wet sponge after him.
But no way would she let him get her down. “Where’s the dishwasher, Phyllis?” Victoria scanned the kitchen.
“We don’t have one.”
What? The floor seemed to shift under her. “No dishwasher? How do you manage?”
“Elbow grease, Miss Victoria.” Shaking her head, Phyllis pointed to a bottle of blue soap. “That man. I don't know what's gotten into him.”
“Don’t worry.” She could hardly push the words through her numb lips. “I can handle it.”
“Do what you can, Miss Victoria.” Was Phyllis doubting her ability to wash dishes? “Stack them to the side. If I get a chance, I'll come in and help you dry. The clean plates go over there.” She nodded to a long table where three clean plates sat.
With that, Phyllis left. Looking around, Victoria shook her head. Man, and here she’d thought her kitchen in her apartment was outdated. This place with prehistoric. No wonder they needed donors.
The heap of dishes looked disgusting. Had she ever washed a dish in her life? Maribelle had taken care of all that.
A wave of indecision left her uneasy. For just a second, she was so tempted to scoot out the back door. Why did she need to please Dr. Darling?
But this wasn’t about him. Not anymore. This was about her staying power. Sure she’d dropped out of Speech class in college because she didn’t want to talk in front of a group of people. But later, she’d felt terrible when the other kids asked why she wasn’t in class anymore. Words like “prima donna” and “spoiled rotten” had been said behind her back but not out of earshot. Those words hurt.
So she was staying. No way was she walking out and she tied her apron tighter. Victoria was not going to see that smile of satisfaction on Derek Darling’s face. No, she was going to prove him wrong. When she squirted soap into the sink, some splashed and hit her right in her good eye. Blinking fiercely didn’t help a bit. The darn soap stung. She just kept blinking. Gradually, the stinging eased while she was poking around looking for rubber gloves. Anytime she’d seen Maribelle washing pans or platters, she was wearing gloves. No such luck.Onward.She grabbed the sponge.
The dishes were disgusting. Dried potatoes and eggs clung to them. Of course there was no garbage disposal. But there was a tall trash can. She pulled it over and began to scrape to the tune of “Have a Holly Jolly Christmas.”
Before too long she had a system going, washing dishes one dozen at a time. First she washed twelve plates. Then she dried them. Because they were so darn heavy, she had to take them over to the side table in groups of four. She laughed, picturing the horror on her mother's face if she saw her daughter heaving dishes around.
“How are you doing?” Phyllis poked her head in a little bit later. Although it might be cool outside, this kitchen was burning up. Wiping one arm over her face, Victoria had gotten makeup on her white shirt. Stray curls had escaped her French braid. She was a mess.
“Not to worry. Everything’s going fine.”
Phyllis glanced toward the stacks of plates. “Great job. We need these dishes bad.” Grabbing a few, she hustled back out. Watching her leave, Victoria felt a curious sense of satisfaction. Her daddy hadn't bought his way into this one for her. Maybe that was what was making her feel so darn good.
That light-headed giddiness didn’t last long. Her shoulders and neck began to ache. Maybe she’d have to book a massage with Kim on her way home. She hated to think of what this hot water was doing to her manicure. Once in a while she pulled out a dripping hand and held out her fingers. Cindy, her nail tech, would be horrified.
The silverware was something else, and she’d left that until last. “You have to use one of the scrubbers,” Phyllis told her, pointing under the sink during one of her trips into the kitchen.
Seizing the scouring pad she attacked the silverware. On one of her trips back into the kitchen, Phyllis discovered her singing to “Jingle Bell Rock.” The older woman smiled. “It’s nice to havesome young folks around here. You’ve got a lot of spirit. I’ll give you that.”
Warmth unfurled inside Victoria. Phyllis left. Turning up the radio, Victoria went back to dancing and singing.
“What’s going on?” The unmistakable deep voice made her whirl around. Dr. Darling was smiling? Really? A blush heated her cheeks.
“Am I making too much noise?” She’d never been known for her singing. “I’m just scrubbing dishes.”
That stinker. He had the nerve to laugh. “Victoria Pomeroy washing dishes,” he said slowly, shaking his head. “Maybe we should take a picture for theSweetwater Gazette.”
