The Morrisons owned a charming three-story villa with an arched balcony, located just two turns away from the hotel.
Mrs. Morrison would wake up at seven every morning and arrive at the staff area of the Ritz Hotel by half past seven, where she would ring the bell that hung along the corridor, signaling to all directions.
Soon, the alley near the lockers would be crowded with female employees who had already dressed in their uniforms. Despite the crowd, no one dared to make a sound in front of Mrs. Morrison, creating an eerie silence.
From this moment on, any latecomers would have their wages docked for half a day. Mr. Wusht, the doorman, had informed Mrs. Morrison of the attendance record just a few minutes ago.
Eloise stood with Laura near the back of the group. She kept her head low but discreetly shifted her gaze forward to observe the woman dressed in a typical basque skirt two-piece ensemble.
Mrs. Morrison wasn't old; she had a heart-shaped face and a hooked nose. Her appearance seemed a bit harsh, and her face was unnaturally pale, as if she had applied some kind of powder.
Her attire was perfectly presentable: she wore a sapphire blue round-neck jacket with lace borders and ruffles, paired with a skirt of alternating dark and light blue stripes. Her petticoats peeked out from beneath, creating a luxurious cascade of folds. The style, though a bit outdated compared to high society, was certainly elegant. She didn't wear any jewelry.
From a distance, her silhouette appeared like a full water droplet, undoubtedly achieved with a crinoline.
Mrs. Morrison spoke in a high-pitched voice:
"…Yesterday, an employee was discovered sneaking to use the elevator, and they were even spotted by a guest on the fifth floor. Although we haven't yet identified who it was, such behavior is absolutely prohibited and will not be tolerated again! Staff must use the employee stairs. If I catch anyone doing this, the entire department will face wage deductions. I hope everyone can keep an eye on each other."
After her lecture, Mrs. Morrison continued, "Due to the recent cold temperatures in New York, Mr. Pengoli has agreed to raise the weekly wages of the laundry staff by half a dollar from December to January. This will take effect starting with today's pay."
She finished announcing these matters and then addressed the housekeeping staff, "…Today, a guest will be checking into the VIP suite. After cleaning, come to me for inspection. The flowers and fruits must be replaced with the freshest and most luxurious options. And remember! No one is allowed to wander around on the seventh floor…"
Meanwhile, Eloise returned to the No. 11 warehouse. She carried a green-painted metal bucket, about twenty gallons in size, filled with ashes from the stove and equipped with a bristle brush.
There were twelve rooms occupied on the fifth floor and seven on the sixth, totaling nineteen rooms that needed to be checked.
The Ritz Hotel, like many modern hotels, charged more for higher floors. A standard single room on the second floor could be rented for a dollar and a half a night, while a standard suite on the sixth floor cost at least ten times as much.
The guests were either factory general managers on business trips to New York, senators from New York State, or European nobility visiting New York for tourism.
Eloise climbed up to the fifth floor via the employee stairs and was already drenched in sweat. She paused for a moment to catch her breath, then proceeded to ring the doorbells outside the occupied rooms one by one.
The door was a solid wooden one, adorned with a brass plate and a bell. Pulling the bell would activate a clever and intricate series of connections that would alert those inside the building. This mechanism was ingeniously placed near the chimney that ran throughout the entire structure. Therefore, if a guest had an urgent matter, they could also ring the bell to get the attention of the staff at the front desk below.
"Hello, would you like your fireplace cleaned?"
Eloise forced another professional yet artificial smile. The guest in the room looked visibly annoyed, as if her presence had disturbed a much-needed nap. However, under normal societal circumstances, it was unlikely for a respectable gentleman to still be in bed at this hour.
So, this guest was merely a wealthy playboy with particular tastes and demands.
"I don't want any flames or the foul odor of coal, but I do want glowing red coals in the fireplace."
After stating his demands, the guest retreated back to his bedroom to resume his slumber. Eloise had agreed promptly, but as soon as he was out of sight, she quickly scooped out the ashes, casually tossing two carbon sticks from the storage room into the fireplace.
In her previous life, such guests were often all talk and no action. They made demands based on hearsay and lacked actual life experience, meaning they would often not notice if things weren't done exactly as requested. By the time they woke up from their post-nap daze, they would have forgotten all about it.
Eloise worked mechanically, her iron pail filling up quickly with ash. After several trips up and down between the fifth and sixth floors, she finally finished her tasks. Glancing at the standing clock in the employee area, it was now a quarter past eleven.
In just forty-five minutes, it would be time to clock out. Eloise returned the pail to the warehouse, cleaned it, and stacked it neatly. Just as she finished, Laura and Ryan returned from their work.
The two were chatting and giggling, clearly pleased that there were fewer fireplaces to clean today. Eloise wiped the sweat from her forehead, suddenly feeling a bit out of place amidst their cheerful banter.
"Eloise, want to join us to the accountants' office?" Laura placed her pail and invited Eloise along to collect their weekly pay for the half day's work.
Eloise nodded quietly and followed them into one of the smaller accounting offices.
The senior accountant had already gone to the staff cafeteria in the basement, leaving his assistant Mason behind.
Mason was a shy young man, dressed in a second-hand suit that hinted at his modest economic status. Despite that, he was handsome and meticulous in his work.
He retrieved their envelopes from the desk and handed them out, asking each to sign for their pay.
Laura and Ryan seemed in no hurry to leave. They asked Mason for two cups of hot water and began chatting. Laura said, "I saw the guests in the VIP suite on the seventh floor today. They are two brothers, one of them is Mr. Benjamin, and the other one, I think, is from London and goes by Mr. Merken. They were impeccably dressed, obviously men of considerable status."
Laura was always keen on gathering such information. Today, while cleaning the fireplaces, she had lingered to watch the porters carry the luggage upstairs and had even spoken to them.
Mason, who often read discarded newspapers used by the accountants for practice, chimed in, "I know Mr. Benjamin. He's the son of a very influential figure..."
Eloise, eager to count her money, left the office first after receiving her envelope with her name on it.
While hiding in the warehouse waiting for the end of her shift, Eloise opened the envelope and found exactly three dollars inside, neatly bundled. She tucked this money into the pocket of her underskirt, pondering how she would need to go to the grocery store to break it into smaller bills.
Workers like her, who only worked half-days, didn’t have the privilege of a staff meal. Perhaps it was this very reason—to save on that one meal—that the boss hired so many half-day workers.
Eloise waited until the designated time, then went to the changing room to remove her work uniform and put on her own clothes. She stood in line to punch out at the concierge station before finally ending her half-day of hard work.
Knowing that she wouldn’t return to work until the day after tomorrow, she had an entire day and a half of freedom ahead of her.
Normally, she would head home first to make lunch for Thomas and Bella, and then take care of some household chores, such as fetching water and cleaning the floors.
Even after completing these tasks, she would still have plenty of time left and would start preparing dinner for her cousin and aunt—though in recent days, her aunt had not asked Eloise to cook dinner, as if fearing she might not do it well.
Occasionally, she would accompany her aunt to the market for shopping.
The original owner of her body didn’t have many hobbies. When she had free time, she would take her younger siblings to the cheap circus that set up shop several blocks away, spending a few cents to buy a standing spot where the three of them would squeeze together to watch the performances.
New York offered many forms of entertainment, not just for the wealthy, but also for the poor. There were free parks to wander, and numerous affordable shows to enjoy, such as circuses, operas, magic shows, and plays that performed daily all over Manhattan.
But Eloise had different plans for her current free time.
Her workdays were as exhausting as her off-days were liberating.
She walked toward 33rd Street with the three dollars in hand. The snow had partially melted under the midday sun, flowing down the streets.
Her thin-soled leather shoes soaked up the water, wetting her woolen socks, but it wasn’t a major issue. Eloise planned to find a cheaper grocery store to see if she could buy some thread.
33rd Street was lined with many storefronts that primarily served the surrounding residents. Though Eloise didn’t have much money to spend, her curiosity compelled her to peek through the glass windows.
The wooden windows of the small restaurant were fogged with melting snow, obscuring the view. At a table by the window sat a man wearing a high-top hat, enjoying a plate of tender, slow-cooked beef short ribs in red wine, paired with a beer. Just looking through the window made it easy to imagine how warm and delicious the meal must taste.
Eloise felt her hunger grow. She averted her eyes, her stomach growling loudly as she quickened her pace and entered a grocery store.
Inside, shelves were stocked with various necessities of the time: oils, salts, vinegars, bottles and jars filled with goods.
Crafts and metalwares were expensive, with each item costing over a dollar.
Most people opted to rent such items. For instance, the metal bedframe in Eloise’s home had been rented annually by her aunt for a few cents.
Textiles were less expensive, likely due to the many textile factories in New York. Each yard still cost half a dollar, a price Eloise couldn’t afford.
Most people bought cloth from secondhand markets, while Eloise purchased a large roll of cotton thread, a box of mediocre-quality pins, and two sticks of chalk from the grocery store. She haggled with the owner, and the total cost came to just a few cents.
The apartment where Eloise and her family lived was located on 33rd Street, Building 43. This building had three floors and an attic, with the landlord's family residing on the first floor. From the second floor onwards, each room was rented out, and the third floor housed three households.
Thomas and Bella had likely returned home by now after delivering newspapers, waiting for lunch. Eloise climbed the stairs, carrying her things, and saw a neighbor from the second floor comforting a child in the stairway.
In New York, ordinary working-class families usually consisted of men working in factories while women took care of children. Once the children grew older, they would be sent to work as child laborers. The family would save money and eventually buy a plot of land in the suburbs, build their own house, and consider themselves "made it."
On the third floor, the old woman living next door was scrubbing her chamber pot in the stairway again, forcing Eloise to pinch her nose and take a detour.
She knocked on her own door, and it was Thomas who opened it.
"Thomas, Bella, I'm back," Eloise said, placing her belongings on her bed.
Bella and Thomas were seated at the table, folding newspapers for the next day's delivery. Thomas nodded and pulled out the portion of his and Bella's salary that they were supposed to hand over, along with an extra coin.
"Today, while delivering newspapers, I came across a lady who needed help with her luggage. She gave me half a dollar as a tip," Thomas explained.
Ever since the death of their parents, Thomas's personality had drastically changed. In his memory, he had been quite mischievous as a child, but now he rarely spoke. With everyone in the family preoccupied with making a living, no one had much time to care about him.
Eloise collected the due portion from Thomas and set it, along with her own, under her aunt's pillow. She handed him back the fifty-cent coin.
"Since you earned it yourself, you keep it. No one will ask you for it, don't worry," Eloise reassured him, stroking his fluffy head.
Thomas seemed somewhat dazed. Quietly, he pocketed the money and responded with an absent-minded "Oh," before returning to the table to help Bella fold newspapers.
Eloise first got the stove going, using the last bit of coal.
A pot hung on the wall of their room, along with a cloth bag that contained a bag of flour, some potatoes, and a small amount of salt.
Eloise picked up the spout kettle from the stove and went downstairs, filling it with water from the communal faucet in the shared restroom for the second and third floors.
By this time, running water had become common in New York apartments, though the quality varied. Without much choice, Eloise had to make do.
Downstairs, children were still crying, and the woman next door had finished scrubbing her chamber pot, moving on to repair her gas lamp with a small hammer. The walls were poorly insulated, and as Eloise ignited the stove, she could hear the banging sounds echoing through the building.
With the stove heating up, the room gradually grew warmer. Bella, having finished folding the newspapers, gathered by the stove to warm herself, playing with a puppet. She looked up at Eloise with her pretty eyes and noticed she was taking several potatoes out of the bag on the wall and dropping them into the stove's firebox.
"Are we having roasted potatoes for lunch?" Bella asked, her eyes lighting up hopefully. "Eloise, can we go see the lions at the nearby circus this afternoon?"
While waiting for the potatoes to roast, Eloise bent down and pulled out a wicker box from under the iron bed. Ignoring Bella’s question, she started rummaging through its contents:
"I have work to do this afternoon. You go with Thomas, but be careful not to get lost. If you get kidnapped, you'll end up as a street beggar—"
Bella was scared by the threat and scrunched her face. She quickly shook her head: "Then I won't go."
Thomas, who was helping to flip potatoes, overheard this and gave Eloise a surprised look. He thought to himself, Eloise was usually so easy-going, why did she seem different today? But he couldn't quite put his finger on what exactly was different.
Eloise was busy searching through a box, which mostly contained menstrual pads and bras, with nothing else of interest.
It wasn't until she found a yellow, ragged cotton lantern-style pair of pants at the bottom of the box that she stopped. These were old clothes from her childhood that no longer fit but had never been thrown away.
She fetched her aunt's sharp scissors and sat by the stove, dismantling the pants, avoiding the worn-out parts, and marking lines with chalk to cut out several pieces for ladies' short gloves.
By the time the potatoes were roasted and taken out with a fire tong, Thomas and Bella were already hungry. They wolfed down the hot potatoes, their cheeks bulging, only to glance sideways and see Eloise still squatting by the side, fiddling with her scraps of cloth.
After finishing the roasted potatoes, Thomas wiped his mouth, filled his water bottle with boiled water from the stove, and slung it over his shoulder. He touched the five extra dimes in his pocket, still worried about losing them.
"Eloise, I'd like to go out and try my luck to earn a bit of extra money. Could you keep this money safe for me?" Thomas's concern was valid; New York City was filled with pickpockets.
These pickpockets usually operated in groups accompanying circuses, and they wouldn't stop until there was nothing left to steal.
Eloise, busy sewing the gloves, took the money and answered, "Watch your step, and come home early. Don't wander too far—"
She mimicked the manner of an older sister, nagging a bit before letting Thomas go.
By 6 PM, with the sky gradually darkening, the snow began to fall again over New York. The world outside the window seemed like a shaken snow globe. Just before dinnertime, Aunt and cousin Louise arrived home without any evening work meals.
The complimentary work meal at the Ritz Hotel was quite an enticing perk, usually including fragrant bread and canned tomato-stewed beans, along with a small piece of butter, and occasionally even a slice of sausage in the beans.
Terry wrapped her bread and butter in a cloth and brought it home, immediately starting to prepare dinner using the leftover embers from the stove.
Louise seemed particularly tired today. She removed her soggy shoes and placed them near the stove to dry, then lay down on the bed. The sound of scissors caught her attention, and she peeked over the edge of the bed.
"Little E, what are you mending?"
Eloise didn't hide it from her: "I bought some thread today and plan to make gloves out of this old pair of pants that no longer fit. I can sew the lining into my shirt to add warmth. It's just too cold."
Louise was quite surprised, as was her aunt, who glanced over with a raised eyebrow: "Eloise, when did you learn to sew clothes?"
"I don't know if it'll turn out well yet," Eloise modestly replied.
Louise lay back down, sighed, and began to complain to Eloise:
"Mrs. Morrison is truly difficult to deal with. Today, I scrubbed all the carpets in the VIP suite, yet she still wasn't satisfied. Later, she even had new carpets brought in from the warehouse to replace them."
"Just think about it! What was she even thinking? Why not just replace them from the start? Poor me, my back~ I was on the floor for two hours, almost broken~"
Although this was the second time today someone mentioned it, Eloise remained indifferent to the two VIPs.
Still, Louise kept on talking endlessly.
"Mrs. Morrison also said that the rooms for those two VIPs have been reserved for a full quarter, even when they're not staying here, they must be cleaned thoroughly without fail. She checks them every single day!"
Louise's angry voice gradually subsided, and she mumbled as she rummaged through the bedside table to find a second-hand book to read: "The thing I hate most in this life are the rich..."
"Yes, why couldn't I be the one with money." Eloise held a fabric glove piece, hesitant. The fabric was already old, the color faded, and a bit worn. Without any other materials, how could she make it stand out?
After thinking for a long time, Eloise decided to embroider a few small chrysanthemums on the fabric. One to conceal the flaws, two to make it eye-catching, though it was certainly a labor-intensive task.
Eloise planned to first sew the lining of her underwear into her shirt, so she wouldn't freeze tomorrow morning.
Aunt Terry secretly observed her. Seeing Eloise sewing clothes so meticulously, she was quite surprised. The girl usually kept quiet, yet she had some talent in mending? Why hadn't she noticed it before? If she had, she would have sent her to a tailor's shop as an apprentice a couple of years earlier, and her future would have been different!
Now at sixteen, she was a bit old for an apprenticeship, but that didn't matter. If she acquired some skills, in a few years she would be quite marketable when it came to finding a husband and settling down.
Aunt Terry, while regretting having delayed the girl’s future, was also happy, calculating. Today, she had gotten a raise, and her spirits were high.
She cleaned the dining table and, while waiting for the butter potato soup to cook, took out the wages she had received from the accountant today, along with the living expenses handed over by the children.
Using a dip pen, she calculated various expenses on the blank space of an old newspaper.
On the way home, she paid for the coal, bought a small bag of flour, a cheap bag of cornmeal, a fat piece of bacon, and settled the rent with the landlord. Calculating it all, she surprisingly had a dollar and a half left over, ensuring a stable week for the food budget.
It was late at night, yet New York was a city that never slept, with people just getting off work roaming the night markets at any hour. By dinnertime, Thomas also returned, covered in snow.
His nose and ears were red from the cold. After warming up by the stove for a while, he smelled the aroma of fried bacon and potato soup, making his mouth water. He circled around Aunt Terry, saying, "I went to the train station to help carry some boxes. A gentleman gave me some change and asked me to relay a message. So, I went to the Oxa Theater on Broadway."
Aunt Terry patted the snow off him. Thomas, this kid, was even quieter than his sister and quite honest. Even when angry, he would only stomp his feet in annoyance but wasn't clever enough to deceive or cheat.
“Why did you go so far? You’re not allowed to wander around after dark anymore—it’s not safe out there! And don’t go imitating those street hooligans!” Terry, the aunt, wasn’t as lenient as Eloise.
“Those guys who hang around the streets are troublemakers. You better watch out if you step on their turf, or they’ll beat you up and stuff you into a sack.”
Terry knew all too well about such things.
Thomas awkwardly replied, “I understand.” In truth, he wasn’t bold enough to stir up trouble, as the rules on the streets were far from clear-cut.
After Eloise finished sewing the thickened lining of the shirts and coats, she knocked on the headboard above her bed and asked Louise, “Wake up, are there any clothes you need mended? I’ll fix them for you.”
Hearing this, Louise got up from bed and rummaged through the foot of her bed. “You know what, I think one of my petticoat pockets has torn…”
Terry brought to the table a steaming bowl of potato soup with a few slices of bacon, along with the slices of bread she had made. She took down the gas lamp that Eloise had hung on the headboard and urged her to put down her sewing needle:
“Dinner first!”
