"If it weren't for you and Sean's help, I wouldn't have this chance."
"I'm glad you understand. But it's better to do what I can than do nothing."
Once everything was clear, Jenny was about to leave, but Tori realized she hadn't had dinner and insisted on treating her.
So Jenny stayed in that tidy utility room, with a gas lamp on the table. Tori worked in the kitchen, occasionally sending apprentices to bring her hearty dishes.
For example, cold beef, pasta, and seafood soup. All were surprisingly delicious.
He also had someone run to the next store to buy her several packs of pastries and two bags of coffee beans, along with various other foods. All were wrapped in brown paper, tied in bundles, and packed in a wicker basket, as if he were seeing off a relative.
Jenny marveled at Tori's cooking skills. Looking out at the dark night sky, she thought New York would soon lose an excellent chef.
When she left, Tori dropped his kitchen work and saw her out through the front entrance.
On the way, some regulars of Tori's, sitting around a table discussing the newspaper, asked who she was, but Tori ignored them.
He escorted Jenny out, called a cab for her, paid the fare, and saw her off before returning to the club.
The people were still there, teasing Tori about finding such a proper, dignified girlfriend.
Tori spat at them.
"She's Jenny Jones, a clerk at Dawling Publishing Company. She handles submissions for Century Weekly. She helped arrange the deal for Sean's story that got accepted the other day."
The men scratched their heads; they hadn't heard of her.
But a few who also made a living writing silently noted her name.
Sean's recent sale of copyright to a big company like Dawling was well-known in their small circle.
Hundreds of third-rate writers hung around the area, mostly collaborating with third-rate publishers and theaters. When they sold manuscripts, the total payment was often only a few dozen dollars.
The story collections published by those small publishers were only sold at newsstands in nearby neighborhoods, with sales of a few thousand copies.
Big companies were different. Dawling, along with LoFigney and Murray, had unmatched scale in New York State. Each of their publications sold tens of thousands of copies per issue.
Especially Dawling's popular magazines.
To have a piece published meant being on the verge of becoming known across New York State.
Even if not famous, the payment started at several hundred dollars, enough to live comfortably in New York for a year or two.
One man sat thinking for a long time, too envious of Sean. He slapped his forehead, threw away his cigar, got up, and went into the kitchen to find Tori.
"Tori? Do you have that Miss Jones's business card?"
...
The wicker basket was covered with a white napkin. No one knew it was filled with food: cake pastries, aged cheese, coffee beans, and several packs of dried fruit and nuts.
All these weren't cheap, but Jenny couldn't refuse, so she carried them back.
She unlocked the dormitory door. Leni was cooking in the kitchen.
Denise wasn't there.
Jenny put the food in the small kitchen and shared some with Leni, saying it was from someone else.
Leni happened to need some cheese for cooking and asked if Jenny had eaten.
"I've already eaten. Where did Denise go?"
Leni explained:
"Originally, Denise was only responsible for seating guests at banquets. Now she has an extra task.
The sales agent for the distribution department in Chicago sent back a batch of fine wines. Denise's boss, Mr. George, took charge of handling them.
Mr. George just sent her to find people to look after the goods, so the hotel wouldn't mix them up. That's why she went out."
Denise's boss, Mr. George, was one of the distribution business supervisors, usually dealing with sales agents from various places.
Mr. George was the most diplomatic, the biggest supporter of Mr. Kant, the distribution sales manager.
"I see. So we stick to the original plan of helping guide guests, right?" Jenny asked Leni.
Leni shook her head.
"Maybe not enough. We might need to memorize the guest list well tomorrow, in case Denise gets too busy."
"We might have to stay until the banquet ends. But then tips will be bigger."
Jenny acknowledged, returned to her room, sat on the bed, and took out the guest list to memorize it again.
Initially, Jenny agreed to help because Denise said the guests were all industry big shots. For those respectable people, even just serving tea and water would earn many tips.
The day before, Denise had written down the list of hundreds of guests and seating chart for Jenny and the others.
When guests arrived with invitations, they would guide them to the right seats based on that.
The groom, Mr. Kant, came from a lawyer family in Washington, D.C. He was thirty years old and had reached the position of distribution sales manager.
There were only two sales managers in the entire distribution department, each in charge of a different channel.
Tomorrow, he would marry the second daughter of Mr. Stamer Byron, a high-ranking executive in the purchasing department.
Stamer Byron's mother was also a member of the Dawling family; she was the aunt of the current young partners and the cousin of the chief partner.