Rachel's Promise

By M. G. Mastroyannis

Rachels Promise is both a family saga and the story of Rachel, a poor and violated young woman.
To defend the justice of her cause, which is also a promise to her mama, Rachel must take on the powerful and legendary Raskin family thats famous for its dynasty of York, the largest motion picture studio in Hollywood. But to take vengeance on the rich and famous, Rachel must either kill them, or rise to their level of power and fight them from their vantage ground. When she realizes she cannot kill, she launches a career in filmmaking under the most adverse circumstances. On her way she comes across people with flawed personalities, a hazard thats inherent in the nature of the transparent, make-believe world of the filmland.
Rachel refuses to become another Hollywood casualty, though she comes very close. Powered by strong will and purpose, she triumphs over the tremendous odds against her. Still, a total satisfaction does not occur from laurels of fame and wealth, but from fulfilling her promise.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Mar 5, 2003
• ISBN: 9781465333193

M. G. Mastroyannis

M. G. Mastroyannis was born in Nisyros, one of the Greek islands, and came to the United States at a young age. He studied at the University of Southern California School of Engineering, but his desire to write pushed him into engineering writing. Realizing that technical writing would never satisfy him, he began writing literary fiction. He is the author of In the Breath of Night, Rachel’s Promise, Orphan Island. He lives and writes in California.

Book preview

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THE SHEET METAL section of Western Range, a home appliance manufacturing company, was not as noisy as Bill Barrows remembered it in the days when the factory was in full swing. At that time over one hundred workers were working in the sheet metal section alone, but now, in the winter of 1938, they were down to one dozen, and he was afraid the end of layoffs was not yet in sight. During those days of the depression, one went to work in the morning and did not know if by the end of the day he would still have a job. When at the end of each day Bill came home, Esther, his wife, waited at the door watching for signs of bad news. But it happened. When the foreman called him in his office that day, Bill knew it and told himself to take it easy, but this was hard at a time when people were hungry and dispossessed.

Esther Barrows had been by the window looking out into the street for her husband, who had never been so late coming home before. Even if he had lost his first bus, she reasoned, or missed his connection, he would have been home by now. This worried her, and she went to the bus stop and waited. When the bus arrived and she saw him stepping out, she ran to him.

Bill! she called, are you all right?

She peered at him. Oh, Bill!

Ain’t enough work to keep us all busy, the foreman said. And I had the least seniority of the few old timers left.

For a while they walked in silent consternation.

There’s a couple of places I can go and look for work, but I ain’t sure. Nobody’s hiring nowadays; everybody’s layin’ off.

God won’t leave us, she said. Only don’t worry yourself sick.

They were quiet again until they reached home. In the kitchen Bill drew up a chair and sat down, while his wife took the thermos from his lunchbox and began rinsing it.

I’m afraid for our home, he said. If we fall back in our payments, the bank will take it from us.

We won’t let them. I looked for work myself in a few places. Something’s bound to happen. And our Janet is out there looking for work, too. No, we won’t let them take our home away from us. I just don’t want you to get sick like so many other men.

His doubts, his fears, his stark anxieties that preyed on him since he received the bad news of his layoff, eased up a bit now after these reassuring words from his wife. Yeah, we gotta stop them from takin’ our home, he said.

She turned to look at him and see why his voice cracked, and seeing the pain in his eyes she took him into her arms. Everything’s gonna be all right, she said. Only I don’t want you to worry too much. We’ll manage somehow. Just then they heard the front door open. Here’s Janet now, Esther said and poked her head out of the kitchen to see their daughter coming in.

I got me a job! Janet proclaimed.

I knew it, I knew it! Esther said. What kind of a job did you find?

president and general manager of York Motion Picture Studio!"

You mean where they make the movies? her mother asked.

Yes!

They hired you to work where they make the movies? her father seconded.

No, no. I’ll be working in his house in Beverly Hills as a maid.

A maid? Bill asked with a frown on his face. You went to college for two years to be a maid? You’re too smart for that.

Esther watched her husband and she was not surprised that he snubbed this job for his daughter. He was a proud man, and for his family he wanted the best. She looked at Janet. Your father was laid off today.

Oh, no! She studied her father. So it’s settled. I’ll get the job and I’ll be coming home on my days off.

This surprised him. Comin’ home on your days off? Where you gonna be the rest of the days?

I didn’t tell you. I’ll be a live-in housemaid.

He turned to his wife. Well, Esther?

I know how you feel, Bill, but this is no time for pride. We need the money. When you find a job and our money situation gets better, then Janet can quit and go back to school.

That’s right, Papa. You don’t think I’ll be a maid all my life, do you?

So the next day Janet packed the few things she owned into a suitcase, and kissing her parents goodbye she told them she would come and see them on her day off. Then she hurried out of the house to the bus stop and took the bus to Santa Monica, where she would board another bus to Beverly Hills.

A middle-aged man, dressed in a tuxedo, answered the door. Yes? What can I do for you?

I’m Janet Barrows. I was sent by the agency, she said awkwardly and handed him the note the woman at the agency had given her.

Yes, yes. I was expecting you, come in. I’m Charles Hawley, the butler. Follow me.

Because he walked fast she was only able to dart quick looks at the interior of the mansion. In the spacious pantry, where the butler took her, there was another older maid dressed in a pink uniform, and Hawley made the introduction.

Beatrice, he said, this is our new help, Janet.

Hello, Janet.

Hi.

Show her to her room and see that she changes into a uniform, Hawley ordered.

Yes, sir.

Janet picked up her suitcase and followed Beatrice. On the way her eyes were attracted to the exquisite heavy mahogany furniture and ebony pieces of antiquity, lovely paintings and heavy crystals the likes of which she had never seen before. She was awed at the sight of the mansion with all its elegance and wealth, sad at the thought of her parents and so many other people, who were without work and either subsisted on scanty rations or went without food.

Wow! she said at length. I’ve heard about the homes of the rich, but I couldn’t have imagined they were like this. This is a palace! How many are in the Raskin family?

"Three. Mr. and Mrs. and their son Myron. But they keep us busy with dinners and other functions. Mrs. Raskin is a perfectionist was to occupy, and at once Beatrice opened the window to let in fresh air.

It’s a nice room, Janet said.

"They’re all nice rooms. I’ll go and get a uniform for you. What size do you wear?

Six.

For a moment she thought about her size. Her mother had always made her clothes, but two years ago, when Janet was starting college, her mother bought her a dress for the occasion. That was size seven and it had a good fit, but now that dress was a bit too large on her. She had lost weight. Still, her figure maintained its good shape and symmetry, complementing well her beautiful face, whose fair complexion with its ruddy tinge added freshness and charm. And the contrast between her complexion and her black wavy hair was pleasant to look at; she wore her hair long and combed back into a thick ponytail.

As she watched her, Beatrice thought this beautiful young woman would be a breath of fresh air after Dolores, the maid Janet was replacing, who was homely and hard to get along. She fetched the pink uniform, and after Janet put it on the two women went back to the kitchen where the butler waited.

Janet spent the day learning how to set the table, how to carry dishes with food, and what constituted good service and bad; how important it was that she was servile and very pleasant to the masters and their guests. She was irked by Hawley’s plethora of rules and the meticulous planning and preparation that went into the serving of three people, but amused over Hawley’s solemnity as he discussed the details which she considered superfluous and downright nonsense. He took pride in his work about which he bedroom suite, Janet was amazed at its size and luxury; it was so fantastically fabulous, that even her fertile imagination could not have captured it.

I wouldn’t have believed it if someone described this place to me, Janet said.

I felt the same way when I first saw it.

Beatrice could not show her how to make the beds because they had already been made, but come tomorrow they would make them together. What she wanted Janet to do right now was to vacuum the long hall.

In the evening, during dinnertime, Janet was less apprehensive of the masters’ presence and their guests than of the butler’s excitement, which amounted to a near frenzy.

He’s always like this when we serve dinner, Beatrice said. I don’t know whether it’s his nature, or he’s afraid for his job. I don’t blame him if he’s afraid for his job. It’s rough out there and we should be thankful we’re working.

From the service room, which was an extension of the pantry, Janet was watching and admiring her bosses and their guests, those glamorous people who created the world of illusion and decreed over famous movie personalities. To her, the world of illusion often seemed more normal and believable than the world of the real with all its unbelievable economic woes and human suffering. As she watched them eat and talk, she noticed Mr. Raskin Junior looking at her, and she felt self-conscious and embarrassed. The party was deep into conversation. The men discussed business while their wives talked about other women in their social circle of friends. And the women sat together at one end of the table, talking away as though the men were not in the room.

his son, Paul, took over. Paul’s grandfather, Morris Raskin, had been the founder of York Studio in 1865, but it was under the tenure of Douglas Raskin’s management that York was expanded into the largest and best-equipped movie studio in the world.

Under Paul’s management the studio had turned out some good films and box office winners, but now York, like the other movie studios, was feeling the pinch of TV competition.

The men Paul Raskin was talking with at the dinner table were Eugene Rogers, his production manager, and Philip Boyd, his operations and finance manager.

The only way the studios can remain profitable, Raskin was saying, is to curb the rising cost of making films. And the first area to cut cost is in the actors’ phenomenal demands. We cannot afford to pay them the exuberant sums they’re asking. Any ideas how we can handle this?

Boyd cleared his throat. Perhaps we should start hiring more actors and actresses who are less known, he said.

I don’t quite agree with that for two reasons, Rogers said. First, unknown actors will definitely affect the box office and, second, given time and exposure these actors, too, will gain in popularity and in turn demand more money. It’s a vicious circle.

I believe good stories should, to a great extent, offset the absence of big names, Boyd said.

I believe you’re both right, Raskin said. We need good stories and we need big names in order to have successful films. But we can make big names. We can train the talented unknowns and market them. For this reason I decided to establish a talent school right on the studio lot where we can monitor the talent of these students. Philip, I want you to budget for the school, which with a plan and a budget report.

When they’re trained, Raskin continued, the good ones will be selected and turned over to Publicity, which in turn will sell them to the public. The studio will sign long contracts with these talented student actors, like seven years, and they’ll be the studio’s properties at a minimal cost.

It’s a good plan, Paul, Rogers said.

It’ll certainly trim the wings of the high and mighty stars, Boyd said.

Every business has its research and development, Raskin said. Ours should be of no exception.

And if we stumble onto exceptional talent, the studio stands to make money, Rogers said.

Most of it is packaging, Raskin said. If our Publicity packages these people with an aggressive PR job, I’m sure the public will react favorably. I believe a good advertising campaign can sell these fledgling actors and actresses to the public without much trouble. Of course the job of the directors will be more difficult since they’ll be dealing with inexperienced cast.

That’s true, but so be it, Rogers said.

Myron was the only one who was not contributing to the business conversation. Instead, he beckoned Hawley and whispered to him his question about the beautiful addition to the serving staff.

Her name is Janet, sir, Hawley whispered back. She has replaced Dolores.

I must say, Hawley, your taste is impeccable.

Thank you, sir.

Rogers looked across the table at Myron and asked him what into what we’ve been discussing here."

Don’t start on me again.

Paul Raskin’s blood was up as his mind ran to the day his son was born, and his father was very happy because he had made him a grandson to take over the studio to which he had given all his life. Paul believed now that both his father and grandfather had been betrayed, feeling angry at seeing the Raskin dynasty going nowhere after his own demise. He turned to Rogers. And you want to make him a director? You’ve got to be kidding. Look at him. He’s bored stiff listening to us discussing studio business. He doesn’t give a damn. He never did.

Myron jumped to his feet. I don’t have to stay here and listen to this, he said and walked out of the room.

Elizabeth, Raskin’s wife, turned and looked at her husband. What happened, Paul? What did you say to him? she asked with a low but agitated tone of voice.

I told him he should be more interested in the studio’s business.

You embarrassed him.

I don’t think so, Raskin said. I think he was looking for an excuse to leave. He was bored and of course indifferent. Twentythree-year-old man and he hasn’t got a clue as to what he wants to do with his life. He expects others to plan for his future and career.

I don’t want to listen to this and neither does anybody else, Elizabeth said and turned to the butler who stood nearby. Charles, we’ll have our coffee and dessert now.

Yes, madam.

To his wife’s reproof Raskin said nothing. Their son had always been a source of friction. When Myron was a child they disagreed Myron’s flighty ways brought on by his impetuous, rash youth.

Myron had gone into the service room by way of the pantry, and finding Janet he introduced himself. I know your name is Janet, he said, but what’s your surname?

Barrows, she replied timidly.

Mine is Myron Raskin.

I know. Nice to meet you.

Likewise. How do you like it here?

It’s too early yet, but I think I’ll like it.

You’re a nice-looking girl. He reached over and touched her cheek with the tips of his fingers. Real nice, he said while looking into her eyes.

Just then Hawley called her. Fetch the dessert tray from the pantry refrigerator and fill the carafe with coffee, he told her.

Excuse me, Janet said and moved away.

You’re excused, Myron said. He stood watching her go into the pantry, a look of bright anticipation lighting up his face.

* * *

On her day off Janet went to see her parents. Seeing her turning into the path leading to the door of the house, Esther Barrows called her husband and then ran out to meet her daughter.

Janet!

Hello, Mama!

They hugged and kissed.

How are you, Mama?

Esther dried the tears off her blubbered cheeks, then swayed her head sideways and said, I’m not sure lately.

Right then her father came to the door. There’s our girl!

Janet ran into his open arms. How are you, Papa?

Not bad for an old man. Your ears must be buzzin’ all the time. Your mama and I always talk about you.

That’s true, Esther said. The house is too empty without you. We miss you.

I miss you, too. I wish there was a way I could talk to you between my days off.

I’ll ask our neighbor to give you her telephone number. Mrs. Becker won’t mind if you call us on her telephone.

They went into the house. Janet took her paycheck from her purse and handed it to her father. This is my pay for two weeks, she said.

He took the check and looked at it. Hey, that ain’t bad. It’s for twenty dollars!

It will come in very handy, Esther said. I got me a job, too, washing and ironing clothes. I don’t make much, but every little bit counts.

It’s tough out there, Bill said. It ain’t like I’ll find me a job in my trade. I’m out there from morning to night lookin’, but ain’t no jobs to be had.

Something will turn up, Esther said in an encouraging tone. God won’t leave us.

Tell me about your stomach, Mama. I remember when the pain had gone away and you were doing all right. What’s happening now?

It came back, she said. The pain came back and sometimes I feel it strong.

What do you think is wrong with your stomach, Mama?

be careful what I eat, that’s all."

But do you have a choice what to eat? Is there enough food in the house? Janet asked.

Esther looked at her husband. Well, we had some unpaid bills and we’re short right now, she said, but we’ll manage.

Your mama is afraid the truth will upset me. But we’re family and we got to talk open. You see, your mama don’t always have work, so some times there ain’t nothing in the house to eat. That’s why the ulcer pain is rippin’ through her stomach lately. His face hardened. Dammit, I don’t know what to do. Just don’t know.

Esther went to him. I don’t want you to feel like that. I don’t want you to wind up like other men, who let hopelessness get the best of them. With my little bit of income and Janet’s, we’ll be all right.

Janet thought of the leftover and wasted food in the Raskin household, good food thrown away while her parents had nothing to eat, and cursed the wretched fate of the poor and disadvantaged.

We slaved all our life to save enough to buy our home, Bill said, but now we can lose it like so many other people lost theirs. The banks take everything they lent money on and throw the people out on the streets.

That’s true, Janet said. They sell the homes of the poor people to those with money at a fraction of what the people had paid for, and the rich become richer while the poor become poorer and dispossessed.

Esther, too, was afraid of the bank repossessing their home, and she spent many sleepless nights thinking and worrying. But she did not want her husband to worry himself sick. She loved her

But this ain’t the only thing that worries me, he said. I want to take you to a doctor and see what’s wrong with your stomach that’s tearin’ you inside. He pulled her to him and held her.

Janet watched them and thought how loving they had always been, hardly ever raising their voice to each other, or exchanging a harsh word.

Can’t we take Mama to a doctor now and pay later? Janet asked him.

I talked to two doctors already, Bill said. But they all want their fee paid right up front ‘cause they have a hard time collecting.

We’ll take her to a doctor with my next paycheck, Janet said.

You’re worrying over nothing, Esther said. I’ll be all right. I’ll get some milk and yogurt from the store. Milk products are good for ulcers they say.

Later the women went to the neighborhood grocery store and spent some of Janet’s pay for groceries, and Janet picked a piece of roast beef against her mother’s admonition that it was too expensive. While still in the grocery store, Esther’s stomach pain came on strongly, but she held on until they went home and she lay down exhausted and short of breath. She looked very pale and Bill held her hand while Janet hurried to fetch her a little milk. After a while the pain subsided and they all agreed that the milk helped. In the late afternoon they sat and ate dinner without Janet, who wanted them to have her portion and told them she was not hungry. It did her heart good to see her parents have a substantial meal of roasted meat and baked potatoes with butter, feeling somewhat guilty because in the Raskin house she could have all she could eat of the delicious gourmet food that was prepared daily. After her and waved to them as the bus moved out.

All the way back to Beverly Hills she thought of her parents and was depressed, for they had seemed to her to have aged since the loss of her father’s job and her mother’s recurrence of the stomach pains. Her mother’s face looked pale and somewhat withered, and her father seemed to have lost permanently his good mood and wonderful sense of humor. His once happy and smiling face was now shaded with sadness and gloom.

She called and talked to them a couple of times, and on her day off she went to see them again. She had talked to the cook and he agreed to give her what leftovers he had, shrimp Creole, beef burgundy, large pieces of broiled beef steaks (brought in from the State of Kansas), fresh vegetables, fruits, breads, and pies. She had a hard time carrying so much food, and her parents were stunned to hear that it was all considered old and stale and would be thrown away. But this cornucopia was short lived, for Hawley had found out and decreed that this practice could raise suspicions and it should be stopped. But the cook, who liked Janet and listened with compassion to her describing the need her parents were in, still gave her something each time she went to see them. He even helped her to smuggle it out through the back door.

Her father had not found a job yet, but her mother still washed by hand and ironed clothes, a task that kept her busy and gave her the excuse she needed for not having gone to see a doctor yet. The true reason of course was money, which Esther did not want to spend on doctors at a time when the family was going through a terrible financial hardship. She always shelved her own needs, but took an active role in the needs of her family.

Oh! she said.

I startled you. I’m sorry.

It’s okay. She attempted to go through, but he blocked her way.

Don’t go yet. Talk to me first.

About what?

About anything. Any other employee would welcome the opportunity to talk to the boss.

But I have nothing to talk about except my work, she said.

Then talk to me about your work.

I’m sure you’re not interested. It’s a dull and boring subject.

He stared at her for a long moment and then reached out to touch her hair, but Janet moved backward and his hand was left dangling in the air. What would you say if I told you that I’m attracted to you?

First, I’d say I’m flattered, then I’d say I’m just the maid and I know better than going after rainbows.

Even after I told you I’m very much attracted to you?

As I said, I’m just the maid. Obviously it’s not me you’re attracted to.

Of course I am. I wouldn’t have said it if I wasn’t.

You’re attracted to something else, Mr. Raskin.

Like what?

Like my body.

He laughed. Tell me, do you like my body?

Not within the context of our conversation. She made to leave just as Beatrice’s voice was heard calling her. I’m sorry but I have to go, she said and went for the door.

an old friend, and during dinner he would try to make eye contact and flirt persistently. And whenever her work brought her near him, he would touch her and pester her. This embarrassed and annoyed her, but she was not one to flinch at distress, or from a set course of purpose. She was there as a maid to weather the miserable economic depression and to help her parents through it, and she would not let anything or anyone prevent her from doing just that. But quickly it became apparent to her that his exhibition of friendship was nothing more than a ploy to his designs, so she continued