Naomi of Nob Hill: A Novel

By Gerhard J. W. Munster

Naomi LaFontaine isn’t enjoying life. Bill collectors keep calling her San Francisco apartment, her stepmother just passed away, and she’s unemployed and flat broke. Fortunately for Naomi, life is about to change—in a big way.

After spotting a classified ad to become a live-in housekeeper at Nob Hill, Naomi sets off to the ritzy section of town. She’s overjoyed when she lands the job and even better, the kindly cab driver, Leroy, has taken a shine to her. Naomi hasn’t met a nice person in a long, long time, and Leroy fits the bill quite well.

A few days on the job and Naomi wonders what she’s gotten herself into, but she decides to stick it out.

Ruthless people abound at Nob Hill Estate and Naomi isn’t immune to their slings and arrows. But her hardworking, resourceful, and caring nature brings change to the home and is especially noticed by the invalid owner of the estate, Henry Sanderforth.

Things take a dangerous turn when Naomi discovers how Sanderforth’s authority has been completely usurped by his employees, even to the point of him being held hostage in his room. With Leroy’s help and sheer determination, Naomi sets out to uncover the house’s twisted secrets, even if it means losing everything she holds dear…

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Sep 29, 2009
• ISBN: 9781440164446

Gerhard J. W. Munster

Gerhard J.W. Munster was born in 1944 in Vienna, Austria. After moving to the United States, he settled in Winter Park, Florida, where he started his own weekly newspaper, The Winter Park/Maitland Observer, and worked as publisher and editor. Munster received several awards for his editorials and after twenty years, he sold the newspaper and retired along the St. John’s River with his wife, Karen.

Book preview

Naomi Of Nob Hill

Gerhard J. W. Munster

iUniverse, Inc.

New York Bloomington

Copyright © 2009 by Gerhard J. W. Munster

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

iUniverse books may be ordered through booksellers or by contacting:

iUniverse

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.iuniverse.com

1-800-Authors (1-800-288-4677)

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any Web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

ISBN: 978-1-4401-6445-3 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4401-6443-9 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4401-6444-6 (ebook)

iUniverse rev. date: 09/22/2009

Contents

Chapter I

Chapter II

Chapter III

Chapter IV

Chapter V

Chapter VI

Chapter VII

Chapter VIII

Chapter IX

Chapter X

Chapter XI

Chapter XII

Chapter XIII

Chapter XIV

Chapter XV

Chapter XVI

Chapter XVII

Chapter XVIII

Chapter XIX

Chapter XX

Chapter XXI

My foremost gratitude goes to my beautiful wife, Karen, who has selflessly provided me with countless breakfasts, snacks, and dinners while I was spending time with my laptop instead of her.

When we are systematically deprived of our dignity,

it influences the human mind to victimize itself

and thus becomes the weakest link in our quest for survival.

Yet there are some amongst us who have the rare ability

to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Those are the true survivors, who at their bleakest hour

find a starting point for a new life!

—Gerhard J. W. Munster

Chapter I 

Naomi

Most of San Francisco was still in a deep sleep, but that did not make a hair of difference to those pesky collection agencies calling long distance from the East Side of New York.

Naomi’s crummy old dial telephone kept on ringing relentlessly through the night, keeping her from a good night’s sleep. Just a few days ago she had considered unplugging that damn phone, but the health of Tilly—her aging stepmother, who lived in a nursing home for indigents on the outskirts of New Orleans—forced Naomi to put up with having to pick up the phone over and over again, thinking the call could be about Tilly. She was stricken by dementia and a failing heart. Naomi felt that because of that unfortunate situation she had to pick up every call, and when it was not about Tilly, it was one of those collection agency calls. Naomi was tired of having to come up with a new excuse as to why she could not make her long-overdue payments.

Life was hell right now. Naomi sighed loudly. Her eyes raised toward the heavens …God, she called out, let me sleep. Why me? Why now?…Please … make ’em all go away … Lord, please help me find any job that pays more than just my rent! She swung around, reached under her bed, got hold of a half-empty gallon bottle of cheap Chablis. She unscrewed the cap and filled her empty coffee cup to the rim. The wine was warm but soothing. Lying down on her bed, Naomi reminisced about her past and thought about all the ups and downs she had gone through in life. Well, at least I have my health, she thought, and with this she finally was able to go to sleep.

It was almost six in the morning when the phone rang again. This call was different. It was Laquisha Johnson, the unpleasant night nurse from Shady Pines Nursing Home in New Orleans. She informed Naomi that her stepmother had passed away that night and that Shady Pines needed instructions from Naomi as to what to do with Tilly’s remains. They also needed some money to cover the final expenses. The news was somewhat expected, yet still sad and painful. Naomi knew that her stepmother had been in a lot of pain for far too long, and with her health failing rapidly, Naomi felt, Tilly was better off in heaven than in that horrible decaying nursing home. God bless her, she was such a loving woman and hardworking person, Naomi thought out loud. With much sadness, she realized that she would not even be able to afford a funeral for Tilly. Naomi thanked the nurse for calling and told her that she was not able to come up with any money right now, but that she would try to send some money as soon as she got a job again.

The nurse said, I guess we’ll have to call the city to bury her, and then growled some more nasty words into the receiver and hung up.

Tilly’s soul must have been in heaven already, and if there was such a thing, she must have known how sad Naomi was, because through that dark and angry-looking sky there suddenly opened a small window, and the sun peaked through beautifully, hitting her small kitchen window with the glint of a tiny sunbeam. Naomi sat down on her wobbly kitchen chair, and she took out some old photographs that she had kept in a rusty old-fashioned coffee can that Tilly gave her many years ago. She looked up at that little hole in the sky and said, Thanks, Tilly. I love you and I’ll miss you and you’ll be in my heart forever … and Tilly, please forgive me for not being able to give you a nice funeral.

Suddenly, a little cloud high up in the sky changed its shape and began to look like an angel. Good-bye, Tilly, Naomi thought. Then she lovingly looked at those pictures while clutching some of them to her chest. They brought back cherished memories, some good, some sad, but they were her memories and only hers to keep forever!

Naomi always called Tilly by her first name. That’s what Tilly wanted. She once told her I’m not your real mom, but I’ll always love you, as your mom would have. Tilly had lost her husband and only child in a fire and probably didn’t want to get too close to her, Naomi thought. Naomi never knew her biological mother. Tilly told her that her mother died of complications while giving birth to her. Naomi never really got to know her father either. After her mother died, he apparently was looking for a woman to raise his child. He married Tilly, who was all too willing to care for this little baby girl, after losing her own daughter. According to Tilly, Naomi’s father was never able to hold a job. Tilly told her that sometimes he would disappear for weeks on end. One day he never returned. Nobody has ever seen nor heard from him since.

Naomi LaFontaine knew she was broke. She had no money to travel and no means to take care of Tilly’s final burial arrangements. She had to let the City of New Orleans take care of this and bury her in a pauper’s grave. Naomi shuddered at the thought of lying in a dark, cold grave. Would this be her fate also when her time came, with no one to mourn, no proper funeral? After all, she had no relatives or family that she knew of.

Just four months ago, Naomi had lost her low-paying and mind-numbing quality control job at Associated Pool Supplies. Bruce Rutherford, her supervisor, was a jerk. That sleazy old two-faced bastard wanted her to work late, wait until everyone was gone for the day, and hit her up for personal favors, like skinny-dipping in one of the salesroom’s hot tubs. She had put up with this for too long because she really needed a paycheck. However, during her last days at the company, Naomi just couldn’t fake the enthusiasm for this any longer to please the jerk. He retaliated and started interviewing new talent. Within a few days he hired a new girl with a very short skirt and a tight, low-cut blouse, exposing her voluptuous boobs. That same afternoon he let Naomi go.

Ignoring the ringing phone again, she went to her tiny kitchenette in her sparsely furnished efficiency and opened her last can of beans, took some leftover gravy, and made herself a late breakfast. Besides several empty bottles of cheap wine and a few crushed beer cans in the trash bin, there was one lonely can of beer in the back of her small refrigerator. She looked at it and said, Cheers … you are going to be the last cold one for a long while.

Chapter II 

The Job Search

It was as hot as blazes. Her window air conditioner had not worked for several days when Pete Fox, the apartment manager, pounded impatiently on her front door.

Hey, Naomi, open up. I need some rent money—this ain’t a shelter for homeless hookers. He then hollered, You give me some sugar, sweet thing, and I will let you stay a few more days!

Screw you, Pete, she yelled back through the closed door, raising her eyes to the heavens above. Oh crap. What now? What next? she thought.

Whenever she was in a jam like this, she took the back fire escape, so no one knew that she was coming or going. She walked for almost an hour to the wharf, sat down on a bench, and grabbed a copy of the Chronicle that someone had left behind, before the wind could blow it away.

Suddenly she held on to that newspaper like her life depended on it and tried to turn the pages to the classifieds. The wind was annoying, but she finally managed to handle the mangled newspaper pages and find the job section. Help wanted,. it read. Yup, how low can you go? she said to herself, reading the personals and the employment columns. Help wanted—fish market, Help wanted—hospital aide, etc., etc. And then there it was:

Wanted, cleaning help, single female, nonsmoker, nondrinker only. In-house accommodations and meals provided. Long-term employment desired. Apply in person at Nob Hill Estate between 9 AM and 5 PM.

Wow … that’s the one, she said. Thank you, Jesus. Hallelujah!

Naomi’s mind exploded. How old is this newspaper? she asked herself. What day is it today, anyway? Summoning all her thoughts, she shouted across the path to a young, professional-looking female jogger.

Hey, miss … excuse me … what day is it today?

Monday … you moron. Get a job and quit living off my tax dollars, you bitch, she yelled back.

Wow, I must look like a derelict. Does it really show? she thought. Cramming the classified section into her overstuffed bag, she started walking back to her apartment. I’ve got to make myself look nice ’n’ clean, an’ get my big ass into gear, she thought to herself. She started picking up her pace, faster than she ever remembered. There was something in the back of her mind that told her that her luck might be changing.

Sneaking up the fire escape to her apartment as quietly and as fast as she could, to avoid Pete, she suddenly felt a tremendous sense of rush and urgency. Maybe this job was still available, and maybe this would be her ticket out of this stressful mess.

Naomi was tired of her life and her circumstances; she was sooo ready to start over and get away from her current situation. She started snickering in her mind, while imagining herself living in a free live-in situation on a private estate, with a phone that was not in her name and an address to hide away from those pesky collection agencies. She delighted in the thought of Pete Fox, the jackass rent collector, having to get a locksmith to enter her apartment, just to find it empty! Wishful thinking, she thought.

She took out her best Sunday church dress and her best shoes, even put on stockings. Naomi felt she was on a mission.

August surely is not the best month to walk in sweltering heat through Frisco. Naomi flagged down a cab and hoped that arriving in style at Nob Hill Estate would give her a better chance. Lord, please let that job be mine! I really need it, she thought!

Even though it was Monday, traffic was horrendous, and slow. Naomi was getting concerned about the taxi fare.

Listen, she said to the cabby. My name’s Naomi. I am broke and I only have ten bucks on me. I am hoping to get a cleaning job at a place called Nob Hill Estate. So if my ten bucks doesn’t cut it, take me as far as it will, and I’ll walk the rest—whenever your meter hits the ten-dollar mark.

It’s okay, sister, said the cabby. I didn’t take my lunch break yet, so I can just get you to your appointment. Looks like you need a break, girl … okay? Where are you from, sister? he asked. You sound like a southern girl.

Louisiana, she said. New Orleans, to be exact.

Oh yeah. Leroy Johnson’s the name, he answered, and he reached over the driver’s backrest to extend his hand to introduce himself. His weather-beaten face was dripping with sweat, yet he managed to have a warm smile, and he said, You better have a skin like an elephant, sister. As a cabby, I got to know some of the people working at that estate—just snobs and assholes, but that’s just my opinion. He pulled up to this humongous wrought iron gate with a uniformed guard at the door. Leroy handed Naomi a mangled business card from the cab company; on the back it had his name and his private phone number. This trip is on the house, he said. Keep your chin up, sister, and give me a call if you need a ride.

As Leroy pulled away, Naomi’s eyes were already focused on the guard at the gate. Yes, ma’am, can I help you? he said.

Naomi pulled out the ad from the Chronicle and said, I’m here to inquire about the cleaning job.

The guard took the receiver off the wall-mounted telephone and dialed a number and said, I have a black woman out here asking about a cleaning job.

The bellowing voice on the other end of the phone clearly said, Does she look respectable?

Well, kind of, the guard hollered back into the receiver.

Good. Send her in, Stevie boy, the voice said. She’d better be better than that ugly old hag you let through the gate yesterday, you idiot! I’ll get you for that later, you jerk! The phone just made a loud click and the voice was gone.

Wow, Naomi said. You’ve got to put up with this all the time?

Yup, Steve said. I’ve got bills to pay and mouths to feed. Good luck in there. Hope you’ll stay longer than a month!

I think I can handle it—I’ve had worse! she said, while looking at his polished brass name tag. Steve Logan, it read.

Can I call you Steve? Naomi asked, admiring his name tag and his spotless blue uniform.

That’s fine, he said. Steve pressed a button which opened a smaller door next to the huge wrought iron gate, and he directed Naomi to take a narrow, winding path to the left, passing along the vast wrought iron fence through a well-manicured wooded section of the estate and then leading past a maintenance building. The brick path ended at what looked like a large redbrick guesthouse with a balcony above the entrance.

Nob Hill Estate Personnel, the sign on the heavy oak front door said. Wow, this is how the other half lives, Naomi thought. She knocked first and waited for a response. Nothing seemed to happen. Then she noticed a brass doorbell button and pressed it. Naomi stood in front of that door and felt somewhat intimidated. Did someone hear me knocking? Did anyone hear that doorbell? Maybe I should just open the door and walk in." she thought.

Chapter III 

Interview from Hell

Mesmerized by the sheer beauty of the gardens, the neatly maintained lawns, Naomi almost overheard the sound of a woman coming from inside the building. It was a disturbingly loud and shrill voice. Naomi’s heart started pounding, and she quickly realized that the voice was the same as that of the woman she had just heard over the speakerphone at the guardhouse.

Are you going to come in, or do I need to send you an invitation?! Don’t just stand out there. Get a move on, for crying out loud, if you want to get a job here at Nob Hill! You hear me?

Naomi pushed the door open and walked into a corridor. The voice came from an office located on the left-hand side of the passage. Naomi entered and said, Hello. I am Naomi. I am here for an interview.

The woman looked like a hefty Germanic woman with a severe-looking face. She said, Come in, and sneered. I am Miss Heidi. I handle all the hiring and I do the firing. Without giving Naomi the slightest opportunity to answer, she immediately continued with her rude ranting and raving. Steve, down there at the gate, just told me on the phone that you are here for the housekeeping position. He told me that you looked a little better than most of these other useless wash-ups we’ve had here lately … wash-ups don’t last very long here with me!

Miss Heidi’s voice sounded like she was growling, with a very distinct, harsh German accent. She wiped some sweat from her heavy neck and her forehead with a handkerchief and then she bellowed out, Alright, with the unpleasant voice of a storm trooper. You look smarter than those other losers, but I need you to start today! Again, she would not give Naomi a chance to even answer. Alright, she repeated. Let’s get on with it—I don’t have all day! Her voice started quivering with sheer delight as she took a measured look at Naomi. Her stance was befitting that of a Prussian general. There are security cameras everywhere, she announced. So if you’ve come here to steal, you’re out of luck, and if you are lazy, you’ll last from twelve to lunchtime here. You understand? Then she went on to say, "In addition, if you intend to keep this job, and you are showing some willingness to work, you will start early in the morning at six o’clock sharp. You begin cleaning my personal quarters here at the estate, and when you’re done with my place, your next cleaning routine at the estate’s guest accommodations starts at exactly seven.

You will be sharing a room with Sophie; she is our gardener—not very bright, loves flowers and that sort. She’s a hard worker and a lesbian to boot … at least, I think, but you’re probably not her type anyway, so don’t worry about that. We pay once a month, your room is free, you eat three meals a day at our staff kitchen, and you get a free uniform. So you really don’t need any money anyway, but for some reason, everybody wants to get paid on top of that. Your starting pay is two hundred a week. If that’s okay with you, you can start today, she said. In eight weeks you get a raise, if you last that long.

Naomi was confused and shook her head. Did she just get the job, or not? Between all that cursing and growling and explaining what was to be expected of her, she must have missed something. Naomi needed a second to digest it all. A quick thought raced through her mind. Are all Germans like this? Does anybody know what kind of weird genes it takes to make people like this ominous Miss Heidi? She sure looks like she came straight out of Richard Wagner’s Lohengrin.

Naomi’s brief daydreaming was suddenly interrupted when Miss Heidi bellowed, What’s it gonna be? You’re in or you’re out? Speak, woman!

Naomi mumbled quickly, Yes, ma’am, I’m good with that! For a moment she wanted to grab Miss Heidi and give her a big hug, but quickly thought she’d better not. How would that woman know that her new roommate is probably a lesbian?

Heidi rummaged through a neatly organized black filing cabinet, shoved a piece of paper and a pen at her, and said, Here, fill this out. I’ll be back in a while to show you to your room and get you set up with a uniform and the basics of what you will be doing.

She came back awhile later and picked up Naomi’s job application and instructed her to sit there and wait. Over an hour had gone by. During the long wait, Naomi imagined all kinds of weird things. Was the new job she thought that was hers, out the door? The seemingly endless waiting drove Naomi crazy. She remembered what Tilly always told her: when in a jam pray to the Lord and hope for the best. Maybe Heidi had just checked Naomi’s credit history and other stuff that she was not really proud of. There were times when she had to do, what she had to do, to make ends meet. Maybe Miss Heidi got hold of Associated Pool Supplies and spoke to that louse Bruce Rutherford, her lying son-of-a-bitch ex-supervisor, or maybe she got hold of Pete Fox, the jackass rent collector from her apartment building. Her thoughts ran rampant. Suddenly the door opened, and a uniformed security guard came in and asked, Are you Naomi LaFontaine?

Yes, she answered.

I am going to escort you back to the gate, he said.

Naomi’s heart almost stopped. Even her knees buckled. She had thought she was in, but this did not appear to be true at all. What a blow! Was this some kind of a cruel joke from that German witch?

When they arrived at the gate, the man in uniform still had not uttered one word. His highly polished brass name tag read, Nob Hill Estate—Shawn O’Leary—Security.

Do you want me to call you a cab? he asked firmly.

Why? Naomi asked.

"Well, don’t you have any personal belongings you need to bring here to the estate? I hope you didn’t