Free Marta's Legacy Collection by Francine Rivers Page B

get away!” She burst into tears.
    The only sound in the kitchen was the burbling soup. Everyone stared at her. “Get back to work!” Warner shouted. He pushed Marta into the cold room off the kitchen. “Are you leaving or running away?”
    She sat on the edge of the bed, head in hands. “What does it matter?” She wiped her face. She thought of Elise staying in the same place, remaining a child for the rest of her life. “I know what I want in life, and I’m going after it. I’m not going to let things happen to me. I’m going to make things happen!”
    Warner sat beside her. “Why are you in such a hurry? You’re only sixteen. You have time.”
    “You don’t understand, Warner.” Sometimes she didn’t understand. One day she wanted to run as far away and as fast as she could, and then the guilt would set in and she wondered if she shouldn’t go home, take care of Mama and Elise, and forget all about her dreams of making a better life for herself.
    “You want to own a hotel, ja ?” He snorted. “You think life will be good then. Work, work, and more work. That’s all you’ll ever do if you get what you want.”
    “Work, work, and more work is what I have now.” If she went home, Papa would rule her life forever. “I’d rather work for myself than work to put money in someone else’s pocket!”
    “Pigheaded girl.” When she tried to stand up, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her down again. “You still have much to learn from me about German cooking.”
    “You’ve taught me enough, Warner.” She gave him a watery smile. “And I am grateful. But I’m going to Montreux.”
    “What will your family have to say about that?”
    “Nothing.” Hermann had followed his dream and joined the Army. Mama would always have Elise, and Elise would have Mama. Let Papa shoulder the responsibility for those God had given into his care.
    “I see the pain in you, Marta.”
    She wrenched free and went back into the kitchen to work.
    Warner Brennholtz came to the train station as Marta left. She hadn’t expected to see him again. When she tried to thank him for coming to see her off, no words would come.
    “You didn’t tell your family, did you?”
    She shook her head.
    Stepping close, Warner took her hand and pressed several heavy coins into her palm, closing her fingers around them.
    “Marta, don’t cry. Enjoy this money; don’t hoard it.” He planted his hands firmly on her shoulders. “I’m going to speak to you like a father. You’re young. Have some fun when you get to Montreux. Go dancing! Laugh! Sing!” He kissed her on both cheeks and let her go.
    Marta stepped up behind the last man boarding the train.
    Warner called out to her before she went inside the passenger car. “When you have that hotel, write to me.” He grinned broadly. “Maybe I’ll come cook for you!”

    Luisa von Olman invited Marta to stay until she could find work in one of the Montreux hotels or restaurants. Marta thought it would be easy. Montreux sat perched on the mountainside, Bernese-style houses, mansions, and grand hotels tucked like elaborate nests into winding cliff roads. Wealthy patrons strolled along cobbled pathways lined with linden trees and scented with lavender and lilacs, or sat on lawn chairs enjoying the view of cerulean Lake Geneva. Servants offered cake and melted chocolate for dipping.
    Marta walked the steep streets for days. She found all the grand hotels and restaurants uninterested in a girl who could speak only German. Broadening her search to lesser neighborhoods, she spotted a Help Wanted sign in the window of Ludwig’s Eatery. From the unkempt exterior, Marta could understand why.
    The owner, Frau Gunnel, gave Marta a curt nod. “You’ll have a week to prove yourself. Room and board and thirty francs a month.” Marta held her tongue about the paltry pay. “Hedda!” Frau Gunnel called out. A pretty blonde setting beer steins on a tray glanced their way. Two other girls older than