“I’ve thought about that, too,” Emily said.“And I think I could ask my dad.I think he’d help.It says here a parent can bring their daughter before a judge.He could say I’m ‘unmanageable.’I am, in a way,” she added with a self-conscious grin that Maeve returned with interest.
“I can see how much this means to you,” Doris said.“And I know you want to prove yourself.I understand, we’ve all been there.But this is one hell of a way to get your feet wet.”
“I know.But I think I’m ready.I want to do it.”
Doris ran her tongue over her teeth, twitched her head almost in resignation as the other three women watched on.Emily tried not to get too excited about the air of agreement that seemed to have settled over them all.
“You’ve got your father’s grit, that’s for sure,” Doris said.“All right.I need to get some things done before the weekend.But on Monday, I say we at least call the prison and see if we can swindle any info out of anyone there before we commit to this.”She stood, studying Emily.“That fire in your belly is freshly kindled from what you learned today.I know how that is.But let it cool a little over the weekend, and see if the spark is still there come Monday, okay?”
CHAPTER 7
EMILY
Early June, 1961
The Monday after the meeting in Doris’s office with the staff writers, Emily glanced at the clock above the door of the Closet, as she had every half-hour since she arrived.
10:52.
Doris had meetings in the early morning, but had left a memo for Emily to come to her office at eleven and they would discuss “the Mercer matter.”Emily had spent most of the weekend and that morning making discreet phone calls and reviewing her notes on the Female Refuges Act to figure out exactly what steps they would need to take—ifDoris approved it—to get her before a judge.
With a little flutter of excitement, she collected her notes and stood to go fetch herself a fresh cup of tea before the meeting.She’d gone just two steps when Betty swept through the door.
“Betty!”Emily said, a little exasperated.“Where have you been?I wondered if you were ill.”
“No-oooo!”Betty sang playfully.A grin split across her face and she held her left hand up, wiggling a finger with a sparkling diamond ring.Her nails matched her pale-pink trench coat.“Stuart proposed on Saturday night, at the Silver Rail!I’m engaged, Emily!Finally!”
“Oh!”Emily forced an expression of cheer onto her face, chose hernext words carefully.“Well, this is just what you wanted, isn’t it?Congratulations, Betty.”
“We were up late last night celebrating with our families.Lots of champagne,” Betty said, “So I’m a teensy bit tardy, I know.”Emily raised an eyebrow.She was over two hours late.“But I figured, special circumstances and all…”
Betty shed her coat and sat down, grin wilting to a pouty frown at the sight of her overflowing in-tray.
“So when’s the big day?”Emily asked, struggling to feign enthusiasm.
“Well,” Betty said, her tone shifting to businesslike, “Mother wants us to wait an entireyearbecause she thinks a spring wedding is chic.But Stuart doesn’t want to wait that long.And you can understand why—he’s waited long enough.”She winked.“So I think we might aim for September.”
“Oh wow, three months,” Emily said, backing toward the door.If she didn’t extract herself from this unwelcome conversation soon, she’d miss the opportunity to get her tea before the meeting with Doris.Also, the encroaching panic might win.
“Yes,” Betty said happily.“So I have to let Doris know today that I’ll be leaving.”
Emily tried to resist the retort, but it came out anyway.“Why do you have to leave just because you’re getting married?”
Betty looked at Emily as though she’d lost her senses.“I can’tworkonce I’m married,” she said, scowling.“I’ll be raising a family soon.And besides, Stuart wouldn’t stand the shame of having a working wife.Jem wouldn’t either, would he?”
Emily’s fists clenched at her sides.She needed to get out of there.“Well, it certainly won’t be the same without you,” she offered.
Betty leaned back in her chair.“It won’t be long for you, then, will it?You’re what, mid-twenties?Not getting any younger, really.You could be next.And then maybe they could turn this place back into a proper closet,” she added, nose crinkling at the windowless walls.“It wouldn’t take much.”
Emily was rooted to the spot, blinking.
You could be next.Not getting any younger.The spinster’s refrain, an insult wrapped in the clever silkiness of well-intentioned optimism.
“And if you’re on your way out, too, you needn’t take your work soseriously, Emily,” Betty continued, relentless.“Do you really want to be like these women here?”She dropped her voice, cocked her head toward the open door.“Spending all your time at the office, missing out on family life?I wonder what their husbands must think of it all.”
Emily exhaled her outrage in a cough of disgust.She was genuinely surprised by Betty’s words.As much as Emily had found her silly and stupid over the past year they’d been coworkers, they’d never had a real argument.Betty hadn’t cared enough about any of her work to dig her three-inch heels in on anything, but clearly the engagement had caused her to jettison all pretense to collegiality.She had one foot out the door now, and was thrilled about it.
“Theydohave families and family lives,” Emily said.“They just have other ambitions and dreams, too.Other things they think are important.And so do I,” she added with a snap of defiance.“There’s nothing wrong with that.”
