THE TWO-DOLLAR THANKSGIVING TABLE:
Thrifty Decor for the Savvy Housewife
She had just finalized the title when the front desk receptionist, Constance, popped her head around the door frame.
“Do you have a minute?”she asked.
Emily looked up from her work.“Of course.”
“There’s a man at the desk, and he’s got something…I’m not really sure what to do with it.”
As the editorial assistant and with her “office” the closest to front reception, Emily was Constance’s point of contact if Doris or Clara couldn’t be reached by phone.Emily was then responsible for relaying the information to the appropriate member of staff.She didn’t mind being the messenger, though, as it gave her a ready excuse to engage with Doris and the staff writers, learn a bit more about the inner workings of the magazine from whatever message she was delivering.
“What do you mean?”Emily asked, puzzled.
“I’ll let him tell you,” Constance said, withdrawing.With a curious twinge at the air of mystery, Emily followed her out into the small marble-floored lobby.
The man was standing, looking uncomfortable, near the reception desk.He wore a jumpsuit with the nameTedstitched into the breast in yellow thread, and was stooping a little, as though about to walk through a low doorway.
“May I help you?”Emily asked politely.
He nodded in her direction.“Afternoon, miss.I uh, I was sent down here by the lady upstairs,” he said, pointing at the ceiling.
“FromMaclean’s?”
“Yeah.I’ve been around and around, see.It’s just that I’ve come across a strange thing, and I didn’t know where to go with it.The people upstairs sent me down here.”
Emily’s brow furrowed.“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“I’m a delivery driver, see.Groceries.To all sorts of places.Restaurants, businesses and the like.One of my drop-offs is the old prison over on King West.The ladies’ prison.”
Emily wasn’t familiar with it.She nodded, encouraging him to continue.
“Well, I was making my drop this morning, and a ball of paper up’n falls on my head from out of the sky while I was leaning over, shifting the crates.”He reached into his pocket and withdrew what looked like a crumpled note with blue lettering.
“The ladies were having their outside time,” he went on.“I see them sometimes, just walking in circles or standing around in groups.I looked up, and through the fence I see this girl running back toward the jail doors.”
“Well, what did the paper say?”Emily asked.She was still flummoxed, but her curiosity was growing.
“I think it’s best you read it for yourself, miss,” he said, taking a step toward her and holding out the note.She took it and smoothed it out.It was written in poor penmanship with multiple spelling errors.It was also in crayon.
Emily’s eyes flew across the lines, widening with shock as she read.There was no name attached.
Delivery man—we need help.We are starved—dirty baths—they expariment things on us, medisins that make us sick, and electrisity—Rats and lice everywhere.Food not enough, and terrible.I done nothing wrong and they still sent me here on the incorigible law.Loads of women are hear because of it, and done nothing.You put a toe out of line and you get locked up alone.No windows or exersise or nothing down there.Doctor is evil.Please tell the police!
Sined,
Incorigible
“ ‘Incorrigible,’ ” Emily said aloud.
The elevator doors opened then and Doris stepped off.“Good day, sir,” she said to Ted.“What’s that?”she asked Emily as she breezed over to them, carrying the scent of coffee and something fried that was wrapped in an oily paper bag.
“Look at this, Doris.”Emily handed over the letter.Doris deposited the bagged lunch onto the reception desk and took the paper.Her eyes slid across it.
“Good God,” she said.“Who is this person, ‘Incorrigible’?Did you bring this in?”she asked Ted.
“Yes, ma’am.Fell from over the fence at the women’s prison.”
