Chapter XIV #2
Winona jumped in, taking a different tack.
Slamming her hand onto the counter, she leaned toward the agent and spoke in a firm tone, “The porters loaded ‘er case into the wrong car. It’s got ‘er husband’s legal documents in it. Mr. Turner ain’t gonna be too ‘appy.” The agent’s eyes snapped to attention at Winona’s tone.
Her lie forced Mae into following along as she pursed her lips at the interruption. Mae continued the charade in a haughty voice, “Our case has been placed in the wrong car—Car 0728—and it has important documents regarding my husband’s work.”
The ticket agent barely looked up from Winona. “I’m sorry, Ma’am, but you will have to see the yard clerk about that.”
“But we’ve already spoken to the yard clerk,” Winona insisted, “and he said to request the station master to find the final destination. We can’t seem to find ‘im anywhere. Do ye know how we can find ‘im?”
The agent looked behind her at the growing line and then over to the other agents. His eyes came back to rest on Winona. “Well, Ma’am, the stationmaster is very busy. I can take down your information if you’d like and have him get in contact with you.”
“So that’s it then? A gentleman’s legal papers get mis-routed and ye won’t even fetch the station master? What do ye call that—neglect? Theft?” Winona’s tone hardened, and any feigned sweetness ebbed. Her voice gained volume as she carried on.
“Now, ma’am…” The agent lifted both hands, palms out.
“Don’t ‘Ma’am’ me… This poor woman ‘as been through the wringer and yer jus gonna sit there and tell ‘er there’s nothin’ to be done?” Her voice carried further now, causing people in the forming line to turn their attention to the agent.
“But, ma’am… he’s a very busy man.” The agent tried again.
“He will be even busier once we file a complaint against the railway for stealing our bags!” Winona turned partially toward the line to ensure that the people waiting heard her.
“And I’ll need yer name for that complaint too.
” Eyes of the passersby were now being drawn all the more to the unfolding scene.
The agent’s eyes grew wide as his gaze bounced from Winona to Mae and back to Winona. “Very well…” he grumbled, his boot catching on the chair’s leg as he stood. “Wait here and I will see if I can fetch him for you.”
As he turned to leave, Mae glanced at Winona, who had straightened to her full height again. She smiled over at Mae and winked. As Mae looked up at the clock, she saw that the train had been gone for well over an hour.
Mae raised her eyebrows at Winona’s performance.
She had to concede that Winona’s tact had worked just as well, if not better than what she had in mind.
Mae didn’t like it, but it had worked. She stood resolutely with Winona at the desk, checking the time on the clock repeatedly.
After nearly twenty minutes, the agent returned.
A well-dressed man in a navy uniform with brass buttons approached the ticket desk.
His staunch brown mustache created a parallel line with his knitted eyebrows.
“Ma’am, you’ve had important documents misplaced on a train car leaving the station? ”
“Yes, they were mis-routed on Car 0728 headed toward Chicago.” Mae tried to pull her shoulders back. He was quite a bit taller than her and she had to crane her neck to make eye contact.
“I will wire ahead for you to have the luggage removed prior to leaving Chicago.” He took out his notepad and pen. “May I have your husband’s name and contact information?”
A flush crept up Mae’s neck, and she gripped her purse in front of her with both hands. “But he needs them. What if they don’t get the right suitcase?” Mae hedged.
“I’m sure they will locate the suitcase if it is there. We would have it back by this evening.” His tone was even as he tried to soothe her worries. He poised his pen over the pad and looked at her expectantly.
“But if they don’t, do you know where the final destination will be?”
“These things happen, Ma’am,” he tried to reassure her. “I’m sure it will be resolved in a day or two.” He brought out his pocket watch and glanced quickly at the time. She heard a small sigh before he repeated, “Your husband’s name, please.”
“It was Car 0728. Is there a way to find out where it’s headed after Chicago? My husband will be so upset if it isn’t retrieved.”
The stationmaster brought his focus from the notepad up to Mae’s face.
His face had reddened and his jaw was clenched.
He slowly lowered the pen and the pad. “Ma’am, I don’t know where the final destination of a Chicago train would be.
I am the stationmaster here in New York.
I am only responsible for the immediate destinations of this station’s departing trains.
Now,” he ground out, “if you could provide your husband’s details. I have work I need to return to.”
“Henry Turner,” she mumbled. “111 West 80th St.”
“And the description of the case?”
Mae hesitated. She recalled the case in the freight handler’s hand. “It’s a brown leather satchel with a white pearl handle.”
“Thank you. I will wire the station master’s office in Chicago and have the bag rerouted to Grand Central on the next available train. If it can’t be located, your husband will be notified and he may wire the Chicago office to determine its final location.”
“Can’t you include a request for the final destination of the car number now, in case it can’t be found? Would it not be wise to include that request now?” Mae tried to keep her voice haughty, becoming aware just after the words escaped her mouth that the stationmaster took them as condescending.
He huffed to himself and rolled his eyes.
“Chicago won’t answer until they log the manifest at the yard.
And they’ve been particular lately about who’s asking…
” The station master flipped his notepad closed and tucked it along with the pen into his coat.
He nodded brusquely in Mae’s direction, turned on his heel and strode back in the direction from which he had come.