Two Signatures Required

“Did you hear about those five kids that were born a few days ago?” George overheard whispered voices from a table over. “Oh, yes. The poor mother, five kids all at once? Must be a handful.”
George was in a musky diner, stomach growling. The smell of dirt and old grease filled his nostrils. Quintuplets? Huh, those are unheard of. George thought. This diner was pretty empty these days but still, a good resource for gossip. Since the stock market had crashed, many had no money left over for groceries let alone going out to eat. George was one of the lucky few to still be doing okay throughout all the chaos. As long as he could find interesting acts to put in his freakshow.
Of course, Chicago’s Century of Progress Exhibition didn’t just feature freaks but a history of Chicago. George was just in charge of finding the freaks. He was used to traveling all over to find them. Quintuplets were unheard of, George knew he just had to get his hands on them, before someone else did. 
He decided to eat, then talk to his boss about his discovery, but first he needed more information. He leaned closer to the table the men were sitting at trying to hear as much as he could. A name and a place was all he needed to get the ball rolling.
“...somewhere in Ontario, I heard,” the first guy continued, glancing back to see if someone was listening. “Name is Dianne or Dionne, something like that. Anyways, the wife and kids are waiting for me at home.” He pushed his chair back, creating a horrible screeeech. “Abyssinia!” He said with a wave of his hand. 
The second guy took a swig of his booze, finishing it off. Who could afford that, these days. The thought crossed George’s mind while he was staring down at his own city juice. Yes he has always had a decent amount of money and never went hungry, he had a roof over his head. But the depression was hard on everyone, forcing everyone, no matter who you are, to cut back on their spending. 
He considered himself lucky to still have a job but with everyone else struggling, it was getting increasingly harder to keep his job. His job relied on finding freaks and with no one around, it was next to impossible to find or hear anything. Eventually his slugburger made its way to the table. George looked at it and sighed before remembering no one else could afford this luxury, if you could even call it that.
He laid a couple of lincolns on the table to pay for his meal after finishing it. Enough to pay for his meal and rushed to his office, hoping to give his boss this good news. The drive over was short but George felt lucky every time he drove his car. Not many these days were fortunate enough to have a car. Although he could quickly lose it with the loss of his job, it was almost necessary for him to own a car with the type of work he does…but no work means no use for a car. The thought terrified George.
It was a cold miserable spring day. It almost seemed as if Mother Nature herself was depressed. The clouds threatened rain that George knew would never come. Dust was in the air making it difficult to breathe. It wasn’t nearly as bad as it was in the Canadian prairies, though. George had been there recently, he had gone because of a rumor he had heard. Another freak to put on display but he was too late. They had already signed a different contract. This time though, he was determined to get the signature. The quintuplets would be his in a few day’s time.
Things may have not been great where he was but he was certainly glad he didn’t live there. George shivered, pulling his long black jacket together. His zipper had broken ages ago and he hadn’t the money to fix it or buy a new one. George had no sewing skills, that was a women’s job. Trouble was, George had no wife. Not even any kind of special lady in his life. George was an only child, his father died the previous year. George had anticipated the death of his father because his mother had died a few years previously from an unknown sickness. His father, stricken with heartbreak, passed not long after. His parents seemed to have been made for each other and George had hoped to one day find the same kind of love. 
George pulled up to a small one-story brick office building. It was big enough for a small Dr. practice and attached with a glass door was the entrance to his own office which he shared with a couple of coworkers. All of them close to losing their jobs as well, it was truly dark and scary times. Next door was his boss’s office, Peter Wilson. 
George paused outside the door that led to Mr. Wilson’s office to gather his thoughts. There wasn’t much money to spend if they weren’t getting anything out of it. It was critical to get this deal, without any hiccups. George knew that because his last trip was a bust, Mr. Wilson wouldn’t just be willing to let him go. He had to approach this just right. George knocked confidently, holding his breath, waiting for a reply.
“Come in,” he heard a muffled voice say. George opened the door into a small unorganized office. His boss had never been one for organization.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Wilson,” George greeted. He refrained from wrinkling his nose at the moldy smell. He was used to the scattered papers and dust that coated every inch of the place, but he could never get used to that god awful smell. 
“Quintuplets, born in Ontario just a few days ago. They are ours as long as I get there quickly.” George kept it short and to the point, he knew how Mr. Wilson hated small talk.
Mr. Wilson leaned back in his chair, rubbing his stubble as if deep in thought. “How do I know this trip isn’t going to be another bust? You know we are struggling just as much as everyone else is.”
“If I leave now, I promise you, we will have them,” he prayed that his boss would fund this trip, this was more than likely, his last hope to keep his job.
“Last chance, Mr. Carlton.” Mr. Wilson always addressed George by his last name so it didn’t phase him much. George straightened his tie, trying to contain his excitement.
“I won’t let you down, sir.”
George rushed home to pack a bag full of clothes, toiletries and a few non-perishable snacks that would hopefully last his few day long trip. On second thought, George decided to add some muffins, just in case. He had a quick bland dinner and figured he would get to bed early, to get an early start the following morning.
George woke before the sun had risen, packed his car and started his journey. The day started out the same as the days previous, cloudy, cold and dusty. Summer was normally well on its way this time of year but it seems as if the weather took a page out of its inhabitants' feelings. Everyone was down in the dumps struggling, so the weather was too. George took note of this, but felt it didn’t apply to him. He was smart, still had a job and a home. He had it really good, while the rest of the world struggled. He laughed to himself as he thought about this job/life saving trip. He truly had nothing to worry about, as long as he got that signature.
George drove all day and all night, excited to get to his destination. He figured he would learn exactly where he was headed after he crossed the border. His trip stayed uneventful until he finally stopped in Toronto. He didn’t know where exactly he was going so he decided to go to an apple in Ontario. All in the hopes that the bigger population would lead him to his destination faster.
Things in Ontario were much worse than at home. The air seemed to be brown with the amount of dust in it. George choked getting out of his car because of the dirt-filled-air. He had pulled up to the nearest store the moment he arrived in Toronto. He needed to get his hands on the local newspaper as soon as possible. He lucked out seeing a freshly stocked newspaper stand. Five Baby Girls Born To Ontario Mother the headline read. George felt like jumping up and down with joy. This was going to be way easier than he had anticipated. He brought a paper to the register, threw a few cents at the cashier for payment and read the article before leaving.
On May 28, five identical baby girls were born prematurely to parents Elzire and Oliva Dionne just outside of Callander, Ontario. The names (in order of birth) are: Yvonne Édouilda Marie Dionne, Annette Lillianne Marie Allard, Cécile Marie Émilda Langlois, Émilie Marie Jeanne Dionne, and Marie Reine Alma Houle.
George stopped reading, tucking the newspaper under his arm and walked out to his car. He officially had enough information to find and write up a contract. Mr. Wilson had already drafted one up, George had just needed names, dates, addresses, and most importantly, signatures.
“Have a good evening, sir!” George heard the store keep say as the bells jingled announcing his exit.
A coughing fit interrupted Geroge in his hurried thought process. The air was truly worse in Canada. He couldn’t wait to be back home, where the air was slightly better and where his riches and fame awaited him. He just needed a simple signature. George’s stomach growled as he checked the time. He knew it was a few hour drive to Callander and thought it would be too late by the time he got there. He figured it would be best to get a good night's sleep at a motel and start fresh in the morning. He drove a few minutes down the road and saw a musky looking motel, Vacancy, the sign read. He saw a diner next door. Perfect he thought.
This motel didn’t have much of a lobby, it looked more like an office. Very similar to Mr. Wilson’s in fact. Papers were piled messily everywhere he looked and even almost the exact same moldy smell. George resisted the urge to wrinkle his nose. There was a bell in the center of the desk, George brushed his hand across the top.
An older looking man rushed from somewhere in the back. His silver hair was smoothed flat against his wrinkly looking head. He couldn’t have been much shorter than George.
“Welcome, how may I be of help today, sir?” His voice raspy, as if he hadn’t had a reason to use it in a while.
“Yes please, I need a room for one night. Single bed please, I’m here alone on business.”
“Of course, please fill out this form,” he slid a pen and a piece of paper toward George. “I will be right back with your room key.”
George started on the form, all straightforward stuff. Name, date, address. Number of expected nights and a few other minor details. George filled out everything and slid it back towards the old man.
“Perfect!” The old man handed George a room key attached to a numbered key chain. “We will accept your payment tomorrow morning as the ol’ lady is out on an errand right now and she handles all the cash. I hope you enjoy your stay and if you need anything, the name is Earl. I will be here all night.”
“Thank you very much, sir.” George replied. 
George glanced at the room key to see what room he was in. 121. He grabbed his black suitcase from the car, found his room, thankfully on the ground floor. He wouldn’t have to worry about dragging his suitcase up a flight of stairs.
The room had less of that awful moldy smell, an ugly shade of green carpets, the beds had dark green comforters and there was a single dresser at the end of the bed. This would do for a night. He left the room to check out the diner. Food and sleep sounded quite pleasant.
Later on that night, George found himself sitting alone wondering what exactly he would say to the Dionne family in order to make them agree, sign the papers and eventually save his job.
His sleep was restless, with dreams about the Dionne family not signing the agreement, his boss firing him, ending with a gun he pointed at his own head. He would wake up drenched in sweat, heart pounding and a little bit of confusion until he remembered he was in a motel. He desperately needed this to go smoothly. He would do everything in his power to keep his job and avoid having squat.
It was about 6am when he decided to go find some sort of breakfast. He wasn’t insanely hungry but knew he had a big day ahead. George eyed his snacks, not much was left. Two muffins and a stale piece of bread left over from last night’s meal. He had packed much more but had eaten most of it on the way here. He grabbed one of the muffins, and slowly ate it while watching out the window. 
He wasn’t able to see the sunrise but he could smell the fresh morning air through the opened window. He had opened it sometime throughout the night to try and cool off. Birds were chirping which George thought was odd considering the time of year it was. Maybe birds come back home earlier here than they do at home, George thought. George had always been a morning person, being able to watch the sunrise from his kitchen window was a must when he was looking to purchase his own house. A house he was very much close to losing.
George showered, dressed in his usual black suit and dark gray tie. He left the motel room just as clean as he had found it. He went to the dingy old office to pay for his room
Receipt in hand, he started on the highway, ignoring those creeping thoughts: This isn’t going to work, enjoy your last trip in your car while you still can because it isn’t going to last much longer. He was absolutely terrified of losing his job. He reminded himself that confidence is key. Confidence is the key to being successful, the key to getting what you want and the key to being who you are. Right now, he is a man who is going to keep his job, his house and his car. He wasn’t going to let the world’s problems get him down. A few hours down the road and he finally saw the beautiful sign he had been watching for: Callander 1KM. 
He took the turn off into the small town. He drove around hoping for a hint of where these people who would save his job and his life could possibly live. Thankfully it wasn’t an apple so it didn’t take him long until he saw a small white house with what seemed to be at least half the town gathered around.
He parked his car down the road a little, in hopes of attracting less attention. The last thing he needed was the town to make the decision for the newborns fate before he even had a chance to try.
As he got closer to the house, the noise of scattered conversation got louder. George’s head was already pounding from the drive and the dry-dirt-air. Was it getting worse? George couldn’t tell. He took a deep breath which caused a coughing fit. He took a minute to regain his breath, readying himself for what was to come. It was now or never.
He pushed his way through the crowd, offering “excuse-me’s!” and “sorry’s!” at the appropriate times, knowing he was being rough but not caring. At the Dionne family’s door, he knocked and waited.
“We are not accepting visitors at this time-” George interrupted the voice he heard through the door. 
“I am from out of town. I need to speak with the Dionne family immediately, this is a very urgent and important business matter.” George’s voice was firm, he needed them to know he meant business.
The door creaked open revealing a balding man, he was tall, about average weight. 
“What can we do for you?” The man questioned.
“I think it would be best if I were to come inside, explain who I am and what I am prepared to offer you.” George stayed calm. He knew, for this to succeed, staying calm was essential.
“You must be quick then. My wife is sleeping for the first time in what I’m quite certain since the girls were born.” He stepped back to allow George through the doorway. “It has been an absolute nightmare! Five babies?  We suspected it may be twins but never in my wildest dreams…” The man trailed off then offered his hand to George, “My sincere apologies about my ramblings. The name is Oliva Dionne.” 
George sensed right away that this man, the father, would be easy to persuade. It seemed as if he regretted his choice to have these babies. Oliva guided George to the dining room table, offering a cup of tea. George gratefully accepted and took the room in, waiting.
The house was bare, a dining table was all that occupied this room. The walls looked like they were made of only wood. A faint smell of fresh dirty diapers was in the air, to be expected with five newborns, George guessed.
Oliva brought two cups of piping hot liquid back with him. George thanked him and slurped the tea, the hot liquid burned his tongue, preventing him from actually tasting anything. George set down his cup and introduced himself.
“I’m George Carlton, and I work for the Chicago’s Century of Progress Exhibition. Things have not been running as smoothly as we have been expecting them to during these dark times. Although, I was fortunate enough to hear about the birth of your quintuplets, identical, correct? I would love to offer your daughters the chance to come work with us. It is a marvelous opportunity for you and your family. We have a very generous offer here,” George paused assessing Oliva’s reaction. “We will provide care and transportation for your girls.”
George could have sworn he saw a sigh of relief come from Oliva. Oliva thought for a moment. A desperate man, looking for an escape, one he thought would never present itself, but yet, here it was. A chance to ride out the storm this world has become without having to worry about five newborns taking everything you have and everything you’ve worked for.
“Those are my babies we are talking about,” Oliva began but George knew it was a negotiation technique. This man is just trying to make George think he doesn’t want to give the babies up so George will offer more. George knew the amount listed in the offer papers that were nestled in his briefcase that he had brought with him from his car.
“I think my offer may intrigue you, Oliva.” George opened up the briefcase, finding the offer papers. George had already written in all the missing information last night at the motel. He handed them over to Oliva, his eyes widening as he scanned the page. George could almost feel the victory. The quintuplets were his.
“All I need is a signature there,” George pointed to a line on the document. “There is a small contract to sign then I’ll be on my way. My team will be in contact soon to arrange pickup and payment.”
Oliva hesitated, “Maybe we should review the contract before signing anything.”
“Of course, whatever makes you more comfortable.”
George and Oliva sifted through the contract, not many questions were asked.
“This appears to be an acceptable deal,” Oliva said when they were through. “So I just have to sign and then you will be in contact?”
George handed him a pen, “Shall we start?” George smiled, his job was saved! Oliva signed the papers, George directing him to all the correct spots. After everything had been signed, George packed up his things.
“Aces!” Oliva exclaimed. “I look forward to hearing from you, sir.” 
“Soon,” George waved his goodbye and walked himself out of the small house. 
The crowds outside had dispersed a little during his time inside. He checked his watch, an hour had gone by since he had shown up. Clearing the dirt-air out of his lungs, he decided to go back to the same motel as the previous night, sleep, and head back home the following day. Mr. Wilson and George would be celebrating soon.
The motel owners remembered George from his last stay, giving him the same room. He ate the same food at the same diner. Only difference between the two stays was the glorious amount of sleep George got. All his stress was finally gone. He could go on to be one of the only people not struggling throughout this difficult time. 
Goerge’s drive back to Chicago went by fast. He was ecstatic to be going home with the good news. The sky was dark, the air cold causing George to shiver as he got out of his car, now at his house. His house was nothing special, a small single floor brown brick building. It may not have been much, but George was nevertheless proud of it. Especially now that he knew he would get to keep it. George would go to the office the next morning, it was much too late to go now.
George ate, showered and slept, feeling refreshed for his career changing day. He was much too excited to eat any breakfast so he drove straight to the office.
He knocked on Mr. Wilson’s office door before entering, the usual mold smell hitting him immediately. Mr. Wilson looked angry, but why? George had succeeded in his missions. Oh but of course! He hadn’t handed the signed contract over yet. This must be the reason for his apparent anger.
“I got the signature!” George handed him the papers.
“Yes, you got A signature,” Mr. Wilson started. “I received a phone call yesterday stating just that. Do you understand what this means?”
George was utterly confused. “No…I-I-” George started stuttering, which he never did so he knew he was in trouble. “-I mean, Mr. Dionne agreed, and signed the quintuplets over. This is a win for us right?” 
The panic that started as butterflies in his stomach crawled up his throat, restricting his breathing. This just couldn’t be happening. He was so sure he had done everything correctly, and now, in a matter of minutes, his whole life was crumbling down. Just as the world around him was.
“To ensure the quintuplets would come to us, we needed TWO signatures. Let me ask you, Mr. Carlton…how many people does it take to create a baby?” Mr. Wilson was angry. Spit hit George in the face as Mr. Wilson yelled.  George kept silent, understanding a rhetorical question when he heard it.
“Do you understand how bad this is for us?” Another rhetorical question. “You were a lucky man to even be able to keep your job throughout this crisis the rest of us are dealing with. This should have been easy for you!” Mr. Wilson’s face was bright red by this point. “Nobody and I mean NOBODY, especially someone in Canada, in their right mind would keep five babies during this time considering no one can even afford food for themselves.” George had never felt so small in his entire life. “I told you, Mr. Carlton, I cannot keep funding these failed little adventures of yours. You. Are. Fired.” Mr. Wilson finished, breathing heavily.
George couldn’t believe it. This was it. All because of a stupid, dumb little mistake. Now he was officially in the same boat as the majority of the population. This was not the plan, if only he hadn’t gotten ahead of himself, he would’ve remembered he needed both signatures.
He walked out of that office a changed man. He no longer thought of himself as a successful businessman but now he saw himself as a failure.
The clouds, gray, threatened rain. The stickiness of moisture in the air made his suit stick to his body. The dirt in the air, as usual, caught in his lungs making him cough. He took in the sights, smells, sounds and realized for the first time ever, the world surrounding him exactly matched the storm that was brewing inside of him.