CHAPTER 37

slice of honey roasted ham

I looked up at the condos. It hadn’t taken me long to get to West Fifty-Eighth Street, and I knew I was in the right place because of the long line of limos and town cars parked outside the entrance. The doormen (of which there were at least four for just the two front doors) were wearing fancy red uniforms that reminded me of the Ridgewood marching band.

I walked a few steps closer to the building and tried to nonchalantly peek inside the wide glass doors. The lobby was huge and covered in marble from floor to ceiling. Estelle would have loved it here.

I stood outside watching for a while. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, so I thought some people inside might have a clue as to what the note on my wrapper was all about. Even if they didn’t, they’d at least get a good laugh out of it.

As I approached the big glass doors, one of the doormen (who was about the size of a sumo wrestler) opened the door for me and gave me a friendly hello. I just kind of nodded and tried to act like I belonged there. Once inside, I went straight to the big desk across from the elevators, where another doorman was talking on the phone.

The guy hung up the phone and looked down at me like I was definitely lost. He leaned over the desk and said kindly, “How can I help you, young man?”

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