"Will you 'sing their praises' too?"
Katie shook her head.
"No. I have to be honest. But I promise not to break the toaster."
Virginia laughed.
"You girls are quite the comics. I like that," she said. "I have a dear friend in Portland – named Katie, coincidentally – who has the same sense of humor."
Ginny glanced at Katie and saw her cheeks turn red. She had no doubt the hue of her face was turning the same color. Ginny wondered at what point she and Katie would have to offer their wrists and surrender to the time-travel cops.
"In any case, I think we have the basis for an agreement," Virginia said. "I realize that you just started at the store and probably haven't received your first paychecks, so I'll give you until June 15 to pay for the balance of May and all of June. You can move in any time you'd like. Does that sound fair?"
"That sounds very fair," Ginny said.
"I think so too," Katie agreed.
Virginia smiled.
"I thought it would. There is one more thing."
"What's that?" Ginny asked.
"I want you to know that you can come over to the house at any time if you need something fixed – or even if you just have a problem. I typically don't extend that invitation to tenants, but I feel comfortable making an exception here. I know what it's like to leave home at your age and come to the big city. It can be exciting, yes, but it can also be scary, lonely, and frustrating. Please know that you can count on Joe and me to help you out if you get in a pinch."
"I appreciate that," Ginny said.
"I do too," Katie added. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," Virginia said. "I'll let you ladies look the place over while I get the rental agreement. Is there anything else I can do for you now?"
"No. I think that will do it," Ginny said.
She smiled.
Thanks, Granny.
CHAPTER 27: GINNY
Sunday, May 17, 1964
Ginny noticed many things as she stood near the end of the impossibly long line, which started in front of the Phoenician Theater on the Ave and stretched around the corner at Forty-Seventh Street.
She noticed the people, of course, and the clothes they wore. Though she finally got a glimpse of the denim that was so common in 2020, she got more than a glimpse of sweaters, slacks, jumpers, felt hats, and dresses that seemed torn from the pages of a J.C. Penney catalog. She wasn't sure she'd ever get used to seeing so many retro dresses, even though six now hung in the closet of her bedroom in the duplex.
Ginny also saw signs of the times, including a drugstore poster touting Green Stamps, vehicles sporting chrome and fins, billboards advertising cigarettes, and an unoccupied bench she had never seen but had heard about on many occasions. For at least two members of the Smith family, the bench was an unforgettable icon and the sidewalk around it sacred ground.
When she advanced far enough in the line to gain an unobstructed view of the street corner, Ginny tapped Katie on the shoulder and pointed to the bench. She smiled when her twin acknowledged the site's significance with a nod and a smile of her own.
According to Joel and Grace, the bench was where the family story had started. It was where Joel Smith, homeless time traveler from the year 2000, had stopped to rest his tired bones on the evening of June 2, 1941, and had a brief encounter with a young woman returning from a night out on the town with her sorority sisters.
The scraggly stranger and the smartly dressed woman, a beautiful coed named Grace Vandenberg, had done little more than acknowledge each other with weary smiles and nonverbal gestures. She had offered a gentle wave before crossing the street. He had touched the brim of a cowboy hat he had picked up in Montana.
The gestures, however, had planted a seed that germinated two weeks later when Joel and Grace were introduced at a graduation party. They went on to date, fall in love, and make plans for the future before Joel followed his conscience back to 2000. Even after their reunion weeks later, however, Joel had not forgotten the place where he and Grace had met. When he had proposed marriage in August 2000, he had done so on a bended knee as she sat on the bench.
To most of the two hundred or so people in line, the bench represented nothing more than a place to sit. To Ginny Smith and her time-traveling sister, it was a sweet reminder of a simpler time and proof that even utilitarian objects could have profound sentimental value.
Ginny thought about her parents and the family she desperately missed as she and the others moved forward in the line, passed the bench, and continued down the Ave. Five minutes later she heard a friend speak up for the first time during the slow procession to the box office.
"Thanks for coming, Ginny," James Green said. "I'm sure you had better things to do today than hang around me."
Ginny glanced at James and looked for a facial expression that might give added meaning to his statement. She didn't find it. If James was disappointed that she had put a guy she liked before her friends – and even her sister – on Friday and Saturday, he didn't show it. He seemed genuinely pleased to be standing at her side as they waited in line with Katie and Mike to see a matinee showing of Dr. Strangelove.
"You're wrong, James. I didn't have better things to do. I didn't have better things to do last night. I could have given Steve a rain check. I should thank all of you for putting this off until today – especially you, Mike."
"What do you mean?"
"What I mean, Michael, is that I know you wanted to date my sister on Friday, and because of me you had to wait until today. That must have been torture."
Mike blushed as James and Katie laughed.
"You don't mince words, do you?" Mike asked.
"No," Ginny said.
This time all three laughed.
Ginny warmed at the sight of the laughter. She knew now why she should have given up one of her dates with Steve. Katie, James, and Mike made her smile. She was far more comfortable in their presence than in the company of Steve's family or his fraternity brothers, whom she had endured for three hours Saturday night. Though she savored every minute she spent with her new boyfriend, she loathed sharing him with others.
She looked at Mike to see if he was ready for another dig when she saw something that wiped the smile from her face. Two mean-looking men in their early twenties jaywalked across the Ave and headed for a gap in the line in front of the courtesy clerks. Dressed in blue jeans and work shirts, the men filled the gap without as much as a word to the people behind them.
"Hey! You can't do that," Katie said. "You have to go to the back of the line."
The larger and uglier of the men turned to face the defiant little blonde. He looked at her contemptuously.
"Who says?"
"I say," Mike said as he got in his face.
"I say too," James said.
Ugly laughed but didn't respond right away. He instead closely examined the group he had irritated and inconvenienced until he found a new way to cause trouble.
"Well, what do you know? It looks like we have ourselves a mismatched set. I'm not sure I approve of this, Bill. Do you approve?"
The other man, grinning, shook his head.
"I didn't think so," Ugly said. "I may have to ponder this a minute."
Mike spoke up.
"Why don't you ponder shutting your mouth?"
Ugly sneered.
"Why don't you step back before you get hurt?"
Katie grabbed Mike's arm as he leaned forward.
"He's not worth it, Mike. Just let them stay there," she said.
"You ought to listen to your lady there, friend. She seems to have a lot more sense than you do. Wouldn't you agree, Bill?"
Bill nodded and laughed. Then he stared at Ginny in a way that made her nervous.
Ginny hated bullies. She'd hated them her whole life. She despised boys who extorted lunch money and girls who slandered their peers with vicious gossip. She knew these two needed to be put down like rabid dogs, but she also agreed
with Katie. Making a stand over cutting in line was not worth ruining an afternoon. These bullies, unfortunately, had no intention of letting up.
"You know, the more I think about it, the more I think you ladies can do better," Ugly said. "Why don't you girls come with us? Bill and I will show you a good time. You won't have to put up with all these stares either."
"Don't say another word," Mike said.
Ginny quickly scanned the faces of the others in the line. She hoped to find at least some support but didn't find any. Most of the other moviegoers in the immediate vicinity glared not at the punks who had cut in line but at the young black male who'd had the audacity to escort a young white female to a public event.
Ugly laughed at Mike but otherwise ignored him. He instead stepped toward James. He had the swagger of someone who outweighed each of his adversaries by at least fifteen pounds.
"What do you say, bud? Do you think I could show your girlfriend a good time? I think I could. I think I could show her a real good time."
Ginny braced herself for the inevitable, but the inevitable didn't come. James didn't throw a punch. He didn't get in the bully's face. He instead glared at Ugly, stepped between the thug and the girlfriend who was not his girlfriend, and held his ground.
Mike showed less restraint. He grabbed the antagonist from behind, turned him around, and threw him against the side of the building. When Ugly pushed back, Mike punched him in the stomach and threw him against the bricks again. By the time Ugly was able to stand up and come after Mike once more, a policeman pushed through the front of the line and intervened.
"That's enough," the cop said. "Break it up now."
Mike let go of Ugly and took a step back.
"What's going on here?" the policeman asked.
"These two cut in line," Ginny said pointing to Ugly and Bill. "They cut in front of us and then started a fight."
"Is that true?" the officer asked Katie.
She nodded.
The cop turned to face two elderly couples standing in line behind the Greer's group.
"Did you see what happened?"
The couples gave James and Ginny disapproving glances and then returned their attention to the officer. One of the women appeared ready to say something but didn't. She instead looked at the cop and shook her head. The other seniors looked away.
Ginny glared at the couples and then returned to the policeman. She began to speak again but stopped when a man several places back hailed the officer and stepped forward. No more than thirty, he was dressed in a three-piece suit he had probably worn to church.
"The girl's right," he said. "Those two cut in line and picked a fight."
"Who are you?" the officer said.
"My name is George Winslow. I've been standing behind these folks for quite some time. They were minding their own business when those men cut in line. I saw it plain as day."
"Is that right?" the cop asked Ugly.
Ugly didn't answer.
"All right," the policeman said. "That's enough for me."
He turned to face the ruffians.
"You two go to the back of the line now. If I have to do this again, I'll haul you in. Do I make myself clear?"
Ugly and Bill nodded at the cop and then took their leave. They glared at Mike and James as they walked back to the intersection, rounded the corner, and exited the scene. The cop followed them as far as the bench and then crossed the Ave to presumably take care of other business.
"Thank you," Ginny said to the Good Samaritan.
"Don't mention it," George Winslow said. "Those guys had it coming."
The man tipped his hat and walked back in line about fifteen feet to a nicely dressed woman who appeared visibly relieved that her husband or boyfriend had not become physically involved in the dispute. He grabbed her hand and blended into the line.
"Are you all right, Mike?" Ginny asked.
"I'm fine. I really wanted to throw another punch, but I guess it's a good thing I didn't."
Ginny nodded in agreement. She watched as Mike straightened his shirt, sighed, and threw an arm around Katie's shoulders. He appeared no worse for wear.
Though Katie was undoubtedly shaken by the experience, she didn't say a word. She instead let her actions do the talking. She gave Mike an approving glance, extended her arm around his back, and burrowed into his side.
Ginny then turned to her left and looked for James. She found him standing on the curb a few feet away. He appeared lost in thought as he stared across the street.
"Are you OK?" she asked.
"I'm all right."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure."
"Thanks for standing up to them," Ginny said. "That was brave of you."
James turned to face Ginny. He wore the expression of a defeated man.
"Yeah," he said. "I was real brave."
Ginny grabbed his hand.
"Don't let those jerks get to you. Don't let anyone get to you."
Ginny glared at the moviegoers who had remained silent.
"You should all be ashamed of yourselves," she shouted.
Several in line greeted her admonition with laughter or condescending stares.
Ginny tightened her hold on James' hand and waited for him to meet her gaze.
"We came here to see a movie, James, and I intend to see that movie. I want you to escort me proudly into the theater."
James smiled sadly.
"OK."
"Say it louder."
"OK!"
Ginny smiled and kissed him on the cheek.
"That's better," she said. "That's much better."
CHAPTER 28: VIRGINIA
Wednesday, May 20, 1964
Virginia Jorgenson, features editor of the Seattle Sun, stared at the manuscript on her dining table as she started her fourth cigarette and third cup of coffee. She didn't care much for the new reporter's flowery prose, but she admitted that he knew his stuff. She tried to remember the last time she had enjoyed reading an article on the dangers of dancing the Twist.
The editor began to circle a typo on the second page when she heard a knock on the door. She sighed. Even with Joe at his shop and the kids in school, she couldn't seem to find an uninterrupted moment to herself. As she got up from the table and walked through the house to the front door, she braced herself for a close encounter with a cosmetics peddler.
When Virginia opened the door, though, she found not a salesman or even a neighbor in need of a cup of sugar but rather two young women standing on her doorstep. Each wore a pastel dress and a matching sweater. Both carried purses. One held a toaster in her hands.
"Hello, ladies. What a surprise," Virginia said. "What can I do for you?"
Ginny Smith, appliance holder, spoke first.
"We're sorry to bother you, Mrs. Jorgenson, but we felt – I felt – that you should know about an accident this morning."
"Oh? What kind of accident?"
"It's the toaster, ma'am. Katie broke it. She broke her promise."
Katie reacted predictably. She glared at her blunt sister, who seemed to revel in the moment, and then smiled sheepishly at the toaster's owner.
"I didn't mean to," Katie said.
"She didn't either," Ginny said matter-of-factly. "I was there when it happened. She slipped on a wet spot on the floor and accidentally spilled some milk in the toaster when it was toasting. When it started to smoke and sizzle, I pulled the plug. I'm not sure it can be saved, but I thought you should at least know about it."
Virginia did her best to contain a laugh. These two could interrupt her work any day. They were as adorable as kittens on Christmas morning.
"Please come in. We can talk about it inside."
Virginia led the girls down a short hallway and through the living room to the kitchen. When they reached the adjacent dining area, a bright room with yellow walls, she took the toaster from Ginny, placed it on top of the table, and pulled out two sturdy chairs.
"Take a sea
t and make yourselves comfortable," Virginia said. "Can I get either of you something to drink? I just made a pot of coffee."
"Coffee would be nice," Ginny said.
"I'm fine, thank you," Katie said.
Virginia smiled as the girls took their places at the table and put their purses on the floor. It was clear that Katie did not want to impose any more on her landlord. She was clearly suffering from toaster remorse.
The landlord walked to a percolator near the sink, poured a cup of coffee, and returned to the table. She placed the cup in front of Ginny just as she sneezed.
"Bless you," Virginia said. "Do you have seasonal allergies?"
"No," Ginny replied. "I have smoke allergies. They bother me all year long."
"Achoo!"
"Oh, my. You too?"
Katie nodded.
"Well, let me fix that," Virginia said.
She snuffed out the cigarette in the ashtray and walked a few feet to a bay window that offered an unobstructed view of a large backyard. When she lifted the sash on each side, clean air came rushing in.
"Is that better?" Virginia asked.
"It's much better. Thank you," Ginny said.
Virginia returned to the table. She sat in her chair, folded her hands, and studied each of her guests, who sat together at the opposite end of the rectangular table. Both wore nervous smiles.
"So let's talk about the toaster," Virginia said. "You say it smoked and sizzled?"
Ginny nodded.
"It popped, too, but only for a few seconds."
"That sounds serious. I'm thankful it didn't do more, like cause a fire."
"We are too," Ginny said.
Virginia glanced at the silent twin.
"Do you have anything to say?"
Katie blushed.
"I'm sorry for killing your toaster, Mrs. Jorgenson. I'll happily pay for a new one."
Virginia bit her lip. Her morning kept getting better.
"I don't think that will be necessary, Katie. These things happen," she said. "We may even be able to save it. My husband is a licensed electrician and an all-purpose handyman. If anyone can fix a damaged toaster, he can."
Virginia sipped her coffee.
The Mirror (Northwest Passage Book 5) Page 13
