by Shawn Inmon
She folded the paper and walked to the closet. She retrieved her jacket and slipped the paper and her book into the pocket. She folded it over her arm and turned to the front door just as it opened, and James and Anne Weaver walked in. They seemed slightly surprised to see Veronica standing near the door, waiting for them.
Veronica smiled at them. “I saw you pull in, so I grabbed my coat.”
“Of course,” James replied. “So was Zack a little monster, like usual?”
If I ever come back to this moment again, I’ve got to go up and check on that little guy, so I can see for myself.
“Oh, James,” Anne said. She turned to glance at Veronica. “Don’t pay any attention to him. Zack is just spirited, that’s all.” Turning back to James, she said, “Will you pay Veronica and give her a ride home, while I go up and check on our sweet boy?”
“Yes, dear,” James said, completing a quick inspection of the house by glancing into the refrigerator. He came back into the living room reaching for his wallet.
“Twenty-five cents an hour, plus fifty cents after midnight, so it’ll be a $1.75.”
James looked at her with amusement in his eyes. “I like a girl that’s all business.” He opened his wallet, handed her two one dollar bills, and said, “Here’s two. Keep the change. Good babysitters are hard to find.”
I’ll put that quarter to good use, Mr. Weaver. This life, I’m all about the business, then the pleasure. If I foul it all up again, I guess I can always start over again, God forbid.
Ten minutes later, after making small talk with James Weaver on the car ride home, she stood once again on the sidewalk leading up to her house.
I saw this house a few hours ago, and it didn’t look all that different than it does right now, even though it’s twenty years earlier. But, it sure felt different without Mom and Dad in it.
Veronica hurried up the walk, opened the door and shut it with a little more force than was necessary. She wanted to make sure her mother heard her come in. She slipped her shoes off—don’t want to get off on the wrong foot this lifetime—and retrieved the paper she had written the stocks on from her jacket pocket.
She inhaled deeply, stood still and felt the sense of life that was back in the house. Her father and Barbara were asleep upstairs, her mother no doubt about to come down and check on her.
I’ll have things to set right. Make things good with Mom and Ruthie. I think I’m going to need to recruit Dad into my scheme too, if it’s going to work early. If not, I’ll have to let a little time pass.
She slipped into the kitchen, poured herself a half-glass of milk and drank it, then realized Doris hadn’t come down the stairs. A knot tied in her stomach. It’s not possible that because she died in my last life, that she’ll still be dead here in 1958 too, is it? Surely not. But why haven’t I seen her?
Veronica set the glass in the sink and hurried down the hall to the stairs. Just as she turned to run up them, she saw Doris coming down.
Oh, thank God.
Doris McAllister, dressed in her blue bathrobe over her nightclothes, her hair up in curlers, came silently to the bottom of the stairs. She looked Veronica up and down and fixed her with a stern look.
Veronica didn’t care how stern she looked. She’s alive.
Veronica threw her arms around Doris with enough force to make her take a half step back.
“Ronnie!” she said in a hoarse whisper. “Are you all right?”
I am now.
Veronica buried her head against Doris’s neck and nodded. “I’m fine, Mom. Just glad to see you.”
“First time for everything, I guess,” she said, but there was the hint of a smile on her lips. “Don’t forget—“
“I know, I’m scheduled at Artie’s tomorrow. I’ll be up and ready.” She squeezed Doris happily and ran lightly up the stairs. Inside her room, she sat on her bed and grabbed one of the notebooks from underneath her bedside table. She slipped the paper inside it, then replaced the notebook.
So many things to remember. So many things to do. I can’t wait to get started.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Veronica’s alarm went off at 8:00 a.m. and pulled her from the depths of the slumber she always fell into on her first night back in 1958. She got dressed in her Artie’s uniform and spent a little extra care in the bathroom. She fixed her hair and put on as much makeup as she knew Doris would let pass without an argument. She had only been thirty-eight the day before, but still, she could see the difference in her face.
Losing both parents in one day ages you. Plus, there is no substitute for being eighteen. Youth is wasted on the young, unless you’re living the same life over and over, then we learn to enjoy it.
She hurried down the stairs and found Wallace McAllister sitting in his easy chair, sipping a cup of coffee and reading the morning paper.
Oh, Daddy, it’s so good to see you alive. I won’t embarrass you by running over and jumping in your lap, but I’d sure like to. You’re such a good man.
“Morning, Daddy,” Veronica said, walking into the kitchen to make her breakfast.
Wallace made a show of looking at his watch, then looking at Veronica. “As I live and breathe, my little girl, up and chipper as can be this early on a Saturday morning. Are you feeling all right?”
Veronica stuck her tongue out at him, and settled on a bowl of Cheerios. Is this the same box of Cheerios I’ve already eaten at least twice before, maybe three times?
She took it to the kitchen table and sat down so she could still see into the family room. “Golfing today, Daddy?”
“Mmm-hmm,” Wallace said, without dropping his newspaper down.
Before she poured the milk on her cereal, she said, “Can I talk to you about something?”
These are not words that any father of a teenage girl typically wants to hear, so that caused him to put his paper down and say, “Of course, Ronnie. Come in here and sit down.”
This is my best shot. Mom’s not down yet. Dad’s always in a good mood in the morning.
“I know this is going to sound a little weird, but I’ve started to follow along with the stock market.”
“A little weird? Honey, if you had come in here and told me you want to fly jet planes, I wouldn’t be more surprised.”
Hey, women can fly jet planes too, you know. Now is not the time to argue that point, though.
“Well, we were studying it in class, and I started looking into it, and it’s pretty interesting. Do you own any stock, Daddy?”
“Well, I’m not sure I completely trust the stock market. It’s crashed before, you know, and it took a lot of people down with it.”
Right. It crashed less than thirty years ago. You would have been old enough to remember that, and you lived through the Depression that came after.
“I know it did. We studied that, too. Still, I’ve been following along with some of the stocks in your newspaper, and I’ve gotten pretty interested in it.”
“Well, there’s nothing wrong with being interested in things, but it doesn’t make much sense to think about it too much, does it?”
I know. To you, a career as a stock broker for your daughter is unimaginable.
“I’ve been doing some research, and I think there’s an opportunity in the market right now that everyone’s missing.”
“An opportunity in the—Veronica, what the heck has gotten into you?”
Too much. To him, yesterday, I was worrying about who was going to ask me to Prom. Now, I’m up early on a Saturday, babbling about the stock market. Time for Plan B.
“Nothing, Dad. I’m probably going overboard, like I usually do.”
Wallace narrowed his eyes at her. “Usually, when you go overboard, it’s because some cute boy looked at you in Geometry, not something that’s over my head, like this.”
“I’ll forget about it, but let’s play a game, shall we?”
“Sure,” Wallace said, laying the paper down and standing up with a slight grimace. “G
otta get loosened up for my golf game, but what do you want to play? I’m not good at charades.”
Veronica picked up the newspaper and leafed through it, looking for the financial section. “You go get ready for your golf game, and I’ll have something to show you before you leave.”
“Sure, kitten. I have to go upstairs, but I’ll be down in a minute.”
Veronica knew what it meant when her father had to go upstairs after drinking his morning coffee. You don’t actually buy coffee, Dad, you just rent it for a few minutes.
She sat down in the vacated easy chair and located the financial section of the paper. The headline on the front page read “Detroit unemployment reaches twenty percent in recession.” Guess we didn’t invent recessions. I always thought the economy was booming during this time. I guess Dad did a good job to keep us insulated from it all.
The last two pages had lists of stocks in agate type. Thank goodness for young eyes. She peered closely at the page until she found what she was looking for, then carried it over to her mother’s kitchen desk. She sat down, circled the stock price of Amalgamated Plastic. She reached in the center drawer and drew out a pair of scissors. She neatly cut out the section that showed the price, along with the date and the banner of The Oregonian.
She sat back at the kitchen table, poured the milk on her cereal and happily munched away.
Each life, this is the happiest time. Everything seems to dissolve into tears and unhappiness when I leave home. She thought back to a poster she had seen hanging in the hallway of Middle Falls City College when she had attended classes there in the seventies. It had shown a harbor, with a breakwater protecting all the ships anchored within it. The caption had read, “A ship in harbor is safe, but that’s not what ships are for.” And I guess that’s not what human lives are for either. We’re supposed to go out into the storm, but every time I do, I get sunk.
Wallace padded down the stairs, disappeared into the garage, and reappeared a moment later with his golf clubs over his shoulder, golf shoes in hand. He set the clubs and shoes next to the front door and walked back into the kitchen.
“I’ve got to leave in just a minute for my tee time, but what’s this game you want to play?”
“It’s simple, Dad. ”Veronica held up the newspaper clipping. “I just want to show this to you. Then, I’ll show it to you again at the end of the year. I’ve circled the stock I have a hunch about, and now I’m going to fold it and put it in an envelope. I want us to look at it around the end of the year. I think it’s going to really take off.”
Wallace smiled, and said, “I think we’ll both have forgotten about it by the end of the year, but sure, honey, we can do that. But now, I’m going to be late if I don’t get going.”
Okay. That’s all I can do for right now. No one’s going to take a barely-eighteen year old girl seriously about this. But when I show Dad what he missed out on, that will plant the seed with him, and he might listen to me next year. That means I’ve got to go to work, save up as much as I can, and talk Mom into giving me the rest of my savings account. No problem. In the meantime, I get to work at Artie’s, stay here with Mom, Dad, and Barb, and live my life. I’m ready.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
It had been twenty years since Veronica had been a high school student. This was her fourth time through the last two months of her senior year, though, so she was prepared. She had memorized her locker number and combination. She immediately went about rebuilding her bridges with Ruthie, and let go of her connection to the more popular girls she had been spending time with.
At work at Artie’s again, Veronica settled into her routine easily. She had missed Perry Zimmerman, DJ, and everyone she worked with. She had even missed the non-stop hit parade of Elvis Presley, The Fleetwoods, and Buddy Holly.
Her first shift back at Artie’s, Danny Coleman had pulled in with Lisa Berry in the passenger seat. He had come back again the following Tuesday. This time Veronica was prepared, so when she brought the food to Danny, she knew Christopher Belkins would be along shortly.
I’m oh-for-two on romance, so I’m taking this life off from it. I’ll bet I’m happier in the long run.
As she took the tray to Danny, the silvery-blue Thunderbird pulled in on the other side of him. She hooked the tray to Danny’s window, and said lightly, “No Lisa today?”
“Umm, no. Uhh ... We kind of broke up.”
“Well, those things happen. Gotta run, we’re getting busy.”
“Hey, Ronnie? Can you come back out in a few? There’s something I’d like to ask you.”
“Sure, as long as it’s not about Prom.”
“Oh, right. Wait. What?”
“I’ve decided I’m not going to go to Prom. I’ve got other things I’d rather do.”
Shock played in a wave across Danny’s face. The scion of local merchant royalty was not accustomed to being shot from the sky before fully engaging the enemy.
“Uh, okay. Yeah, then, never mind. I just remembered I’m supposed to be back at the store.” Turning red, he scooped his food off the tray. “You can go ahead and take the tray.”
“Sure, Danny. Maybe you should unbreak up with Lisa. She’s a sweet girl.”
Danny raised his hand in acknowledgement, backing out of the parking spot as fast as he could. When he did, Veronica saw Christopher sitting in his car, tapping his hand on the steering wheel. The sight of him did not arouse the strong feelings she’d had the last time she’d seen him. She found that she didn’t feel anything for him.
A few minutes later, when she took the tray out to him, she didn’t even bother to try and put the tray on the window. Instead, she pushed the tray against her hip and handed the food in the window. She said, “Forty cents, please.”
Christopher handed her a dollar, then said, “I’ll just take two quarters back, please.”
Veronica made the change and handed him his two quarters. When she did, Christopher did a double take and said, “Has anyone ever told you that you have the most amazing green eyes?”
She batted those amazing eyes at him and said. “Why, yes. Almost every day. Thanks for the tip.” She flipped the dime in the air, caught it neatly, and turned and walked back into Artie’s, whistling along with Eddie Cochran’s C’mon Everybody.
SITTING IN HISTORY class listening to Mr. Burns lecture about the fall of the Roman Empire, Veronica mulled over whether to go to college this life. I like going to school and learning new things, but all my money went to paying for school, and books. I wasn’t able to save anything. Plus, my grades are too mediocre when I start over each time, so I can’t get into a great school.
Veronica leaned back in her desk chair, twirling her hair around her finger. If Dad decides to help me with my investing next year, I’ll need money to put in to show I’m serious. Besides, I’ve already got my Associates in accounting, even if I can’t prove it to anyone in this life. Sit me down with a ledger and I can prove it, though. I think that’s it, then. Work hard at Artie’s, save my wages and tips as much as I can, and keep my head down. Maybe I can pick up a second job after school ends. I could help out with the books at Coleman’s. Danny will be gone to school, so that won’t get complicated. That won’t be so bad.
Chapter Forty
In the end, that’s exactly how it played out. Veronica worked as many shifts as Perry would give her. She applied for, and got, an entry-level job doing daily cash counts for Coleman’s Furniture. Mrs. Beeman, the head bookkeeper who Veronica had worked with for more than a decade in her previous life, trained her.
“You give me hope for the younger generation,” Mrs. Beeman said. “So many of the girls who come in here are flibbertigibbets who can’t do a lick of work. You catch on so fast, though.”
Veronica had smiled and nodded her thanks. Every generation thinks the one coming behind it is going to be the end of the world.
She felt guilty about living rent-free at home, so she started paying Wallace and Doris twenty-five dollars pe
r month, and pitching in on groceries. Even doing that, she was able to save almost two hundred dollars per month.
By December, between what she had saved and what was already in her savings account from before, she had slightly over one thousand dollars.
Veronica dipped into her savings to buy everyone something nice for Christmas. She bought Doris a bottle of Chanel #5, because she knew how she loved it, but would never buy it for herself. For Wallace, she sent away to New York for a tin of Erinmore Flake pipe tobacco she had heard him yearn for. Barbara was easy—an entire collection of hair clips, barrettes, and her first adult makeup.
She even bought gifts for Ruthie and her mom. It was the happiest Christmas she could remember, because she was content with where she was and what she was doing. She wasn’t waiting for anything to start her life.
A few days after Christmas, Doris was in the kitchen, getting a ham ready to go in the oven. Barbara was at a friend’s house, and Wallace was once again reading the newspaper in the den.
Veronica sat down in her mother’s chair, and said, “Daddy?”
“Mmm-hmm?”
Veronica waited patiently, silently. Eventually, Wallace remembered that she had spoken. He folded the paper up and laid it across his lap. “Do you need something?”
“Do you remember last spring, when I told you about that stock I was interested in? Amalgamated Plastic?”
Wallace tilted his head, searching his memory, then it snapped into place. “Oh, sure, honey. Why?”
“Have you looked it up lately?”
“No, I told you, I don’t trust the stock market. My father always gave me this advice—the quickest way to have a million dollars is to put two million into the stock market and wait.”
