On this Friday, all their fears focused, for the German army attacked Poland.
Cora crouched over a bowl peeling potatoes. Celeste and Ramelle ought to be back in half an hour. They were out riding. Celeste was breaking in a beautiful spirited gray mare, since her old bay had been put out to pasture. Louise burst through the door. She'd just gotten off work.
"Mother, Germany invaded Poland."
"Shut the screen door, honey, you'll let the flies in."
"Aren't you upset?"
"Yes—but it doesn't matter if the rock hits the jug or the jug hits the rock: the jug still gets it."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Means Germany lost the last war and Germany will lose this war. God help all the innocents that are bound to die."
"We could be some of them. They got airplanes, you know. It isn't like the last war."
"Louise, don't worry about it right this minute. The Atlantic Ocean is wide."
Julia yelled before she opened the door, "Mom, war. Gonna be another war." She slammed the door behind her. "Hi, Louise."
"Louise told me."
"You think we can stay out of it?" Julia asked her sister.
"I don't know. Not for long."
"I hope Chessy doesn't get called up."
"He's too old," Louise comforted her.
"He's thirty-four." Juts' brow furrowed.
"They only take them that old if we're really in dutch," Louise said.
"I hope so, Momma, what do you think?" Julia absent-mindedly picked up a potato and started peeling it.
"I don't know what to think. I don't understand why people can't leave one another alone and live in peace."
"Me, too." Julia peeled a bit more vigorously.
"Me, too." Louise sat down. "Did you see Spotty on the cover of Screen Gems magazine?"
"I can hear Celeste now." Cora laughed. "She'll say there's nothing more vulgar than publicity."
"Nothing like starting at the top. Spotty's got everything: beauty, money, movies."
Cora sighed. "Louise, don't count any woman lucky until her life is lived."
"Are you sure Chessy's too old?" Julia tapped Louise's forearm.
"Yes. The problem is not him getting called up but him enlisting."
"What!" Julia went white.
"If he goes down to enlist, the army might take him. He's big and strong. Anyway, if it's Ted Baeckle doing the signing up, he'll take Chessy."
"No." Julia bit her lip.
"Honey, don't get riled up. The U.S. ain't in this shooting match yet." Cora's voice was soft.
"Mother, Chessy will go down and sign up. You know how men are."
"I think Pearlie will pass. He's forty and the last war cured him of curiosity." Louise spoke with halfhearted conviction.
"Who knows? Once one man signs up they all do. Then we never see them again." Julia cut into the potato.
"Will you two stop." Cora reprimanded them.
"Would you go if women could fight?" Julia leaned over and peered into Louise's light-gray eyes.
"No. Men make the wars, let men fight them."
"I never thought of that." Julia flopped back.
"If you want to kill people, go to Chicago," Cora wryly noted.
"It's not the same." Louise decided to pitch in on the potato peeling, too.
"Oh, no?" Cora's voice rose upward.
"I'd go," Julia announced. "If America's in danger I'll fight. If they come here I'll really fight."
"Of course, if they come here everyone will fight," Louise affirmed.
Cora filled a large pot with water and threw the potatoes in it.
"Mother, when I came by from work the town was so quiet you could hear a pin drop," Julia informed her.
"Everyone's worried. I never saw it like this," Louise added.
"You all don't remember, but when Wilson declared war last time it was testy."
"I remember running through Celeste's front door. I thought that was exciting." Juts rested her chin in her hand.
"Well, us old fogies didn't think it was so exciting."
"Mom, aren't we about the age you were then?" Louise asked.
"Yes."
"History repeats itself," Julia brooded.
"I've got an idea." Louise brightened.
"You gonna call Hitler?" Julia played with the edge of the table.
"Listen. Let's you and me go down to Ted Baeckle and tell him to ignore Chessy if he comes in. I mean, if we get into this war. Let's do it now, then you won't worry."
"Louise, I can't talk to him. I'll die of embarrassment. And if Chessy found out there'd be hell to pay."
"What have we got to lose?"
"Face." Julia shifted in her chair.
"If face is all you're worried about, go," Cora urged her. "Ted Baeckle's got a closed mouth."
"Come on, Juts. You'll feel the better for it"
"You'll really do it?"
"Yes," Louise answered.
True to her word, Louise spoke to Ted. She didn't plead or bargain or harangue. She said that Chessy, should we go to war, would probably try to enlist. Would Ted please pass on him as long as other men filled the ranks? If our country was invaded or if a manpower shortage should hit, then he could take Chessy. Sitting amid the army recruitment posters, already outdated, Baeckle was a kindly fellow. Given Chesses age and the fact that he was married, he didn't anticipate trouble. If the U.S. ran up against it, well, that was another matter. He bade the women good evening and told them not to worry.
"Thanks, Louise. You're a pal." Julia impulsively kissed her sister as they walked back to Celeste's.
"Sure." Louise inhaled deeply. "You know, I make two trips a year to New York. Gives me a lot to think about."
"Yeah." Julia didn't get the connection.
"I come back knowing I'm not as perfect as I'd like to be. I spend so much time worrying about little things. Every now and then I see that and I . . ." Her voice faded. Either she had lost her train of thought or she couldn't bring herself to say it.
"Half the time I can't see the nose on my face." Julia, puzzled, sought to ease the strain on Louise.
"Julia, I don't show it, but I do love you," Louise blurted out.
"I love you, too." Juts put her arm around Louise's waist and continued walking.
May 23, 1980
The lavender afterglow of sunset shimmered on the horizon. Juts, in high spirits, rolled a joint. She wanted to smoke it before sitting out on the front porch, as she did every evening in good weather. Front porches vibrated with gossip and Julia didn't want to miss a flung. Nickel leaned against the screen door, laughing as her mother licked the paper.
"What are you laughing at?"
"You."
"What's so funny about me?" Juts lit up and took a grateful drag.
"You're the most alive person I know."
"If I wasn't the flies would be here." Her wrinkles folded in deep laugh lines around her eyes.
"Don't you know that people are supposed to get conservative and unadventuresome when they get older?" Nickel tormented her.
"You're most conservative after a full meal. Here, want a puff?"
"No, thanks."
"What's wrong with you? You don't drink, smoke or smoke-smoke. Come on, girl, climb down off Mount Rushmore and have a little toke."
To please her animated mother, Nickel inhaled.
"There, now you're a little more human." Julia reached for the weed.
"Since when does humanness connect to vice?"
"Vice? I knew you shoulda never gone to college. This is relaxation, accent on the lax." Julia was in an extraordinarily good mood. "You don't relax near enough, you hear me? I swear, girl, you pushed in your cradle. Come on, life's short."
"Sex is my only vice and I don't have much time for that. I'm bisexual in name only. I'm too busy to practice what I preach," Nickel mused.
Julia's ears perked up on the word "sex." "You can tell your old mother all about it
."
"What's to tell?"
"Who, what, when, where and how. Ain't that the newspaper way?"
"Why, Mother, I thought you didn't care for this tacky stuff." Nickel enjoyed teasing her.
"I didn't. Not until that orange juice lady went berserk. I figured anything that's got that many people screaming and hollering about it must be good." Julia held a mouthful of smoke after that.
"Just be glad America won the Revolutionary War."
"What's that got to do with it?"
"If we lost, Anita'd be singing 'God Save the Queen.'" Nickel took the marijuana out of her mother's hand and breathed in another load of cheer.
"Ha! I love it! Hell, what's wrong with people? You live your life and I live mine. If everybody felt that way, there'd be no more wars."
"Inclined to agree." Nickel let smoke out. She wasn't as practiced at this as her mother.
"I'm still your mother and I'm still right." Juts slapped her thigh.
"You're right that I need to relax more."
"Sometimes you remind me of Celeste Chalfonte with an engine on your back."
"Huh?"
"You don't show emotion, like her. You're smart, I gotta give you that, kid. You're smart. Celeste, oh, my, she was witty. Once you rest you're pretty sharp yourself. Wish you coulda met her."
"Fanny Jump Creighton told me that once, that I reminded her a bit of Celeste. Funny. I figured I was like you and Dad."
"You get your brains from me." Julia patted herself on the back and both women burst out laughing.
Nickel looked out the screen door. "Mother, there's a large, colorful object approaching."
Julia craned her neck. "Christ, it's Orrie. I'll never get rid of the smell before she gets here."
Turning up the sidewalk to the old house, Orrie was a kaleidoscope. She wore a kelly-green polyester pantsuit. Her fingernails were painted mocha frost. A breath away from eighty years old, she piled her scarlet hair on top of her head like lasagna. Around this brilliant mop she tied a sheer yellow scarf. Large dangling earrings threatened to pull off her lobes and an enormous necklace hung around her neck. It was made from fried marbles. No doubt a gift from Louise back in the 1950s, when the marble craze hit her. She sang "You Must Have Been a Beautiful Baby" to herself. Her kelly-green espadrilles climbed the front porch steps. Rather than knock on the door she let out a "Yoo-hoo."
Julia sprang to the front door. "Why, Orrie Tadia Mojo, what a pleasant surprise. Let's just sit out on the front porch, as there's a foul odor in the living room."
"A foul odor?" Orrie wrinkled her nose.
"Yes. Half the people wouldn't have indigestion if they wouldn't be ashamed to fart." Juts steered her out on the porch, secure in the knowledge that such an explanation would both offend and satisfy Orrie.
Nickel put her hand over her mouth and coughed.
"Miss Orrie, can I interest you in something to eat or drink?" Nickel politely asked her.
"Why, thank you, no."
"Mother, how about you?"
"I'll pass. You come on out here and sit with us."
Orrie settled herself in the white wicker rocker while Juts and Nickel plopped on the big porch swing.
"Orrie, you're dressed up fit to kill."
"Thank you, Julia. It's all the latest thing. I wash it and hang it up and it's ready to put right back on."
"They must have killed six Du Ponts to make that suit," Nickel admired.
"Have you done any redecorating now that you have Nickel here to help you?" Orrie was fishing to get in the house.
"Hell, no."
"Mom figures the 1940s will come back in style, so she's leaving everything as it is," Nickel explained.
"If it don't come back in style, then I can charge admission as a museum," Juts cracked.
"Julia, you're a card." Orrie genuinely liked Julia. However, she was Louise's bosom buddy and had to walk the line. Louise was always jealous of Julia.
"Nickel's planning to move back here. Did you know that, Orrie?" Julia asked slyly.
"I heard something to that effect. Be good to have you back, Nickel."
"Thank you."
Orrie paused, not knowing how to bring up the subject, so she stalled a bit. "You planning on opening up a business?"
"I'd like to reconstruct a lot of old homes around here and then sell them or fix them up for the owners. There are great buildings in this area. If people don't have money, maybe we could barter, you know?" Nickel was enthusiastic. Having made up her mind to return to her roots, she couldn't wait to do it.
Orrie's eyes opened underneath all the eye shadow. "I think that's wonderful. I wish Noe were here. He'd help. Noe loved this early-American architecture."
"He was a good guy." Julia pushed the swing with her bare foot.
"Yes. They don't make men like that anymore." Orrie sighed.
"How's that?" Juts knew Orrie had come with the searching eye, but she'd dangle her as long as she could.
"Gentle men." Orrie loved talking about large categories. "You look on TV today. It's all pop, snap, crunch. Men wear three-piece suits and carry guns. Or they wear T-shirts and carry guns. Violence. Being a man means assuming responsibility. I think men today don't know that." Her ample bosom heaved.
"Don't you think being a woman means assuming responsibility?" Nickel asked her.
"Yes, of course." Orrie paused, then spoke again, like a motor ready to roar. "What I mean is, when I was young people knew one another. Understand? If a fella tried to act like King Kong, everybody laughed. You were supposed to be part of the group. You took care of your own." Orrie's thoughts were garbled but her message was clear.
"Now people don't even know who their own is and if they do know they don't care," Julia said in agreement.
"Just writing my whole generation off, are you?" Nickel's black eyes danced.
"I didn't say that. I said I'm sick of men acting like boys. A real man is quiet, responsible and gentle." Orrie spoke this with great conviction.
"You're right, Orrie. My Chessy, God rest his soul, was a gentle man. I could have done without him dying in 1968."
"No wonder you bounce around, Nickel. If I was a young girl I wouldn't look at these flaming assholes." Orrie had put her foot in her mouth.
Nickel knew her well enough not to be offended. She also knew that the older you get, the less you expect to be understood. "Now, Orrie, I don't think all men in their thirties are such duds. I know some pretty decent guys."
"Seeing is believing." Orrie folded her hands.
"Guess I'll have to import some men so you two don't keep on assailing my generation," Nickel kidded them.
"You know any Japanese men?" Orrie's face brightened.
"I know a few fellows from New York City. I know a lot of Chinese people from San Francisco. Remember when I went out there on that job?" Nickel turned to her mother.
"I love Japanese men. You bring me one." Orrie giggled.
"Isn't the sky beautiful?" Julia pointed to the deepening purple in the west.
"Say, did you talk to Louise today?" Orrie asked.
"Not so far. I was out most of today." Julia rocked some more. It was difficult to contain her urge to jump up and down.
"Louise thinks someone broke into her house." Orrie's eyebrows, thin painted lines, knitted together.
"You don't say." Julia could have shown a little more concern.
"Did they take anything?" Nickel, who knew nothing, was worried.
"Not that I know of." Orrie hedged. She knew something was missing, but Louise certainly didn't spill the beans to Orrie. That would be like putting an ad in the Runnymede Trumpet.
"Makes no sense that someone would break in and not steal anything." Julia played Sherlock Holmes. "She's got some nice pieces of jewelry, my sister does."
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