Mirror, The (14 page)

The lady took a moment to take a receipt that Paula handed her. When she finished tucking it in her checkbook and returning the checkbook to her purse, she glanced again at the girls.

"My name is Virginia Jorgenson, by the way."

"I'm Ginny Smith, and this is my sister Katie."

"It's a pleasure to meet you ladies," Virginia said.

When the woman extended a hand across the counter, the twins did the same. They smiled warmly and took turns greeting their not-so-dead great-grandmother.

"This is quite a coincidence," Virginia said. "I used to go by Ginny when I was your age. Is your christened name Ginny or Virginia."

"It's Virginia."

Virginia the Elder started to say something but stopped when the girl at her side tugged on her sleeve. She smiled at the teen and put an arm around her shoulder.

"How careless of me," Virginia said as she returned to the clerks. "This is my daughter Cindy."

Hi, Grandma.

Each of the twins gave the girl a small wave.

"Will you need any help taking your groceries to your car?" Paula asked.

"I'd love some assistance."

"Why don't you both help Mrs. Jorgenson?" Paula asked. "I'm ready to close up."

"OK," Ginny said.

Katie nodded.

The clerks followed the customers into a dark parking lot and loaded five bags of groceries into the back of a Ford Fairlane station wagon. Virginia held the door as the girls finished the job and then gave each a dollar – money that would have easily covered the cost of the buttermilk and the tomato paste.

"Thank you for the help," Virginia said.

"Thank you," the twins replied in near unison.

Virginia opened the driver's door, paused for a moment, and then turned to face the courtesy clerks. Cindy had already entered the vehicle.

"I know this is none of my business, but have you girls found acceptable housing in the area?" Virginia asked. "I understand it can be difficult to find during the school year."

"We're staying at the Coed Court, ma'am," Ginny said. "We're renting a room by the week."

Virginia tapped her chin with two fingers and looked at the twins more closely.

"The reason I ask is that my husband and I maintain a duplex near our home, just north of here, and need to fill a vacancy in one of the units. Would you be interested in finding something that's a little more permanent?"

The twins nodded.

"We would," Ginny said. "We definitely would."

"I thought so."

Virginia put a hand in her purse and moved it around like she was fishing for a lottery ticket. A few seconds later, she pulled out a small slip of paper and handed it to Ginny.

"This is my business card. I'm an editor at the
Seattle Sun
. If you're still interested in looking at the unit when you get up tomorrow, give me a call. I'll see if I can arrange a time to show it to you on Saturday."

"We'd like that," Ginny said.

"Have a nice evening, ladies."

Ginny subtly waved to Virginia Jorgenson as she got in her vehicle, started it, and pulled out of the nearly empty lot for points unknown. When the station wagon rounded a corner and vanished from sight, she took a moment to consider a most remarkable end to her day.

Ginny and her sister had not just made a new friend. They had met a woman their parents had known and befriended in
1941
, an icon of the extended Smith family who had been dead and buried, as they understood time, for twenty-five years.

The journey, she concluded, had taken an interesting turn.

CHAPTER 24: KATIE

Friday, May 15, 1964

Mike needed only twenty seconds to spoil the pleasant moment. Sitting across from Katie at a picnic table in the park next to Greer's Grocery, he reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a book of matches and a single cigarette. He put the cigarette in his mouth and lit a match.

"What are you doing?" Katie asked.

"I'm having a smoke," Mike said as he took his first puff.

Katie thought about the matter carefully before speaking. When she finally decided to proceed, she did so cautiously.

"When did you start smoking?"

"When I was fifteen, I think."

"Is that right?"

"I think so," Mike said.

"How come I couldn't tell the other day when I was kissing you?"

"That's because I wasn't smoking then. I just started up again on Tuesday."

"Why would you do that?"

Mike blew out a cloud of smoke, put the cigarette down, and tapped some ashes on the wet grass. He sighed and looked at Katie.

"I've been stressed lately."

"Are you upset over Monday night?"

Mike nodded.

"I thought we had a good thing going, but now I'm not so sure. It's like you put the brakes on us or something," he said. "It's been eating at me."

Katie understood his confusion and pessimism. She hadn't yet given him an answer about going out over the weekend or even going out again. She had wanted to take as much time as possible before jumping into a relationship she knew would have to end.

"I've been thinking a lot about it too," Katie said. "I do want to see you again, but I'm not sure I want to be more than friends."

"Why?"

"There are a lot of reasons, including a big one."

"What's that?" Mike asked.

"I'm not sure Ginny and I will be here past the summer."

"Is that so?"

Katie nodded.

"We've already discussed going back to California."

Katie made a mental note to add that whopper to her resume at the first opportunity. If there was one thing she disliked about living in the past, it was lying to people on a daily basis.

"I thought you came up here to get away from California."

"We did," Katie said.

"Then why would you go back?"

"We miss our family."

Katie congratulated herself for deftly handling a delicate matter. Then she berated herself for going too far. When she looked at Mike, she saw a crestfallen young man. Deciding to change course, she cocked her head, smiled sweetly, and looked at Mike until he finally met her gaze.

"Mike?"

"What?"

"That doesn't mean I want to stop seeing you," Katie said.

"Does it really matter?"

She put a hand on his.

"Of course it matters. Just because I might leave at the end of the summer doesn't mean we can't enjoy the next few months."

Mike stared at Katie for a moment as if trying to decide whether she was still worth it. When he was done, he smiled and shook his head.

"What the hell," he said. "Being friends with you still beats dating anyone else."

Katie tightened her hold on his free hand.

"There is one thing though."

"What's that?"

"If we spend more time together, I'm going to insist that you give up smoking."

"Why?" Mike asked.

"Because I'm allergic to the smoke. I also care about you and know that cigarettes are not good for you."

"Who told you that?"

Katie smiled. She was tempted to say the Surgeon General of the United States, who had concluded in a report just four months earlier that lung cancer and chronic bronchitis were causally related to cigarette smoking, but she knew that answer would fall on deaf ears.

"A little birdie told me the other day that it might be harmful to your social life," Katie said. She smiled, leaned across the table, and kissed him on the cheek. "If I were you, I wouldn't second-guess little birdies."

Mike chuckled. He looked at his cigarette, snuffed it out on the end of the table, and tossed it in a nearby garbage can.

"I guess I'm not as stressed as I thought."

"Thank you," Katie said.

She started to bring up the previously sore subject of the weekend but stopped when she saw Ginny approach with James. The two had each just finished a ten-to-four shift.

"I do hope we're not interrupting anything," Ginny said in a playful voice.

Katie smiled and stared hard at her sister.

"You never do," she said. "Take a seat."

Katie slid over to make room for Ginny and watched Mike do the same for James. When the late arrivals settled in, she glanced at James.

"You look tired."

"I am," James said. "The last hour was nuts."

"What do you mean?" Katie asked.

"I mean a hundred people came through the door. They all wanted the same things too: beer, pop, potato chips, and ice cream. We ran out of vanilla ice cream at three thirty. Who runs out of vanilla ice cream in May? This isn't the Fourth of July."

Katie laughed.

"It's the weekend," Mike said. "People are stocking up for the weekend."

"Well, next time they should stock up on toilet paper. We've got plenty of that," James said.

Ginny smiled at James.

"Why don't you tell them what really made your day?" Ginny asked.

James shook his head.

"No. It's too close to dinnertime."

"OK. Now you have my attention," Mike said.

"Oh, jeez, now look what you started, Ginny."

"Did you have to clean up a spill," Katie said.

James sighed.

"You might say that."

"A kid blew chunks in Aisle 5," Ginny said.

"No. That's not right," James said. "He blew chunks
on
Aisle 5. He barfed on all the cans of cream of chicken soup. How sick is that? I had to take all the cans outside and wash them off."

Mike put a hand on James' shoulder.

"You call me the next time that happens, buddy. I'll be sure to bring a camera."

"If that happens again, I'm going to bring
you
a mop," James said.

"It must have been awful," Katie said.

"The customers thought so," James said. "They scattered like rats. None of them came back either. Can't say I blame them. I wouldn't eat cream of anything after that."

Mike and Ginny laughed.

Katie laughed too. She liked James' sense of humor and easy manner. She also liked how he interacted with her sister and how she interacted with him. She couldn't remember the last boy
friend
Ginny had had. Each new guy in her life had been a conquest in waiting.

When James was done detailing the horrors of his last hour, Katie decided to seize on the good vibes around the table. The four friends had not yet done anything as a group. Maybe it was time for that to change.

"Are we done talking about projectile vomit and cream of chicken soup?" Katie asked.

"I think so," James said.

"I don't know about you two, but I'd like to hear more," Ginny said. "I only heard the kid barf. I didn't actually see the flying chunks. Did they scatter or splatter, James?"

"Ginny!" Katie said.

"OK. OK."

Ginny folded her arms and stared at Katie as if she had just undercut a glorious opportunity to impress an audience of men. Ginny was the one who did the interrupting in the family.

"I suppose you have something important to say."

"I do," Katie said. "I'd like to know what each of you thinks about going to a movie tonight.
Dr. Strangelove
is playing at the Phoenician."

Katie laughed to herself as Mike sat up straight. She had
his
attention anyway.

"Are you suggesting a date, Miss Smith?" Mike asked.

"I'm suggesting a date," Katie said as she smiled sweetly.

"Do I have to behave myself?"

"You do."

Mike rubbed his chin.

"Do I have to pay for my date?"

"You do!"

Katie gazed at Mike and brightened when she saw the sparkle return to his eyes. She'd had him at "date." Boys were so easy.

"OK," Mike said. "I can do that."

Katie laughed.

"I knew you could," Katie said. She shifted her attention. "What about you, James?"

"I'd love to see a movie," he said. "It's been months."

Katie nodded and turned to Ginny. She expected another affirmative answer but knew she wouldn't get one the second she saw a hot glare.

"Gin?"

"You know I can't, Katie. I told you this morning I had plans."

Katie's heart sank as a tidbit she'd forgotten came rushing back.

Ginny looked at James with apologetic eyes.

"I'm going out with Steve," she said.

"So we'll go tomorrow night instead," Katie said, jumping back in.

"I can't do that either," Ginny said.

"Why not?" Katie asked.

"I'm going out with Steve."

CHAPTER 25: GINNY

Bellevue, Washington

When Ginny entered the expansive eastside residence, she thought not of Richard and Joyce Carrington, who owned the place, but rather of Frank Lloyd Wright, who almost certainly inspired it. Built over a small creek that flowed into Lake Washington, it was a reasonable facsimile of Fallingwater, the Pennsylvania home that made the architect a household name.

Nearly everything about the house stood out, from its clean lines to its cantilevered floors to its heavy use of river rock. The words "class" and "style" came quickly to mind. So did "money."

"This is an impressive home, Mr. Carrington," Ginny said as she looked across a candlelit table. "I don't think I've ever seen anything like it."

"Thank you, Ginny. I kind of like it myself. I spared no expense in building it ten years ago. I wanted my children, and someday their children, to have a place they could always call home – a place that would stir the imagination and perhaps cater to a few games of hide-and-go-seek."

Steve and Joyce laughed.

Ginny smiled when she heard Richard's reference to "children." The Carrington kids were long past the hide-and-go-seek stage, particularly Steve. Though some might consider him a boy in a college or fraternity setting, he was a man to her. Steve Carrington already had the stature, maturity, and presence of men twice his age.

That was more than Ginny could say for his sister, whom she had met in passing. Connie Carrington had all the appeal of Veruca Salt. She had found it more than amusing that her law-school-bound brother was dating a recent high-school graduate he'd met in the sticks. She had encouraged Ginny to "enjoy the ride" as she left the house for her own big evening.