I could feel myself blinking, wondering if the woman had made a fundamental mistake. “I was told Tannie went to the fireworks with her dad.”
“Oh, she did, but we ran into them at the park, and Tannie’s father asked Mother if we could keep her overnight. He said he had something to take care of and wasn’t sure what time he’d be back.”
“Did he say where he was going?”
“If he did, it didn’t register with me. He might have told Mother, but she’s long dead. Why not ask Tannie? She might know.”
“I’ll do that, thanks. I truly appreciate your help.”
“You’re entirely welcome.”
27
Liza
Saturday, July 4, 1953
Liza Mellincamp often thought about her fourteenth birthday, which fell on July 3, 1953, the day before Violet Sullivan left Serena Station. Years later, she found it hard to believe so much changed in that forty-eight-hour period. She’d spent the morning of her birthday cleaning her room. Violet was taking her out for lunch, and Liza wanted to be ready in plenty of time. She had never eaten in a real restaurant and she could hardly contain herself. She and her mother had once shared a tuna sandwich at a drugstore lunch counter, but that wasn’t the same.
At 9:30 she turned on her Philco clock radio and listened to The Romance of Helen Trent and Our Gal Sunday while she made her bed, emptied the wastebasket, and shoved her dirty clothes into the hamper. Monday, she’d take everything to the Laundromat as she did every week. She’d end up doing most of the household chores in any event because her mom was usually too drunk to do much except lie on the couch in the living room, smoking cigarettes and burning holes in the rim of the wood coffee table. She tidied and dusted her desktop, night table, and bookshelves. She shook out the scatter rugs off the porch rail and left them there to air. She wet-mopped the linoleum on her bedroom floor and then went over it with Johnson’s Jubilee, liking the glossy wet shine, though she knew it would dull as it dried. In the bathroom, she scrubbed the tub, toilet, and sink with Babbo cleanser. There were too many chips and stains to make a difference, but she felt better knowing it was done.
At 11:00 she ironed her best white Ship’n Shore blouse with the Peter Pan collar and baby doll sleeves. She took a shower and got dressed. Violet had called to say she had a big surprise, and when she and Daisy swung by the house at 11:45, she was driving a brand-new Chevrolet. She laughed at Liza’s wide-eyed response. Liza couldn’t remember ever even sitting in a new car, and here she was marveling at the white sidewall tires, the dashboard, the interior upholstery, and shiny chrome window cranks.
Violet drove into Santa Maria, where the three of them had lunch in the tea room at the Savoy Hotel. Liza and Violet both had shrimp cocktails for a first course and then this tiny cup of chicken soup and a plate of finger sandwiches-brown bread with cream cheese and chopped nuts, egg salad, ham salad, even one with watercress and thinly sliced radishes. She and Violet ate with their little fingers crooked up, pretending to be oh so lah-di-dah. Daisy had buttered noodles, which was just about the only thing she’d eat except for Welch’s grape jelly on bread. They had layer cake for dessert, and Liza’s arrived with a candle in it, which she blew out, blushing with pleasure as the waiters and waitresses stood around and sang to her. Just when she thought life couldn’t be any more perfect, Violet handed her a small box wrapped in beautiful lavender paper. Liza opened the gift with trembling fingers. Inside there was a silver heart-shaped locket about the size of fifty-cent piece. Inside there was a tiny photograph of Violet. “And look at this,” she said.
She pulled the photo aside to reveal a second heart-shaped compartment behind the first. “That’s for your true love,” Violet said, pointing to the blank space. “I predict within a year, you’ll know exactly who it is.”
“Thank you.”
“Oh, Sweetie, don’t cry. It’s your birthday.”
“This is the best day of my life.”
“You’ll have others much better, but enjoy. Here, let’s put it on.”
Liza turned around and lifted her hair while Violet fixed the clasp. Liza put her hand against the locket that was nestled in the hollow of her throat. The silver was already warm from contact with her skin. Her lucky charm. She could hardly quit touching it.
Violet paid for lunch out of a thick wad of bills, making sure everybody noticed. She seemed pleased as Punch and more than once remarked that life was soon going to be one hundred percent improved. Liza thought if that were really true, she wouldn’t have to repeat it four times during the meal, but Violet was like that.