Page 52 of Maybe Some Other Time
Chapter twenty-one
From the Grave
“ Y ou’re telling me that after sixty years…” Thelma shut the door on the trunk and approached the driver’s side door of Robbie’s SUV, which she had borrowed for the shopping trip. “They still don’t have a Thanksgiving song? You’re telling me that Frank Sinatra never got anyone on that?”
“You’re kidding. Judy always sang his songs the best.”
Thelma was about to turn on the ignition when she saw a teenage girl in a baggy sweater and leggings pointing in her direction.
What is that about? Sure, Thelma had done herself up that day in her curls and “vintage” makeup, but most people didn’t actually stare at her.
If anything, she received compliments for her “classic” style. Then again, kids can be cruel.
“If you told me that the little girl starring in those movies with Mickey Rooney was gonna be such a huge star, I would’ve laughed at you.
” Pauline put her phone away as Thelma pulled out of the grocery store parking lot.
“That’s how time goes, though. You never really know who became famous and who faded into obscurity.
Nobody knows who Frank Fay is anymore! Oh, but they know Barbara Stanwyck! ”
“To be fair, Barbara was lovely. I had the biggest crush on her in high school.”
“And I missed the ‘40s! What about it?”
Thelma almost missed the green light from laughing so hard.
Yet the man in the car behind her helpfully blasted his horn at her to make her go.
“Oh, cut it out!” she snapped into the rearview mirror as the smooth ride of her son’s SUV hurtled her home.
“I swear, people have no patience these days. If I could change anything about the future, it’s this penchant for rudeness! ”
“You’re telling me. I’m used to saucy swearing and having two left feet, but some of these men today have absolutely no respect for a lady. My father would shoot ‘em. Hell, my mother would shoot ‘em to hear the way they’ve talked to me!”
Thelma told her about the young man who had hung out his window and catcalled Thelma at a red light. The fact that Robbie had been a part of it made Pauline die of secondhand embarrassment, but Thelma had reached a point where she could laugh even harder at her preposterous reality.
They had spent the better part of that Tuesday afternoon shopping for and gathering supplies for Thanksgiving dinner, which was shaping up to be a grand affair at Thelma’s place.
Six people! I can hardly believe it. Besides her immediate family, Pauline and Ethan were swinging by, and Gretchen had promised to bite her tongue around Robbie.
The only person missing would be Emma, who was having Thanksgiving with her own family.
I can’t wait to cook for everyone. Thelma remembered all her favorite Thanksgiving recipes by heart and was about to embark on a pie-baking spree that night.
The fact that they were capable of finding a decent turkey that late in the game cheered her up almost as much as the feelings still swimming inside of her after Vegas.
She hadn’t told anybody about that. Not even Megan knew that her grandmother had spent the night making love and remembering what it was like to be independent and free.
Now Gretchen would have Thanksgiving dinner with everyone. Wasn’t it lovely?
“Hope you don’t mind if I leave some of these groceries with you all until Thursday.” Pauline popped some gum into her mouth as they approached the residential streets. “I can’t believe I have to work tomorrow. They gave me every day but Wednesday off this week!”
“That’s diabolical. But of course. You’re still planning on swinging by early on Thursday, though, right?”
“Around nine, yes.”
“Megan says she wants to help and learn from some ‘historical’ pros.” Thelma turned down her street. “You ask me, nine is way too early for that night owl to get up. But she might just have to.”
“Great. A sleepy-headed student in the kitchen. Shall we give her the potatoes to peel?”
“Only if we want her blood all over the sink.”
Thelma pulled into the driveway. One light was on upstairs, where Megan probably hung out after coming home from class.
Next door, Gretchen’s truck was missing from her own driveway.
She said she had to work this week. They landed a big construction project that kicks into high gear next week.
Already, Thelma missed her—although, experience in marriage told her she didn’t need to be with her girlfriend all the time.
Having separate space was imperative! I’ll see her again on Thursday.
Probably not any sooner, since there was so much prep to do.
But if they could steal a moment for themselves after the dishes were done and everyone else had their food comas…
“Helllooo.” Pauline snapped her fingers by Thelma’s dreamy head. “Earth to Thel. What’s got you spacing out? Thinking about that girl again, are you?”
Thelma attempted to brush it off like the mature, grown woman she was, but just one look at Pauline’s knowing face made her sputter in withheld titters. “No,” she squeaked. “Thinking about that woman. ”
“Uh-huh… well, try to keep the lovemaking to a minimum on Thursday. My husband is easily distracted by awkward family moments.”
“For the love of… my son will be there! And my granddaughter!”
“Something tells me it’s your son that will be the biggest thorn in your merry side.”
Thelma shrugged as she unhitched her seatbelt and opened her door. “He can gripe all he wants. He’s not my keeper.”
“That’s right, hon. We left that shit long behind.”
Thelma considered that as Pauline got out.
With a flick of the fob in her hand, the trunk opened without her having to get out of the car as well.
Robbie is not my keeper… Even if Thelma had lived her natural life and now needed to reside with her son for medical reasons, he would still not be her keeper.
Just because she had been a fish out of water when she first arrived in this era didn’t mean he could dictate who she dated or how she chose to live the rest of the life God granted her.
That’s between me and the Lord. And whatever person she decided to remarry!
I still can’t get over it… same-sex marriage… in this day and age…
She went to help Pauline haul the groceries into the house. When she rounded the SUV, however, she saw some people crossing the street.
She vaguely recognized them as next-door neighbors from across the way.
The younger man was named Ben and lived with his elderly mother.
The middle-aged woman was Heather, and she was nosier than any of the other ladies on Hemlock Street.
Ask me how I know. Thelma was well-trained against women like Heather, who joined forces with Ben as they approached with the kind of friendly, neighborly smiles that instantly put Thelma on edge.
“Thelma, right?” Heather extended her hand and weakly shook Thelma’s fingers before retracting her digits close to her chest. A rose pink sweater hung loosely from her boxy body, and the graying brown of her hair fluttered in the breeze.
Ben, on the other hand, wore a brown T-shirt and khaki shorts, impervious to the November chill.
“Heather Davidson. From the white house right there.”
“Of course. And yes, my name is Thelma.”
“Thelma Van der Graaf.” Ben grinned like he had discovered her deepest, darkest secret and was about to tell the whole world.
That’s impossible. Yet Thelma was now on edge, her ears ringing and her cortisol levels rising.
“Robert’s niece, yeah? You really are the spitting image of your grandmother! ”
Pauline closed the trunk, only holding one shopping bag in her arms. “What’s going on?”
“Please, don’t mind us,” Heather cheerfully said. “We’re true crime fanatics, that’s all.”
“I don’t think Thelma knows anything about that.”
Thelma held her hand up to Pauline, insinuating that she would handle this. “Can I help you with something? Is this regarding my… grandmother?”
Ben almost gave it away when he snickered, covering his mouth with the hasty motion of a boy in trouble. Heather ensured that she gave him the side-eye of the year, anyway.
“As I said, we’re a couple of true crime fanatics who have followed your grandmother’s case ever since we found out about it years ago. Semi-famous case in this area, even though she wasn’t from Van Nuys.”
“I suppose Robbie living here made it more personal for you.”
“Oh, Robert is so closed-mouthed about it, but that’s how he always is!” Heather huffed. “We just wanted to come say hi. Happy Thanksgiving, and all that.”
Something about this encounter tripped Thelma’s warning bells, and it wasn’t because the neighbors had never really spoken to her before. “Is that all?”
“Well…” Ben tugged at the goatee struggling to grow on his chin.
Just shave it off, young man. Thelma thought that while simultaneously acknowledging that, biologically, they were probably the same age.
Is he a father yet, though? Didn’t think so.
“We couldn’t help but notice that you look a lot like her.
I mean, a lot. Especially when you, quite frankly, dress up like her. ”
Thelma refused to cast her gaze downward or show them how much that otherwise unnerved her. “I don’t ‘dress up’ like anyone but myself.”
“Of course! And you look utterly lovely in those vintage clothes.” Heather grinned.
“Actually, you remind me a lot of my grandmother. My mother had me young, you see, so my grandmother was the quintessential 1950s housewife. Styled herself just like you! She was all about the shirt dresses and curls. All you’re ever missing is a set of pearls! ”