Mirror, The (17 page)

Ginny nodded in agreement. She watched as Mike straightened his shirt, sighed, and threw an arm around Katie's shoulders. He appeared no worse for wear.

Though Katie was undoubtedly shaken by the experience, she didn't say a word. She instead let her actions do the talking. She gave Mike an approving glance, extended her arm around his back, and burrowed into his side.

Ginny then turned to her left and looked for James. She found him standing on the curb a few feet away. He appeared lost in thought as he stared across the street.

"Are you OK?" she asked.

"I'm all right."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Thanks for standing up to them," Ginny said. "That was brave of you."

James turned to face Ginny. He wore the expression of a defeated man.

"Yeah," he said. "I was real brave."

Ginny grabbed his hand.

"Don't let those jerks get to you. Don't let
anyone
get to you."

Ginny glared at the moviegoers who had remained silent.

"You should all be ashamed of yourselves," she shouted.

Several in line greeted her admonition with laughter or condescending stares.

Ginny tightened her hold on James' hand and waited for him to meet her gaze.

"We came here to see a movie, James, and I intend to see that movie. I want you to escort me proudly into the theater."

James smiled sadly.

"OK."

"Say it louder."

"OK!"

Ginny smiled and kissed him on the cheek.

"That's better," she said. "That's much better."

CHAPTER 28: VIRGINIA

Wednesday, May 20, 1964

Virginia Jorgenson, features editor of the
Seattle Sun
, stared at the manuscript on her dining table as she started her fourth cigarette and third cup of coffee. She didn't care much for the new reporter's flowery prose, but she admitted that he knew his stuff. She tried to remember the last time she had enjoyed reading an article on the dangers of dancing the Twist.

The editor began to circle a typo on the second page when she heard a knock on the door. She sighed. Even with Joe at his shop and the kids in school, she couldn't seem to find an uninterrupted moment to herself. As she got up from the table and walked through the house to the front door, she braced herself for a close encounter with a cosmetics peddler.

When Virginia opened the door, though, she found not a salesman or even a neighbor in need of a cup of sugar but rather two young women standing on her doorstep. Each wore a pastel dress and a matching sweater. Both carried purses. One held a toaster in her hands.

"Hello, ladies. What a surprise," Virginia said. "What can I do for you?"

Ginny Smith, appliance holder, spoke first.

"We're sorry to bother you, Mrs. Jorgenson, but we felt – I felt – that you should know about an accident this morning."

"Oh? What kind of accident?"

"It's the toaster, ma'am. Katie broke it. She broke her promise."

Katie reacted predictably. She glared at her blunt sister, who seemed to revel in the moment, and then smiled sheepishly at the toaster's owner.

"I didn't mean to," Katie said.

"She didn't either," Ginny said matter-of-factly. "I was there when it happened. She slipped on a wet spot on the floor and accidentally spilled some milk in the toaster when it was toasting. When it started to smoke and sizzle, I pulled the plug. I'm not sure it can be saved, but I thought you should at least know about it."

Virginia did her best to contain a laugh. These two could interrupt her work any day. They were as adorable as kittens on Christmas morning.

"Please come in. We can talk about it inside."

Virginia led the girls down a short hallway and through the living room to the kitchen. When they reached the adjacent dining area, a bright room with yellow walls, she took the toaster from Ginny, placed it on top of the table, and pulled out two sturdy chairs.

"Take a seat and make yourselves comfortable," Virginia said. "Can I get either of you something to drink? I just made a pot of coffee."

"Coffee would be nice," Ginny said.

"I'm fine, thank you," Katie said.

Virginia smiled as the girls took their places at the table and put their purses on the floor. It was clear that Katie did not want to impose any more on her landlord. She was clearly suffering from toaster remorse.

The landlord walked to a percolator near the sink, poured a cup of coffee, and returned to the table. She placed the cup in front of Ginny just as she sneezed.

"Bless you," Virginia said. "Do you have seasonal allergies?"

"No," Ginny replied. "I have smoke allergies. They bother me all year long."

"Achoo!"

"Oh, my. You too?"

Katie nodded.

"Well, let me fix that," Virginia said.

She snuffed out the cigarette in the ashtray and walked a few feet to a bay window that offered an unobstructed view of a large backyard. When she lifted the sash on each side, clean air came rushing in.

"Is that better?" Virginia asked.

"It's much better. Thank you," Ginny said.

Virginia returned to the table. She sat in her chair, folded her hands, and studied each of her guests, who sat together at the opposite end of the rectangular table. Both wore nervous smiles.

"So let's talk about the toaster," Virginia said. "You say it smoked and sizzled?"

Ginny nodded.

"It popped, too, but only for a few seconds."

"That sounds serious. I'm thankful it didn't do more, like cause a fire."

"We are too," Ginny said.

Virginia glanced at the silent twin.

"Do you have anything to say?"

Katie blushed.

"I'm sorry for killing your toaster, Mrs. Jorgenson. I'll happily pay for a new one."

Virginia bit her lip. Her morning kept getting better.

"I don't think that will be necessary, Katie. These things happen," she said. "We may even be able to save it. My husband is a licensed electrician and an all-purpose handyman. If anyone can fix a damaged toaster, he can."

Virginia sipped her coffee.

"That's enough about the toaster. I'm far more interested to hear why you two are dressed up. Do you have a big day planned?"

"We do, sort of," Ginny said. "We're off to the zoo."

"Well, I hope I'm not keeping you."

Ginny shook her head.

"You're not. We want to get there by noon, but we're in no big hurry."

"Good. I was hoping we could chat for a few minutes."

Ginny looked at Katie and then glanced at their host.

"Did we do something wrong?" Ginny asked.

Virginia laughed.

"Good heavens, no. I just wanted to learn more about my new tenants."

"OK."

"Have you girls had any breakfast?"

"We had some toast," Ginny said. "Well, I did, anyway."

Virginia looked at Katie and then Ginny.

"Would either of you like a cinnamon roll? I made some fresh this morning."

Both girls smiled and nodded.

"I thought you might. Give me a moment and I'll get you some."

Five minutes later, Virginia brought out more coffee and a plate of glazed rolls. She felt guilty about keeping her tenants, but not too guilty. There was something about this delightful pair that didn't add up, and she wanted to find out what it was.

"So tell me about growing up in California. Do you come from a big family?"

"We're the oldest of six kids," Ginny said.

"Six? Oh, my. I consider three a handful. Your parents must be very special people."

Both girls smiled.

"We like them," Ginny said.

"What does your father do? Katie?"

Virginia suspected that she might get further with the quiet one. She knew from more than twenty-five years as a reporter and editor that the best answers often came from those least willing to talk.

"He's a geologist and a professor, ma'am."

"A professor? How interesting. Where does he teach?"

Katie gave her sister a sidelong glance.

"UCLA," Ginny said. "He's an adjunct professor. He teaches only when he feels like it."

"I see. He must be very good to teach only when he feels like it."

"He is," Ginny said. "He's
very
good."

"How about your mother, Katie?"

"She's very good too," Katie said.

Virginia laughed to herself. She had met two masters of evasion.

"What I meant to ask is: 'Does your mother have a job outside the home or have any hobbies or special interests?'"

"She volunteers at the library," Katie said.

"What a wonderful way to contribute to the community. When I was in college, two of my housemates worked at the university library. They both found the work very rewarding."

"She likes it," Katie said.

"Well, your parents sound like wonderful people."

Deciding it was time to bring Ginny back into the discussion, Virginia glanced slightly to her left. She found a young woman who had moved beyond answering questions for her sister and was now examining several black-and-white photographs on the wall of the dining area.

"Do you like what you see?" Virginia asked.

"I do," Ginny said. "Who took these pictures?"

"I did."

"Wow. They're really good. I wish I could do something like this."

"Are you a photographer?" Virginia asked.

"I try to be. I took photos for my high school newspaper, but I never took any like these. These are amazing. I especially like the one of the boy at the cemetery. It's beautiful."

"I took that at a funeral here in 1953. The boy's father was one of the last American soldiers killed in Korea. He was only twenty-five years old, his wife twenty-four."

"It must have been hard to take the picture."

"It was more than hard, Ginny. It was almost impossible. After I took that photograph, I left the cemetery and wept in my car for more than an hour. I almost quit my job that day. That funeral was the most difficult assignment I've had as a journalist."

Virginia watched the girls closely as they reacted to the story. Ginny returned to the photo and studied it like an artifact. She placed her fingers on the frame and ran them down the sides, as if to gain additional meaning from the poignant image of a boy saluting his father's casket. Katie placed her fingers on her cheeks – to brush away the tears. She was a blubbering mess.

"You said you took photos for your school paper, Ginny?"

"I did. They were mostly pictures of sports and other activities."

"Did you bring your camera with you to Seattle?"

Ginny turned away from the photo and faced Virginia.

"No. I left it at home."

"Would you like to use one of mine? I have an old Leica M3 that I rarely use. I'd be happy to lend it to you until you find something more to your liking."

Ginny looked at Virginia's puzzled eyes.

"Is that a 35-millimeter camera?" she asked.

"Indeed, it is. It's one of the best on the market."

Ginny smiled.

"I'd love to borrow it. Thank you."

"Good. I have just two requests."

"OK," Ginny said in a tentative voice. "That seems fair."

"The first request is simple enough," Virginia said. "I want you to take pictures today. I want to see what you can do at the zoo. Can you do that?"

Ginny nodded.

"I can do that."

"Don't worry about the film. I'll provide you with all that you need."

"Thanks," Ginny said. "What's the second request?"

"Oh, that's a simple one too."

"What's that?"

Virginia smiled.

"I want you to treat my camera better than a toaster."

CHAPTER 29: GINNY

Ginny glanced at her sister as they proceeded southward along the Ave and noticed that she was having difficulty walking and reading a bus schedule at the same time.

"How much farther to the bus stop?" Ginny asked.

"I don't know," Katie said. "Maybe five more blocks. The route map is not very clear."

"Let me see it."

Ginny grabbed the tri-folded schedule from Katie. When she looked at the map on the back, she saw that her sister had a point. The map was as clear as Mount Rainier on a foggy day.

"See? I'm right," Katie said.

"OK. You're right. Do you want a prize or something?"

"Yes," Katie said. She smiled. "I want your hairy little man."

"Never," Ginny said.

Ginny laughed as she thought of the troll doll, which sat atop her dresser. She couldn't believe she had held onto the thing, much less given it a prominent place in her bedroom. Then she thought of it in a different way and grew wistful. The doll was a reminder of the life she had once had – a life she missed and still wanted back.

She pondered the night at the fair for a moment and then quickly purged it from her mind. She knew the surest way to go bonkers was to dwell on things she could not change. She had more important things to think about – like a sister and friends and a country fair less than four months away. The present and future mattered now, not the past.

Ginny thought about the present day as a reminder of the time – a camera strapped around her neck – bounced wildly from side to side. Grabbing the Leica M3 with both hands, she gave the device a thorough inspection and once again thought about the woman who had lent it to her.

She could not believe anyone would loan a relative stranger a camera worth several hundred dollars. Then again, Virginia Jorgenson was not like anyone she had ever met. There was something about her, besides the obvious, that was different – and that difference bothered her.

"Do you think she's on to us?" Ginny asked.

Katie paused before answering.

"No," she said. "I don't think so."

Ginny glanced at her twin.

"You don't sound all that certain."

"I'm not. I'm not a hundred-percent sure anyway."

"Why is that?" Ginny asked.

"I'm not sure because of all those questions. She asked a lot of questions – and she asked me questions that could have been directed at
you
. I don't know why she singled me out."