The All-Girl Filling Station's Last Reunion (30 page)

BOOK: The All-Girl Filling Station's Last Reunion
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“Hello,” said a groggy Netta.

“It’s Lenore. Listen, dear, I want to run something by you before I call the newspaper.”

Netta looked at the clock. It was 6:18
A
.
M
. “All right, go ahead, Lenore.”

“This country is a mess, and it’s not getting any better.”

“I agree with you there, hon, but what can you do?”

“That’s just it. I know exactly what we can do and where we went wrong.”

“Well, good for you, Lenore,” said Netta, as she slowly got up out of bed and put Lenore on speakerphone and headed to the bathroom.

“Looking back now, it is clear that our first big mistake was ever doing away with the monarchy. This democracy thing is just not working. And we’ve certainly given it a fair chance for how many years now?”

“Two hundred and something, at least,” called out Netta from the other room.

“More than a fair chance, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Oh, yes, more than fair.”

“It sounded like a good idea at the time, and I hate to say it, but the majority of people in this country are simply just not capable of governing themselves. My Lord, look who they just reelected mayor. That man doesn’t have enough sense to tell time, much less run an entire town.”

“You’re right about that,” said Netta as she flushed the toilet.

“I know I am! And something has to be done before he runs us all into the ground. Nobody wants to spend all that money for those stupid bicycle paths.”

Netta came back to her bedside table and took Lenore off speakerphone. “I agree, hon, but what do you propose?”

“People just have to step aside, and let someone who knows what’s best for them take over.”

“Sounds good, but who?”

“Well, this is where I need your feedback, Netta. Not to toot my own horn, but you know I have excellent organizational skills.”

“You wouldn’t be president of all those clubs if you didn’t, Lenore.”

“Right. So I’m thinking about just stepping in, bypassing the entire election thing, declaring myself mayor, and just be done with it.”

“Well, I don’t know why not, Lenore. You sure couldn’t do any worse.”

“That’s right. I say throw the bums out. Start small, on a local level, and then we can decide where to go from there. I don’t see where we have any other choice
except
absolute rule. Do you?”

A
FEW SECONDS LATER
, at 6:21, Sookie picked up her phone. “Hey, Sookie, it’s Netta. I’m sorry to call so early, but your mother’s at it again.”

“Oh, no. What’s she done now?”

Netta chuckled. “Nothing yet, but she says she wants to declare absolute rule, appoint herself mayor, and overthrow the city government.”

“Oh,
God
… is she serious?”

“I don’t know. It could be just one of her whims, but just in case, you’d better get over there and stop her, before she calls the newspaper.”

“Thanks, Netta. I’m so sorry she bothered you again.”

“Oh, that’s all right, I’m used to it by now. But you know, Sookie, as crazy as it sounds, she just might have a point.”

S
OOKIE DRESSED AND HEADED
straight over to her mother’s house. She found Lenore in the kitchen.

“Good gracious, what brings you over so early in the morning?”

“Mother, I am here because you cannot be calling up the newspaper and causing any more trouble.”

“Trouble? What are you talking about?”

“Netta just called me.”

“Oh, well. You know I’m right.”

“Mother, you may be right, but let me remind you one more time. Earle has to practice in this town, and I cannot have you stirring up another hornet’s nest. We haven’t finished paying for the last lawsuit.”

“But somebody has to do something. The man is going to ruin us all.”

“Fine, Mother. Just let someone
else
do it. Please—let’s just try and get through Thanksgiving without some big drama. Promise?” Lenore looked pained. “Please, Mother? For the family’s sake?”

Lenore sighed. “Well, all right. I promise. But you know I could whip that city council into shape in twenty-four hours.”

“I’m sure you could, but just let it be.”

“All right, Sookie. If you insist on interfering with my freedom of speech, then I have no choice but to be muted. But I must say you have certainly become very demanding of late. Are you sure that doctor didn’t give you pills?”

“No, Mother, he didn’t give me pills. I wish to God he had.”

L
ATER
, S
OOKIE STOOD IN
the kitchen, thinking about what all she had to do to get ready for Thanksgiving. She had never been a particularly
good cook, and yet, for the past twenty-something years, she had somehow managed to prepare three meals a day plus meals for all the dogs, cats, hamsters, and—for a short while—the alligator. She had always tried her best to provide good nutrition and balanced meals, but there were times when she had given in and let them all eat pizza. After all, when some boy with a lit “Pizza” sign on top of his car would deliver it right to the door, who was she to object? Her girls were not very good cooks, either. Her only hope was that Carter would marry a girl who cooked. Not only cooked, but who would just love to do Thanksgiving for the entire family.

Thanksgiving was always stressful. This year, Buck’s wife, Bunny, had invited the family to come up to their house in North Carolina for Thanksgiving, but Lenore had refused to go. She said, “Sookie, I don’t even like to have to write the word ‘North’ on a letter. Why would I go there?”

“Mother, please tell me you’re kidding.”

Lenore laughed and said, “Oh, I suppose I am … but I’m not sure.” Nevertheless, they didn’t go to North Carolina.

So, once again, Sookie was cooking. And, as usual, Lenore would arrive shortly before the meal, looking fresh and beautiful in some lovely outfit and sit and hold court all through the meal. It was so irritating. But one thing Sookie vowed she was not going to do this year was make the stuffing for the turkey from scratch. It took too much time, and it never turned out right. This year, she was going to order it from Bates House of Turkey, and she didn’t care who knew it. And if Lenore said one word about it, she would say, “Well, Mother, if you don’t like the stuffing, then next year, you can bring your own.”

NEWARK, NEW JERSEY

Dear Billy,

Hit Newark late Monday night, rain, sleet, zero visibility, and had to land at alternative airstrip in Tenafly. Landed in mud up to our you-know-whats. We had some damage, but at least we landed. The guys in the two planes before us flipped over, and one hit a fence. Whew. Anyhow, we were stuck here for a few days, and Pinks found out and called her dad and managed to get us tickets to a Broadway show called
Oklahoma,
and boy, was Willy happy about that. She sat up all night polishing her boots.

It was our first Broadway show, and what a show! Being from Oklahoma, Willy got pretty excited about the whole thing, and every time anybody on stage said, “Oklahoma,” Willy stood up and yelled, “Hee-haw!” It was pretty funny. I’m just glad she didn’t shoot off her gun. We went backstage afterward and met the cast, and Alfred Drake, the leading man, took one look at long tall Willy and asked her out, and I got to go along for the ride.

He is one snappy dresser. Offstage, he is strictly Fifth Avenue. He took us to Sardi’s, where all the big shots go, and we got a table right up front. And pretty soon, in walks George
Raft with six feet of blond bombshell in gold lamé hanging on his arm. Then on to the Rainbow Room and the Copacabana. What a night. And the next day, we went ice-skating at Rockefeller Center. I skated. Willy watched. They don’t ice-skate in Wapanucka, Oklahoma. Rode on a bus and a subway and had drinks at the Plaza Hotel. Oh, brother. How are you gonna keep Willy down on the ranch after she’s seen New York? She took to that town like hot cakes, and it took to her. Cabbies almost wrecked their cabs, waving and honking their horns at her.

Miss you,

Fritzi

AVENGER FIELD

S
WEETWATER
, T
EXAS

Dear Wink-a-Dink,

On a trip across, Willy and I stopped in at Avenger Field, and just so you know, after all my warnings, it seems our little sister Sophie showed up here a few weeks ago and is now in training. I was not happy about it, but Pinks said not to worry about her and that Gertrude and Sophie were both doing great. And I guess she is right. My mechanic, Elroy, said he overheard another mechanic say that “those Jurdabralinski girls sure know their motors. They can tell you what’s wrong, even before we check it out.” Our grease monkeying days are sure paying off here. I heard all the instructors are pretty impressed with them as well. One told me Sophie was a natural fly-by-the-seat-of-her-pants pilot. I wanted to tell him I taught her everything she knows, but for once, Miss Show-Off didn’t. Momma would be surprised.

I am sending you an article that was in the newspaper telling how our family now has four pilots flying for the good ol’ USA. Momma says Poppa is so proud, he is about to bust. Me, too!

I have no idea what you are up to, so the next time you write, tell the censor boys to lay off for just a line or two, will ya? Get this war over with and come home soon. I need to see your ugly face.

Fritzi

P.S. Gertrude brought her accordion and is pretty popular around the barracks. My pal Willy from Oklahoma said she had never even heard a polka in her life and is teaching Gertrude some country western tunes. Ever heard “Back in the Saddle Again?” Ouch. Pretty corny, but I didn’t tell Willy this.

LONG BEACH, CALIFORNIA

Dear Billy!

Now the tale can be told. It seems that the new big B-29 was having a lot of problems with engine fires, and a lot of the boys were afraid and refusing to fly the thing. It seems like Lieutenant Colonel Paul Tibbets must be anxious to get it up and going, because he secretly trained a few WASPs to fly it. He then painted “Lady Bird” on the side along with the WASP symbol, and they toured it all around the country to air bases. When they landed and the boys gathered around the plane and saw two females step out of the cockpit, it shamed them into flying it. No more refusals. I am proud as punch to tell you that those two little gals were bay mates of mine. Don’t know what Tibbets has in mind with the B-29, but it must be something pretty darned important.

Love,

Fritzi

THANKSGIVING DAY

P
OINT
C
LEAR
, A
LABAMA

H
AVING EVERYBODY HOME FOR
T
HANKSGIVING WAS WONDERFUL
,
AND
Sookie was glad to see all her children and Buck and Bunny, of course. But it was also a strain. When Lenore found out that Carter was bringing a girl home, she insisted that Sookie use the Simmons silver. “We don’t want her to think we don’t know better.”

O
N
T
HANKSGIVING
D
AY
, S
OOKIE
watched as Lenore took her first bite of the Bates House of Turkey stuffing, and she was ready with her rehearsed reply, but Lenore didn’t even seem to notice the difference. Next year, she just might order the turkey from there as well.

After dinner, when all the dishes were done and everyone else was busy watching football, she asked her brother, Buck, if he would come and take a walk with her outside. “Sure,” he said. “I need to walk off some of the turkey,” so they headed out the back door and down the stairs into the yard. As usual, the weather on Thanksgiving Day was warm and balmy. People in Point Clear were often still in their short sleeves until at least December, sometimes later. And
today was just perfect. They walked out to the end of the pier and sat down.

Buck took a deep breath and smiled as he looked out at the water and the big white clouds floating over the bay. “God, I love this place. Sis, do you remember all those summers when we slept out on the screen porch and listened to that old radio?”

“Oh, yes.”

“And remember those big thunderstorms and watching the lightning over Mobile? What a show. I sure miss this old bay, but”—he sighed—“Bunny loves North Carolina, so what are you gonna do? But it’s sure nice to come home once in a while. I know it’s a pain in the behind to have all of us and have to do all that cooking.”

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