Small town girls: life in the 1950s (for RussianBunny)

[Renton]

Jordan Driver was up at the crack of dawn, as he always was. He liked to begin his morning reading a passage from the Bible. There were many reasons for this tradition. For one, it reminded him of childhood. His mother and father would pray with him every morning that he'd have a good day at school and that his father would be safe at work. His father was a miner, and every day there was a real threat that he wouldn't come home that day.

Jordan took after his father in a lot of ways. He had his dad's short black hair, his tall, broad-shouldered build. He had a low baritone of a voice that could be gentle as a shepherd when he wanted and full of fire when he needed.

Second, it helped wake him up. Jordan refused to imbibe anything that could be addictive. Even cigarettes and coffee were off limits for Jordan. He wanted nothing to ever cloud his judgement.

Finally, it helped him choose good passages around which to base his Sunday sermons. Jordan was the pastor of his own church. He had taken over ten years ago when the local preacher finally retired. It was a daunting task; the congregation here was large and enthusiastic, but he had handled it well. He found strength in his daughter, who was loving and supportive. His wife had passed away a few years ago when she was struck by an out of control automobile, and it took every ounce of his faith to overcome the tragedy. He felt he wouldn't have without his daughter. She was everything to him. If he was strict in disciplining her, it was out of love.

Jordan searched the pages of his bible for a good passage to launch him into the day. He found one of his favorites: Psalms 5:3. "In the morning, Lord, you hear my voice; in the morning I lay my requests before you and wait expectantly."

He smiled. "Amen," he muttered, standing up to get dressed for the day.

~~~~~~~~

Becky Simon awoke with a groan as her alarm clock jarred her out of a nice dream. The redhead rubbed her green eyes and peered at the time. She sighed. "Six am is too early for human beings to wake up," she said, not wanting to forget the dream. She had been out on a date with Marlon Brando. He was going to take her for a ride on his motorcycle. Becky knew her mother didn't approve of the movies she liked to see. She'd have been spanked for seeing A Streetcar Named Desire if her mother knew a lick about its subject matter. Somehow it managed to evade her knowledge. Becky saw it three times. She didn't see any harm in movies; it wasn't like they were allowed to have anything indecent on screen, right? Regardless, movies were not the only area where Becky and her mother didn't see eye to eye. One of Becky's friends had a large collection of jazz and blues records, some of which had some downright scandalous lyrics. Suffice it to say, Becky went to her house often. She was also fond of that new, uptempo music that was always on the radio now. What was it called? Rock and roll, right? Becky loved it, but she knew her mother wouldn't approve.

The 18-year-old got up to get ready for school. She needed a head start to get her hair and makeup just right. She checked her figure in the mirror. She smiled at her curves. Marilyn Monroe was all the rage right now, and suddenly curves became the desirable look. Becky was naturally blessed in that department.

She bit her lip as she checked her bare backside in the mirror. She had gotten a spanking last night from her mom for sassing her at dinner, and to her relief the marks had started to fade. She'd be able to sit down in class comfortably, most likely. Becky hated that she still got spanked, but she would be the first to admit that she deserved it from time to time. She didn't always see eye to eye with her mom, but Becky loved her very much and trusted her judgement. Just not when it came to movies and music.

[Bye_bye_birdie45]

It was a fact of life: nobody, nobody, nobody ever wanted to be best friends with a pastor's kid. Not even fellow pastor's children wanted to be best friends with each other. Olive learned that rule by the time she was eight, and thankfully — by the time she was eleven — she didn't mind it anymore. It left her alone with her books, and they usually said nicer things than what the kids her age said to her face. And to date, a book had never stolen her glasses, or hid them in the coat closet, or threw them into a tree.

Another fact of life: kids with glasses — especially glasses with huge lenses, like the ones Olive wore—get picked on. Olive learned that rule even faster. Thankfully, Olive wasn't as "ugly" as many of the other kids who got teased in school: she had nice freckly skin, long soft brown hair, and dark eyes. She might even be considered very pretty if those stupid lenses didn't constantly cover a third of her face and if she dressed less conservatively. But Olive liked her glasses, and she liked her physical appearance and how she dressed, and she wasn't about to change that.

If she could change one thing though, it would be that she and her father wouldn't have needed to move out of her childhood home. The home with all her mother's memories in it. At least the town had altered her father's contract so they were given a new house: the home located next to their church, with the constantly ringing bell.

Olive was beginning to hate that bell. But she did love their new house: it was three-stories, which they'd never had before. While Olive knew her small family wasn't poor, they were not rich either: they didn't have a maid, as many other families around them had—and they had to save up heavily for gifts and such, but they got along fine. Or, as fine as Olive knew she and her father could, after her mother's death.


~~~~~~~


"Honey, come on downstairs!"

Mrs. Jennifer Simon was a very punctual woman, and she did not enjoy it whenever others were late, especially when they were members of her own family. Well, she understood with her husband: he had an extremely important job at an extremely wealthy law firm, and sometimes family came second. (She understood that quite well.) But her daughter was still a high school girl, and girls should always be punctual for everything. Then again, it was quite early, but Becky needed to have her breakfast before 7am in order to make it to school on time.

Not to mention, the maid — Mildred — had made a fine breakfast that morning, and she didn't want her daughter to go to school on an empty stomach. Or worse, with cold food in her belly. That was just unhealthy. And Mrs. Simon knew that her daughter needed to stay healthy - physically and in the mind - in order to have a good, proper life. And all these things of the modern times were plain unhealthy: her daughter needed to stay away from those things. That was just a fact.

[Renton]

It rarely occurred to Jordan that his profession might have cost Olive friends. He didn't see why anyone would not want to befriend his daughter; in his eyes, she was a lovely, intelligent, sweet girl. Perfect save for the need for a trip over his knee now and then. But then, he was her father. The nuances of teenage social rules were foreign to him.

The new house felt huge and even ominous at times. But it was a very charitable gift from the town. He always felt that charity should never been turned down; one never knows when charity will cease, so it is better to take it when it comes, he thought. Being closer to the church would save them money on gasoline, as would Olive being able to walk to school now. It was for the best, and for Jordan is was preferable in some ways. Everything about his old home opened the wounds of his wife's death. A fresh start was for the best.

When he was dressed, he walked across the hall to Olive's room and knocked. "Morning sweetie," he said. "I'm going to go fix breakfast, don't take too long getting ready, all right? You don't want to be late."

He headed downstairs and began to fix some scrambled eggs and bacon. It would be nice to have a housekeeper to handle the cooking, but it wasn't in their budget right now. They had always saved money. Jordan wanted Olive to go to college. He differed from a lot of people in this regard. Some felt that college was for boys, or for girls in search of a husband. But Jordan wanted the best for his daughter, and for a girl who loved books so much, college would be a chance to really let her mind grow and prosper. He hoped she'd find a good man to marry and settle down someday, of course, but he also worried sometimes that this small town didn't necessarily have the best crop of potential suitors for his daughter. She should at least see more of the world before settling down, Jordan thought.

~~~~~~

"I'll be right down, mother!" Becky called from her room. "God," she muttered under her breath as she fixed her bouncy red tresses. "She always says that, and I'm never late!" That wasn't true of course, as her backside could testify, but Becky was in a bit of a bad mood today. Summer vacation had just ended, and she was just not looking forward to the end of high school. It was so full of uncertainty.

She headed downstairs and greeted her mother. She knew how much her mother insisted that a good breakfast was necessary to start the day, and Mildred had fixed a good one this morning. "Thank you, Mildred," she said as she fixed her plate with eggs and sausages. "How are you this morning, mother?" she asked, wondering what was on Jennifer's agenda today.

[Bye_bye_birdie45]

"Morning, Daddy..." Olive yawned from where she slept before carefully crawling out of bed. The young brunette didn't consider herself to be much of a morning bird (if she had her own way, she would sleep in until past nine), but once she got up, she was usually ready to start the day. Not to mention, with her father as her alarm clock, she was bound to have some early mornings, so she was used to it.

Their new house, when Olive thought about it, wasn't terrible. There were only two major flaws: one was the church bell, which was something she unfortunately couldn't change, no matter how hard she tried. Unless she resorted to vandalism, which would never happen in a million years. The other "flaw" had been a blessing in disguise. When the Drivers "inherited" the new house, they also received all the old, outdated furniture inside of it. While they refurbished some of it, the majority of it was sold—and the money used to purchase a power washer and dryer for the laundry room (which had been empty). Yes, they were second-hand, but they were barely-used second hand: they worked extremely well, and they knew the salesman (who knew well enough to not lie to a pastor) so they didn't need to worry about it breaking down.

The three story, while very large, was beautiful: there was a wrap-around porch, and a three-seating swing in front of the kitchen window. The kitchen had been updated with modern appliances before they had moved in (one of the women of "the League" had mentioned something about a fundraiser when they arrived). They had finished the laundry room themselves and repainted a few rooms to suit their needs. While the house appeared a little empty because of the change of space (since their previous home had been one story), there was some adventure to it!

Because there were initially four "bedrooms", Paster Driver and Olive both had their own offices! Now Olive could do her reading and scrapbooking without having to worry about her father telling her that she was making a mess, and Pastor Driver could work on his sermons or whatever else he did in total peace. They had saved a very large desk from the old furniture that had been in the house: Olive nursed the old wood finish so it looked brand new, and she realized there were secret drawers that could hold secretive things. She didn't have any, of course, but if she ever needed to hide a birthday present or Christmas present from her father, it could be quite useful! Not to mention, it would give her a place to keep her more creative things: she had already moved her scrapbooking supplied into it—including her two cameras, Polaroid paper and rolls of film, which had been gifts from her grandmother on her mother's side—and she planned on putting her typewriter on the top of the desk, where anyone who came in could see it. She would need to purchase the typewriter, of course, whenever she saved up enough Christmas and birthday money, but there was a spot for it whenever it came.

This didn't mean she and her father were in total isolation from each other, of course. Since there wasn't extra money to purchase "fun things", the duo didn't have a record player or television, but there was a radio! It was large and rather old and sat in their living room; Olive was certain it must have been brand new during the Depression. Because of this, they sometimes spent their nights reading together with the radio going, or listening to whatever programs were playing. Olive was pretty sure her father liked it better this way, without too many modern "inconveniences" that could possibly corrupt her; she could be wrong though.

"Here I am," Olive chirped about twenty minutes later, coming down the stairs and entering the kitchen. Normally, she didn't take so long getting ready in the mornings, since she showered at night to avoid going to school with wet hair. But she had rolled her brown hair into pin curls the night before (which she normally only reserved for Saturday evenings) and then brushed it out a little this morning before tying it into a ponytail with a dark blue ribbon. Along with her blue dress with a slightly puffed-out skirt, it gave her a very adorable, modest sort of look. Olive hoped it would make her more likable, since the dress was meant to be for socialable wear and not for church, but it made her look very innocent.

"Breakfast smells wonderful, Daddy, but I could've made it, and you could've slept in!" Olive teased. She knew her father never slept in, but she certainly would've made breakfast if he had asked.

---------------------

"Becky, don't shout the house down. It isn't lady-like!" Jennifer said, despite the fact that she was doing it herself. She was slightly excited herself: her daughter was beginning her last year of high school today, and that was always fun. Jennifer remembered her last year of high school well: she had been popular and pretty, and she had gone off to college for a year and dropped out halfway through her sophomore year to marry her husband. That's what college was for, after all: for men to get therir degrees and make a living, and for women to find their husbands. Everyone knew that, Jennifer thought, and she was certain that's what her daughter was going to do. After all, if was just a shame if all a girl brought home from college was a piece of paper.

"Good to see you're up an awake," Jennifer said when her daughter entered the room. Both women shared the same red hair, but it looked much nicer on Becky, since Jennifer wore hers in a boufant. They were all the rage, and it was unladylike to not be up-to-date with the best of modest fashions. "I'm doing very fine, thank you—This is wonderful, Mildred, good as usual—Well, I was planning on dropping you off at school today, no need to for both of us to drive and to waste so much gas when I'm heading out to get groceries and to run some errands anyway. I also want you to come with me, after your classes are over, to the church: the pastor's finished moving into the house down the street, and we're holding a luncheon after the service on Sunday, and the League still needs some help moving chairs and setting up everything in that little area under the ballroom?"

Jennifer always spoke rather quickly, except when she was angry or making a point, and she almost always expected people to understand her and obey the first time. It was just a part of her personality, and it was probably the main reason why she was the leader of the town's Junior League chapter. It was an association of mothers and young women who wanted to better the community—which often meant they were constantly in everyone's business.

[Renton]

Jordan kissed Olive on her cheek as he plated her breakfast. "Sweetheart, if I ever sleep in, please make sure I'm not comatose. Sometimes I think that the sun only rises when I do," he joked. Jordan was very much an early bird; he used to wake up at 4 am so he could make sure he bid his dad goodbye when he went to work in the mines. He was terrified his dad might not come home if he didn't, and it became a habit he never broke.

"You look nice today," he said, noting his daughter's cute but modest outfit. "I know it's hard changing schools so late on, but I think you'll do well here, sweetie," he said as he sat down to eat. "Think of it this way; you're a senior. For freshmen, high school is a jungle. Your peers are enough of a worry, but three-fourths of the student body looks down on you. But you're entering a new school and by default there will be students who will look up to you."

Jordan couldn't really help but preach sometimes. It came naturally. His mother had once said he should be a minister on a lark when he was a teenager, he was so prone to long bouts of advice-giving and perspective-putting. But the suggestion took. He began studying scripture, conversing regularly with his pastor, and finally attended seminary, paying his own way by working as an ice-toter and a clerk in the local general goods store.

In short, being a pastor came naturally to him, and he was devoted to his job.

"Ah, I'm rambling again. I'll save that for Sundays. Just don't forget to have fun, sweetie. There are friends just waiting to be made in this town," he said, digging in to his breakfast.

~~~~~~~

Becky was down the stairs as her mom lectured her about shouting. Becky didn't care all that much about being ladylike; she often wondered why women had so many mores to adhere to for the sake of propriety, but she tended to keep these wonderings to herself. Her mom certainly wouldn't agree, and such talk was a great way to bore her friends. She hadn't become the dominant force in her social circle by preaching politics, although she hoped she'd find more open minds when she got to college. Becky knew her mother wanted her to find a husband in college, but she had every intention of learning a thing or two. Becky hadn't earned straight-As in high school for no reason, after all. She knew she was smarter than the boys in her school, and she'd be damned if she didn't get to flaunt that a little!

She checked the length of her skirt one last time. She knew her mother was a stickler for this, and she had gotten the length down to a science; the perfect balance between fashionable and modest. Satisfied, she headed down the stairs, careful not to run too fast lest she annoy her mother. She was wearing a powder blue poodle skirt, a white blouse, and a matching ribbon in her bouncy, wavy hair. It was showy, yes, but not at all immodest, and she figured her mother would not object, especially when they were in a rush.

As always, it was all Becky could do to keep up with her mother's rapid-fire speech. She tended to just nod and say "yes, all right, of course," which often meant getting roped into things she didn't really want to do. In this case, she only realized after agreeing to go that she was going over to the church to help set up the after-church luncheon. That sounded very boring, but it was too late to back out now. She was hoping to hang out with her friends after school, but that would have to wait.

"Yes mother," she said, resigned to her fate. "I'll recruit Tammy and Lizzy to help us," she added, hoping that having some friends along with her would make setting up less boring. They finished breakfast and piled into the car.

[Bye_bye_birdie45]

Olive giggled at her father's joke before she kissed his cheek in return and sat down for breakfast. She usually liked her father's jokes, although thankfully he only kept his wose ones for his sermons; they were never dirty, of course, but he could tell the worse puns on occasion.

"Thank you, Daddy," she said, grinning slightly as he complimented her, before he started up in one of his speeches. She didn't really mind his rambling; her father had a soothing voice, and he was never rude, and he was almost always right (except on certain modern things). Not to mention, her mother had loved listening to him for the same reasons: that, and she had been painfully shy, so listening to him talk was much easier for the first few dates than to talk herself.

"I'll remember, I promise," she said, getting into her breakfast as well. It was rather good, especially since she was quite fond of bacon and eggs, but when she noticed how close it was getting to school starting (especially since she had to walk three blocks), she set her plate in the sink, gave her father a hug and a kiss ("Have a good day, Daddy!"), then grabbed her things and headed out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was probably a good idea that Becky kept her thoughts about propriety to herself – at least where her mother was concerned. While Jennifer understood that sometimes, there was not a man in the household and the woman had to step up; that was all fine and good, if it happened, but if there was a possibility of it not occuring, then it was just better for the wife to stay home and do her duties as a mother and a homemaker. That was just the way God intended it, right?

"You look like a doll, darling, perfect and lovely in every way," Jennifer said as she and her daughter rose from the table, and Jennifer could get a better look at her daughter. Her daughter was lovely, everyone knew that, but it was always good for beautiful girls to stay modest until they're married – or who knew what would happen! She didn't want her daughter to end up in a scandal, especially if it meant she lived alone for the rest of her life.

"That sounds perfectly fine dear; it'll be good for y'all to help out," she said. Jennifer knew both Tammy and Lizzy's mothers were in the League – one as secretary, and the other was just a regular member – and it was always good to have tabs on whom was whose child. That was the best way to keep Becky away from girls who weren't worthy of her and her time. Not to mention, it kept the riffraff away: kids who did terrible things and disobeyed their parents. It was just horrible.

With that, Jennifer drove her daughter downtown.

While there were suburbs that were close to the school (which were three, four or five blocks away), the school was located in the heart of the town. There were also a great deal of other things: multiple diners, two movie theaters (segregated), the arts and crafts store, two Piggly Wiggly supermarkets (segregated), two barbers (segregated), and a large park, to name a few.

"Have a good day, sweetie!" Jennifer told Becky as they pulled up to the school. "And remember to act like a lady."

[Renton]

Jordan bid Olive goodbye and sat down to read the newspaper before getting on with the rest of his day. He felt that there was no true day of rest for a man of God; Sunday was God's day of rest, after all, and that was his most important workday of the week. But he still enjoyed moments of quiet when he could have them, and there was much quiet to be had in this large house. He was looking forward to meeting the local Junior League. As a pastor, getting to know his entire congregation was essential to him, and it seemed these ladies carried a lot of influence in the local community. He also thought it might be good for Olive to get to know them; perhaps getting involved in the League could be something for her to do to get to know some people, especially if these ladies had teenage daughters.

He checked the local football scores (a longtime weakness of Jordan's, as he'd been a star tailback in high school) before finishing up the paper. He sighed. Everyone had spent the last ten years pretending everything was peaches since World War II had ended. Jordan had served as a Chaplain during the war, some of his first work after being ordained. He had counciled many veterans after the war, and knew first hand how it haunted so many of them. There was much denial going on. He felt the world was on the verge of upheaval, both good and bad. On one hand, he was sickened by the racial segregation practiced in his state, and was pleased to see movements for racial equality were starting to gather throughout the country, including his town. He would never turn away someone from his church because of their skin color, but he knew many disagreed, and it baffled him. Weren't they all there to praise God? He hoped to change minds on the issue, but it was a dangerous road to go down.

On the other, he also sensed that the country's moral standards were dropping. Girls were increasingly immodest in their dress, boys increasingly crass in their speech, and everyone listening to provocative music and reading books that had foul language and frank depictions of sex. Maybe that would be something to mention next Sunday he thought, as he read a story about a controversy over a new bestselling book that was being banned in many counties. He folded up the newspaper and headed to his study. It was time to check his schedule and get to work.

~~~~~

Becky kissed her mother as she climbed out of the car. She enjoyed these drives through the downtown area. It was about as picturesque a little town square as you could imagine. On summer weekend evenings, it was easy to get lost in a sort of blissful haze as she went with her friends from drinking shakes at the diner to seeing a picture at the movie house. She noted that "On the Waterfront", the latest Brando movie was opening this weekend. She'd be first in line, of course.

The segregation was a sad reminder of the times, however. Nothing signified backwards thinking like racial prejudice to Becky. She'd once had a penpal from a non-segregated state and explaining what it was like to someone from an integrated society made her face burn red with shame.

Still, she was able to put these thoughts out of mind as she pulled up to her school. She kissed her mom goodbye. "I will mama," she said, giving a very slight eye roll. She greeted her friends outside the school and headed in.

The day went by as usual, and as Becky took her seat at lunch, Lizzy pointed out a wide-eyed, bespectacled girl in a bright blue dress. "Someone's out-bluing you today, Becky", she said, as Becky whirled around and spotted the girl. "New blood," she said with a smile. "Unusual for a senior. The pastor's daughter, I guess?" she said.

"Becky, what do you have in mind?" Tammy said, nervously.

"That girl has probably never had a properly fun day in her life," Becky said with a cheeky grin. "I think we have a project, ladies," she said, standing up and striding over to the new girl. Becky walked with confidence and bounce, with such momentum that anyone in her way would likely topple under her force. She walked right up to the new girl wearing the exact colors she was and smiled widely. "You must be the new girl, the pastor's kid?" she said. "I'm Becky Simon," she said, extending her hand for an introduction.

"Come over and sit with me and my friends," she said, taking her by the arm and not really giving her a chance to decline. "I love your dress, by the way," she added, noting that it was identically colored as her skirt. "It's clear that we're going to get along"

[Bye_bye_birdie45]

Well, the morning hadn't been too terrible, Olive supposed. Nobody said anything rude about her glass, and one of the younger kids (she thought they were younger, even though they were taller) had complimented her Oxford shoes! That was certainly a first (maybe it was because they were relatively new and weren't scuffed yet).

She stayed quiet during her first two periods, but she wrote many notes, especially about a book her English teacher raved against. He said it was deplorable and ill-mannered, but he never mentioned the name. Olive made a note to research it later.

When lunch arrived, however, Olive felt a little overwhelmed. Everybody knew everybody, and olive barely recognized the kids who'd been in her own classes. She was just about to deliberate eating alone when a troup of three girls came up to her, quite confidently. One of then had a skirt that was the exact same shade of her dress!

"Yeah," Olive said softly at the words 'pastor's kid', hoping she wouldn't get made fun of. "I'm Olive Driver..." And she shook Becky's hand, but she was very glad the redhead wasn't going to tease her over anything. "Um, uh, sure!" Olive squeaked when Becky dragged her arm and pulled her towards their table. "Thank you. I love your hair: it's quite pretty!"

"How long have you been here?" Tammy asked as they sat down.

"I've lived here all my life... but we just moved to this side of town right at the beginning of the summer..." Olive felt a little awkward. They seemed nice, but she hoped this wasn't some part of an elaborate, cruel joke.

"Why'd you move anyway?"

"Daddy got asked by the Junior League to move, and he and I moved."

"Your mama didn't move with you?"

"Um... no, she didn't," Olive said awkwardly with a blush. Her mother's car accident had been on the front page of the local paper, and followed up every day for a week and a half. She still had the clippings, hidden away from her father.

[Renton]

Becky thought she might have seen this girl before; the town was fairly spread out, big enough that the old saying "everyone knows everyone" didn't apply. People on the east tended to know others on the east, and the west stayed west. Maybe at the bookstore or library downtown? To say she looked bookish was an understatement.

It was right when Tammy asked about the girl's mama that Becky had a horrific realization. The car accident five years ago that had been front page news for ages... one of the victims had been a pastor's wife... that must have been Olive's mother! How had she not put that together before? It was one of those things that was obvious, but the tragedy had happened long enough ago that she simply hadn't thought about it when introducing herself to Olive.

She felt a surge of sympathy for Olive and wanted to correct Tammy, but it was too late. Olive was blushing and Becky wanted nothing more than to hug this poor girl.

"Where did you get your dress, Olive?" she asked, hastily changing the subject while nudging Tammy under the table. She sensed self-consciousness in Olive and thought that some praise for her fashion might brighten her up. "And you're too sweet. My red hair used to drive me crazy, but I learned to embrace it. I can give you hairstyling tips if you want, but really I learned everything I know from Lizzy," she said, pointing to her blonde, curly-haired friend.

[Bye_bye_birdie45]

Olive - although she didn't normally feel very uncomfortable talking about her mother or her death - was very glad for the change of conversation. While she didn't mind telling people after she knew them for a while, as an introduction, it was rather saddening.

"Um, my grandmother got it for me," Olive said with a grin. "She came and visited about a month ago, and we went shopping and she found this in one of the stores downtown. I'm not sure which one though..." For all Olive knew, all the really expensive boutiques downtown were the same: clothes she would never have. That is, if it wasn't for her grandmother, whom Olive usually referred to as Nana.

Nana and Grandfather Herbert were her mother's parents. They had loved her father the moment he stepped in the door to take their daughter on a date, and they'd been very happy when they became engaged and married. But they had been a strictly middle-class family, up until Herbert's death when Olive was about 10. Then Nana realizes that Herbert had kept a large savings account, with a very large sum of money, as a secret from his wife, to give to her when he died. (At the time, she hadn't been amused and shouted loudly, "What in seven hells, Herbert?!" when the banker came to their house and explained everything.) Being the smart woman she was, she kept her house and very meticulously watched over the account, although she did splurge now and again: usually on her granddaughter or herself. But she lived on the other side of the state, so Olive didn't get to see her much except during the holidays.

Olive was also very sure that Nana had purposefully hidden the price tag, so Oliver or her father wouldn't say it was too expensive.

"Oh, that would be lovely!" Olive said, grinning. "I normally don't do this much with my hair every day -"

"Have you tried using a curling iron?" Lizzy inquired. "They came out with a new model about a year ago: it's a lot safer than those with the wooden handle, and you can still plug it into the wall."

Olive shifted in her seat. "No, I don't have one. I-I don't have one of the wooden ones either; I just use pin curlers..."

"My mother uses those!" Tammy said with a grin; thankfully, her tone wasn't rude. She just seemed quite pleased to know what that was. Still, it made Olive blush a bit: teenage girls usually didn't like being compared to other girls' mothers, even if it was in a nice way.