Every morning at Jamieson, Baines, and Brown Law Firm, lists and letters appeared in the basket on her desk. Some were written in forceful capital letters, some in rushed handwriting that leaned excessively to the right, and some were printed in such light pencil strokes she had to squint to make out the words. Those pale scribblings came from Miss Drummond. When Sassy suggested the woman put a little more pressure on her pencil lead, she had been met with such a scowl of disbelief she’d given up and gone back to squinting. It wasn’t her fault if the writing was illegible and she got some of it wrong.
Her mind wandered. Davey had still been in the apartment when she’d left, his bare chest golden as he basked in the sunlight flooding through her living room windows, sipping his coffee and munching on Pop-Tarts. On her way out, she’d said to help himself to whatever he wanted to eat. Not thatshe had much in her kitchen, but after the love-in, they’d stopped on their way back from the park and bought the ingredients he needed so he could cook for her. Chicken, vegetables, rice… it was a bigger feast than she’d had in months. She hoped there were leftovers when she got home. She hoped he’d still be there, too.
Davey was groovy. He had a confident, contagious laugh, and he had lied about his musical abilities. Turned out he could sing, even manage a little harmony. She played for him that night, and he sang along. He told her she was really good, and she knew he was saying it for real because they’d already done what they’d come to her place to do, so there was no need for flattery. He told her she belonged onstage at the Riverboat, which made her laugh.
“Not quite,” she said.
“Maybe not, but soon,” he assured her, pressing a cool strawberry to her lips.
Davey hadn’t passed the “husband test,” though. Not that she was ever going to marry—she wasn’t—but she’d read somewhere that most girls “married their father.” Davey looked nothing like hers. Jim Rankin was tall and slim, whereas Davey was only a couple inches taller than she was. He wasn’t fat, but she could tell that he preferred food to exercise. She didn’t mind. A person’s physical body wasn’t important, after all. It was about their life force. Their aura. Their capacity for love.
But it didn’t hurt that Davey was the sexiest man she’d ever laid eyes—or hands—on.
Mostly what people saw when they looked at Jim Rankin was that he was wealthy. Sure, he was tall and darkly handsome, with sad brown eyes that held deep thoughts, but mostly he looked like money. A lot of it. He had come home from the war with shrapnel scars all over his body, jagged, violent marks that Sassy rarely saw, and he had inherited his father’s real estate practice. He got married, had two kids, then his wife had died. After he lost her, Jim Rankin had put all he had into expanding his company in preparation for his only son to inherit it. But Joey didn’t want it. He never had any interest in the family business. Sassy hadn’t been surprised by that. She’d never been able to imagine him in a suit and tie.
“Wild oats, Dad,” Joey said, shaking his dark curls and wearing the smile of a romantic. “So many wild oats to sow.”
Her father had been quietly devastated by the news, she could tell. He had raised both children after their mother died of brain cancer when Sassy was six and Joey was four. Neither of them remembered her very well, and their father didn’t talk about her. He never dated after she died, or if he had, he never brought a woman home. From that, Sassy came to believe that her mother had been something special and her parents’ love unique. Even though Sassy had only ever known one parent, she based her marital goals on that lofty example.
Sassy was positive she would never find anyone like that, who filled her in every way. She doubted it so much that she had decided never to get married. Besides, marriage was such an outdated tradition. She had no interest in living monogamously, when everything happening these days was so much more liberating. The sixties suited her perfectly. Being single was much less complicated.
Her father hadn’t been completely on his own, raising them. Minnie, short for Minerva, was a fortysomething, wiry woman, just a little older than Sassy’s father. Minnie was a housekeeper, but she was also their nanny most of the time. Sassy loved her dearly. Monday to Friday, Minnie lived in a small room on the first floor of Sassy’s father’s house, then she was gone until the next Monday. Sassy remembered asking Minnie why she disappeared on weekends, and Minnie said she had two little boys at home who needed her. She’d had a little girl as well, but the baby had died. When Sassy was about ten, Minnie grew a belly then took a short time away from work to take care of her third son, who she cheerfully declared was “quite a surprise.” When she came back, Sassy asked if she would please bring the baby sometime. There was more than enough room in their house, after all. Minnie had shaken her head. Too much work, she told her.
“The two of you are more than enough,” she said.
Sassy’s father oversaw their childhood, but Minnie managed it. She stayed with them until Joey turned sixteen.
All her life, the only thing Sassy ever wanted to do was sing, and since her father gave her such a generous allowance, that’s all she really did. She sang, sheread, she played guitar and sometimes the piano, and every day, she dreamed. Joey’s heart was set on playing pro baseball. He was very good, Sassy knew, since she’d seen him play at school and at the park with his friends.
Last January, Sassy had performed for her dad and Joey in their living room. She would never forget that night. It changed everything. When she finished playing, her father smiled and clapped, but she could tell he was doing it out of obligation more than anything else. He didn’t know anything about music. Joey, on the other hand, leaned back in his armchair the whole time, ball cap tugged low over his forehead, listening with his eyes closed. When she finished, he let out a whoop.
“Far out! My sister’s going to be a star!” He grinned. “I’ll be your roadie, Sass.”
Her father regarded Joey. “You already have a job lined up.”
“Come on, Dad,” Joey scowled. “She’s great. You know she is. Tell her.”
“Of course you’re good,” her father said. “Very good, Susan. You have your mother’s gift.” He turned back to Joey. “And you’re going to be very good in the real estate business. It’s time, you know. You’re old enough to hold down a real job.”
Joey chuckled and mentioned the wild oats again, then he hesitated, which was unusual for him. Joey wasn’t the kind of guy to think about things before he said or did them. The unfamiliar tension in his brow made her nervous.
“I ain’t taking your job, Dad. I got other plans.”
“I hope not as a roadie or a ballplayer,” her father said wryly. “Neither of those will cover groceries when you’re out on your own.”
She set her guitar down, recognizing the moment the spotlight moved from her to her brother. Joey didn’t look fazed on the outside, but Sassy felt a twinge of alarm when she saw a tightening at the side of his mouth. He was nervous about something, and it was something big. She hadn’t thought Joey was afraid of anything.
“I won’t be buying groceries where I’m going,” he said. “Won’t be cooking for a while, either.”
“No? You have a girlfriend I don’t know about?” Her father glancedbetween them with frustration. “I hate to break it to you two, but thousands of other kids want what you want. You’re not the only ones who dream of being rich and famous. The fact is, neither of you is going to get that coveted dream career. But,” he said, taking a breath, “even if I’m wrong and it does happen, I want you to have something else to fall back on. Something practical. Real jobs. And Joey, when it’s time, I want you to come work with me.”
“Not gonna happen, Dad. I have other plans.”
“So you said. Like what?”
“I wasn’t gonna tell you like this, but why not?” His casual smile looked forced. “I’m going to Vietnam.”
The words dropped like a bomb in their quiet living room, blowing their world apart. Sassy felt its impact like a shock wave slamming her chest. She couldn’t breathe.
