Thelma pulled down the visor and checked her hair in the mirror. “Everything.”
They remained sitting in the truck as the air conditioning dissipated, and Thelma was left sweating while beholding the woman beside her. Just as she worked up the courage to saywhat she thought of Gretchen’s appearance, she heard, “You’re really pretty, you know that?”
Thelma had to clean out her ears. Did Gretchen just callherpretty?
“Oh, you think so?” She knew she was blushing. Bill—and Sandy—always accused her of blushing when she was put on the spot. “Thank you. This hair takes a while to do.”
“It’s not just your hair, although it’s very nice.” Gretchen’s constant attempts at eye contact led her to suppress an embarrassed laugh as she finally faced forward, hands dangling on her steering wheel. “You’ve got quite the style. And a very nice smile.”
“You know…” Thelma tilted her head, a dire attempt to get her date to look at her again. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
Gretchen inhaled deeply enough that her chest stuck out and her throat curled back. “Yeah, well, you’ve got me beat in the feminine beauty department. There is no contest.”
“Who said it was a contest? I think you’re plenty beautiful.”
If Thelma’s cheeks could blaze fire through the cabin, then Gretchen’s didn’t even need starter fluid. She was redder than the feelings encapsulating Thelma’s heart.
“So…” Gretchen’s voice cracked most gloriously as she switched subjects. “When I thought of something for us to do kinda last-minute on a Saturday afternoon, this was one of the first things I had in mind.” She pointed to the business sign on the parking side of an old brick building.I bet it looked brand-new in my day.Thelma hadn’t been down Ventura Boulevard a lot since it was a winding way from Hemlock Street, but she also bet that this building used to be home to a general grocer’s during her childhood and a sewing shop in the ‘50s. It just had that vibe. “Hope it’s okay that I made some assumptions about you.”
“Make all the assumptions you want. Megan says I was in a cult! We’re just saying whatever we want around here.”
Laughing, Gretchen finally opened her driver's side door. “Do you need help getting out?”
Thelma was about to say no, but when she opened her door, she realized the ground was about fifty feet away. “Maybe.” In those heels? Yes.
She waited for Gretchen to round the front bumper of the truck and swing around the door. “Here.” She offered her hand again. “Easy does it. Dang, those are some heels.”
“Well, guess what?” Thelma ignored the way Gretchen’s gentle yet calloused hand felt against hers as she neatly hopped down to the pavement, green purse slipping down her arm. “They’re vintage. Made in 1957. Purchased at Bullock’s.”
She knew she had left Gretchen confused, but as Thelma hoisted her purse strap back up to her shoulder, she stepped behind the concrete parking barrier and waited to hear the truck door close behind her. Giggles flew from her lips as she faced a piece of graffiti on the brick wall.HORSEPOCKY.Amazing. Or, should she say… rad?
Gretchen led her around the corner and onto the busy sidewalk, where people from all walks of life carried both store-branded and reusable bags. “I was with my uncle scouting some new work around here last week,” Gretchen explained as she gestured to the Very Vintage sign hanging from a plaid awning. “Walked by this place and thought of you.”
“You did?”
“Yup. They’ve got a ton of mid-century stuff. Seems to be your thing.”
Mid-century, huh?She had heard that phrase before in the same context, but it was Thelma’s first time savoring a term to describe herstyle.“I only really know the ‘50s. The ‘60s are beyond me.”
“I’m sure you would have fit right in, either way.”
You have no idea.She waited for Gretchen to open the glass door leading into the cozy vintage shop, distracted by the bright orange one-piece on the mannequin in the window.That must be the ‘60s.Such a garish color and scandalous cut would not have flown in Thelma’s time.Kinda wish it would have, though.Sandy would have looked amazing with the matching big orange sunglasses.
“Hello!” came a cheery voice from behind the back counter. Out popped a middle-aged woman with cat-eye glasses and a polka-dot shirtdress that almost bowled Thelma over to witness. “Oh, my, look at you!” The woman stopped to adjust her glasses as she peered at Thelma’s whole look. “You are a vision! That hair! Those shoes!” Another gasp ripped through the room. “Thatpurse!Is that an original?”
“This thing?” Thelma was put on the spot, but for once, someone was gawking at her with confused intent. “Suppose so. It belonged to… my grandmother. She bought it in the ‘50s.”
“What a vision! You have seamlessly blended a casual but feminine late ‘50s style with modern cuts! What’s your secret?”
Gretchen cut in. “She’s just built differently.”
“You’ve come to the right place, sweetie.” As the woman approached, Thelma realized that it wasn’t polyester or some other plasticky fabric mimicking the kind of housedress she would have worn only a few months ago.Cotton. Real cotton!“I’m Charity. I own this boutique, and I wouldloveto dress you in something. What’s your poison?”
“My what?”
“She means what do you like?”
“Oh!” Thelma thanked her date with another smile. “I’m quite partial to the mid-50s, myself. But I can also look good in some ‘40s schoolgirl clothes.”
