All Good Women by Valerie Miner Read Free Book Online

‘Oriental girl’ on the block.
    Wanda sought out the impassive clock. She stared at the black minute hand and the red second hand revolving over the creamy face. She knew the typing exercise backwards, so she looked for the brand name, to see if she could read from this distance as well as from the front row. ‘General Electric’ was clear enough, but she could not make out the bottom word, the city of origin. 3.40 — five more minutes until coffee break.
    â€˜Now is the time’ Ann tapped easily. It wasn’t bad once you found a rhythm. You could think about anything you liked. She recalled the Latin from her library book. How did they conjugate dono ?Perhaps she could work as a secretary at a university and sneak into courses on lunch hour. Papa would see his ‘dark beauty’ had a mind and a grave determination.
    Meanwhile, she typed, ‘for all good women’. Well, why not? Just see if Miss Fargo noticed, if Papa noticed. What was the point of coming to America if half your children didn’t get a chance? Of course nothing was too good for her brother. When Daniel was granted partial scholarships at Stanford and San Francisco State, Papa decided, ‘Stanford. We can afford it, if you work and I give something each month. We can make it.’
    Family! Ann clenched her teeth. But of course there were plenty of happy memories, in New York and here. She remembered making a snowman in Washington Square with Mama and Daniel. She remembered Papa showing them the giant dinosaur bones at the Museum of Natural History. She remembered those early, good Sabbaths at Synagogue, enveloped by the rich, sticky Hebrew words, cozy among her parents and their friends. Also the first sunny days in California were quite splendid.
    Across the room, Ann caught a glimpse of Miss Fargo. Now there was a self-sufficient woman. Ann had warmed to her during the last twelve months, imagining what it must be like for a woman of that generation to have a career, to be a ‘miss’ at her age. Ann had no intention of letting her work obstruct her family. But she knew enough to get educated first. She had talked about it with the other girls.
    Living with the others had been good for her. In the endless conversations with Teddy, Wanda and Moira, they all agreed you had to take from life when you were young. But the paradox was lurking. Despite their high expectations, they had each been raised by war women, whose memories and premonitions were shaped by rations of sugar and coffee and hope.
    The buzzer sounded. Miss Fargo called on the same pitch, ‘Break ladies.’ Chairs screeched across the floor. ‘Twenty minute break.’
    Moira followed her three friends into the lounge. ‘Old witch.’ She tugged a curl, wishing her hair would grow faster. ‘I’m sure she’s going to flunk me.’ She looked around the small table. Teddy was deep into an apple. Wanda sipped black tea with her eyes closed. Ann concentrated on her coffee. All of them represented Tracey Business School far better than she. How long could she stick it out? Would Miss Fargo pay her to quit so she wouldn’t tarnish the school’s reputation?
    â€˜They can’t flunk you.’ Ann was mildly exasperated. ‘As Miss Fargo says, “It’s just a question of finding the right spot for each girl.”’ She lit a cigarette and chuckled.
    Wanda laughed with her.
    Teddy added earnestly, ‘True, Moi. I’m the typist; Wanda’s the bookkeeper; Ann’s the office manager. Don’t you remember those aptitude tests?’
    â€˜But I’ve got no aptitude.’ She pulled out a stick of gum and inched away from Ann’s smoke.
    â€˜Sure you do, hon,’ Teddy answered. ‘What was it Miss Fargo said about you being a receptionist or something?’
    â€˜Receptionist! That’s like being kicked out of choir for singing offkey and invited to collate the