Read Online Mrs. Lieutenant: A Sharon Gold Novel by Phyllis Zimbler Miller - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Phyllis Zimbler Miller
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probably can't
even imagine.
"You look beautiful," Sharon says to Kim.
"You too," Kim says.
Both women wear sleeveless summer dresses,
low heels, and nylons – in spite of the heat. Again, Sharon's dress
ends higher above her knees than Kim's. They both carry purses, and
in the purses, each has tucked a pair of white gloves.
"I can't believe you have gloves, too,"
Sharon said when they discussed this yesterday. "When I was growing
up my mother always made me wear them for shopping on Michigan
Avenue in downtown Chicago. I don't think most women wear gloves
any more."
"Mine are for wearing to church," Kim said.
"Do you think we should wear them to the coffee?"
"Let's take them in our purses and we can
always put them on there. If we wear them and we're wrong, we'll
feel ridiculous."
Now neither woman wears a hat. They talked
about this, too. "The only hat I have is a red felt one that a
sorority sister brought me from Florence – Italy," Sharon said.
"I'd feel funny wearing it."
"I have a straw hat I wear to church,” Kim
said. “I won't wear it if you don't want to wear yours.”
As they get out of Kim’s car, Sharon says, "I
hope we're not making a big mistake with our clothes."
Kim frowns. "How can they expect us to know
what to wear? It's not as if they've told us a thing."
"Smile," Sharon says, "we're on Candid
Camera."
At the door an attractive woman in her late
twenties, several years older than Sharon and Kim and wearing a
two-piece seersucker suit and a broad-brimmed hat, greets them. She
wears gloves. Sharon and Kim look at each other.
"Welcome," the woman says. "Please leave your
calling cards and pick up your nametags." She indicates the hall
table supporting a silver tray and a pyramid of yellow nametags.
"Mrs. Brisby, the commanding general's wife, is receiving
inside."
Calling cards? Several white cards are
stacked on the silver tray. Sharon shrugs as she picks up her
nametag with MRS. GOLD written below the words "ARMOR – The Combat
Arm of Decision" and SHARON written under MRS. GOLD. "Illinois" and
"AOB" are written in the two corners above the word ARMOR.
Sharon and Kim stand in the hall pinning on
their nametags. "Let's put our gloves on too," Kim whispers. "Good
idea," Sharon says.
As they slide their hands into their gloves a
thin man in his 50s wearing fatigues appears from the back of the
house. Without even glancing at them he opens the hall closet and
takes out a canvas bag, then ducks out the front door.
"Do you think that's the general himself?"
Kim asks.
"He had one star on his fatigues," Sharon
says.
They walk down the hall and enter a room
overflowing with chintz-covered armchairs and couches. There are
other older women scattered around among younger women who look to
be Sharon and Kim’s age. “The calling cards must be of the wives of
officers stationed here at Ft. Knox,” Sharon says to Kim. “The ones
who have post housing,” Kim says.
Sharon indicates the Japanese fans decorating
one wall. "He must have done at least one tour in the Orient,"
Sharon whispers to Kim. There are also Hummel figurines from
Germany lining the glass shelves of a cherry wood cabinet. Flowery
perfumes and the scent of spring flowers whiff towards them
accompanied by waves of chatter.
Sharon pictures herself back in the first
round of sorority rush at MSU, entering house after house filled
with strangers whose mandate is to look her over. The strangers
must judge whether she is the right caliber for their
"organization" while simultaneously she must decide whether she is
interested in "joining." Only here at Ft. Knox she is a part of
this group whether she wants to be – and still subject to
inspection.
Another woman in her late twenties, this one
wearing a purple linen suit, approaches them, glancing at their AOB
nametags. "Welcome, Mrs. Gold and Mrs. Benton. I'm Mrs. McDermott.
Let me introduce you to Mrs. Brisby." She leads Sharon and Kim
towards a gray-haired woman in a pink
even imagine.
"You look beautiful," Sharon says to Kim.
"You too," Kim says.
Both women wear sleeveless summer dresses,
low heels, and nylons – in spite of the heat. Again, Sharon's dress
ends higher above her knees than Kim's. They both carry purses, and
in the purses, each has tucked a pair of white gloves.
"I can't believe you have gloves, too,"
Sharon said when they discussed this yesterday. "When I was growing
up my mother always made me wear them for shopping on Michigan
Avenue in downtown Chicago. I don't think most women wear gloves
any more."
"Mine are for wearing to church," Kim said.
"Do you think we should wear them to the coffee?"
"Let's take them in our purses and we can
always put them on there. If we wear them and we're wrong, we'll
feel ridiculous."
Now neither woman wears a hat. They talked
about this, too. "The only hat I have is a red felt one that a
sorority sister brought me from Florence – Italy," Sharon said.
"I'd feel funny wearing it."
"I have a straw hat I wear to church,” Kim
said. “I won't wear it if you don't want to wear yours.”
As they get out of Kim’s car, Sharon says, "I
hope we're not making a big mistake with our clothes."
Kim frowns. "How can they expect us to know
what to wear? It's not as if they've told us a thing."
"Smile," Sharon says, "we're on Candid
Camera."
At the door an attractive woman in her late
twenties, several years older than Sharon and Kim and wearing a
two-piece seersucker suit and a broad-brimmed hat, greets them. She
wears gloves. Sharon and Kim look at each other.
"Welcome," the woman says. "Please leave your
calling cards and pick up your nametags." She indicates the hall
table supporting a silver tray and a pyramid of yellow nametags.
"Mrs. Brisby, the commanding general's wife, is receiving
inside."
Calling cards? Several white cards are
stacked on the silver tray. Sharon shrugs as she picks up her
nametag with MRS. GOLD written below the words "ARMOR – The Combat
Arm of Decision" and SHARON written under MRS. GOLD. "Illinois" and
"AOB" are written in the two corners above the word ARMOR.
Sharon and Kim stand in the hall pinning on
their nametags. "Let's put our gloves on too," Kim whispers. "Good
idea," Sharon says.
As they slide their hands into their gloves a
thin man in his 50s wearing fatigues appears from the back of the
house. Without even glancing at them he opens the hall closet and
takes out a canvas bag, then ducks out the front door.
"Do you think that's the general himself?"
Kim asks.
"He had one star on his fatigues," Sharon
says.
They walk down the hall and enter a room
overflowing with chintz-covered armchairs and couches. There are
other older women scattered around among younger women who look to
be Sharon and Kim’s age. “The calling cards must be of the wives of
officers stationed here at Ft. Knox,” Sharon says to Kim. “The ones
who have post housing,” Kim says.
Sharon indicates the Japanese fans decorating
one wall. "He must have done at least one tour in the Orient,"
Sharon whispers to Kim. There are also Hummel figurines from
Germany lining the glass shelves of a cherry wood cabinet. Flowery
perfumes and the scent of spring flowers whiff towards them
accompanied by waves of chatter.
Sharon pictures herself back in the first
round of sorority rush at MSU, entering house after house filled
with strangers whose mandate is to look her over. The strangers
must judge whether she is the right caliber for their
"organization" while simultaneously she must decide whether she is
interested in "joining." Only here at Ft. Knox she is a part of
this group whether she wants to be – and still subject to
inspection.
Another woman in her late twenties, this one
wearing a purple linen suit, approaches them, glancing at their AOB
nametags. "Welcome, Mrs. Gold and Mrs. Benton. I'm Mrs. McDermott.
Let me introduce you to Mrs. Brisby." She leads Sharon and Kim
towards a gray-haired woman in a pink
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