It's the late 1920s. A tall and slender young woman with firey red hair and bright blue eyes wears a standard waitress uniform-- dress snug at the waist and a small white apron-- and wipes down the counter at a nameless diner in a southern Indiana town. Calvin Coolidge is President, and this is middle-class America, conservative, small and blue-collar. She's beautiful and cocky, and when the other woman working with her remarks on a good-looking man at the end of the counter and tells the redhead she doesn't stand a chance, the redhead arches an eyebrow and says...
"I'll bet you five dollars I can get him to marry me."
Three days later, the redhead and the man at the end of the counter are married. Two weeks later the marriage is annulled.
The redhead collects her five dollars and smiles. The Great Depression is on its way, bread is ten cents a loaf, and this five spot is a heck of a lot of money.
The redhead's name is Kate, although she'll ultimately be more comfortable with just Kay.
My Grandmother.
(Originally posted in
Red Room by me February 23, 2011, 10:26 am)
