Charlotte looked desperately over her shoulder, hoping her dad hadn’t left for work yet. But he had. He was always, always working. As she turned back to face her mother she felt the frustration bubble to the surface. She already felt absurd in the clothing, with her pigtails swinging crazily every time she moved her head, and one foot in a penny loafer, the other in an oxford. But this was not optional for Charlotte. This was part of belonging to something important, and she was not going to miss out on any part of it just because her mother didn’t understand it. She might have meant to keep those thoughts private, but she heard herself speaking aloud.

“You don’t understand any of this because you’ve never been a part of anything like this!” she barked, startled by the sound of her voice, and before she could stop it, “You never even went to high school!”

The words hung in the air like smoke as Charlotte whipped around to walk back to the front door.

SMACK! Right in the back of the head.

The smack caused her to stumble, and when she righted herself she paused for the briefest of seconds out of sheer shock. But then she kept going, striding purposefully through the living room in her mismatched shoes, and out the front door. Tears burning in her eyes. It would be years before she’d recognize the fear behind her mother’s slap. The helpless panic Vivian felt as her young daughter pulled away and ahead of her, exceeding her in life. Tears would burn Charlotte’s eyes then, too.

Chapter 10

1938

The smoke from the neighbors’ burning leaf pile stung Vivian’s eyes just a little, as it hung in the air over the Daltons’ backyard on that cold evening just before Halloween. The upside, she thought to herself as the outhouse door banged shut behind her, is that it does cover up the smell. She glanced at the few trees that bordered the yard as she wrapped Edward’s overcoat back around her and shuffled quickly back to the house. They were still hanging on to their leaves, but, Yep, she thought, winter’s on its way. Winter with that outhouse was something Edward had heard earfuls about last year, that was certain. Vivian knew she was just a crisis or two away from getting him to move them back to Wooster.

Little Charlotte was sleeping in her crib in the bedroom while Edward and Vivian listened to The Chase and Sanborn Hour on the radio. They always listened to the program to hear Edgar Bergen and his dummy, Charlie McCarthy, crack jokes. At exactly 8:12 p.m. there was a musical break in the program, and like he always did, Edward switched the radio dial from NBC to CBS to see what else was on.

“I don’t know why you can’t just enjoy the music until they come back on,” Vivian groused, knitting needles clicking as she made some red booties for Charlotte. She didn’t say it every time, but often enough that it got on Edward’s nerves.