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Contents ( 70)
  1. Dedication
  2. Contents
  3. Chapter 1
  4. Chapter 2
  5. Chapter 3
  6. Chapter 4
  7. Chapter 5
  8. Chapter 6
  9. Chapter 7
  10. Chapter 8
  11. Chapter 9
  12. Chapter 10
  13. Chapter 11
  14. Chapter 12
  15. Chapter 13
  16. Chapter 14
  17. Chapter 15
  18. Chapter 16
  19. Chapter 17
  20. Chapter 18
  21. Chapter 19
  22. Chapter 20
  23. Chapter 21
  24. Chapter 22
  25. Chapter 23
  26. Chapter 24
  27. Chapter 25
  28. Chapter 26
  29. Chapter 27
  30. Chapter 28
  31. Chapter 29
  32. Chapter 30
  33. Chapter 31
  34. Chapter 32
  35. Chapter 33
  36. Chapter 34
  37. Chapter 35
  38. Chapter 36
  39. Chapter 37
  40. Chapter 38
  41. Chapter 39
  42. Chapter 40
  43. Chapter 41
  44. Chapter 42
  45. Chapter 43
  46. Chapter 44
  47. Chapter 45
  48. Chapter 46
  49. Chapter 47
  50. Chapter 48
  51. Chapter 49
  52. Chapter 50
  53. Chapter 51
  54. Chapter 52
  55. Epilogue
  56. Author’s Note
  57. Acknowledgments
  58. P.S. Insights, Interviews & More . . .*
  59. About the Author
  60. Meet Gretchen Berg
  61. About the Book
  62. Reading Group Discussion Questions
  63. Behind the Book Essay
  64. Real-Life Inspiration
  65. Just for Fun
  66. Read On
  67. On the Nightstand in 1952
  68. Praise for The Operator
  69. Copyright
  70. About the Publisher

On the other hand, if her mother had submitted a poem and it wasn’t accepted, Charlotte would find her sitting at the kitchen table squirting Reddi Wip onto graham crackers and eating them one after the other. Those were a couple of pretty good indicators of her mother’s unpredictable moods. If she was just a little bothered, she’d be eating the graham crackers. If she was very bothered, she’d be in her apron, banging around the kitchen baking something. But there was a third level to her mother’s anger.

That night, after dinner, Charlotte had been on the way to the bathroom to brush her teeth when she’d heard a loud thump from her parents’ bedroom and then a faint whine. She peeked through the keyhole, absolutely against her better judgment, and saw her mother with a pillow pressed up against her face. She was screaming into the pillow. Charlotte had slowly backed away from the door and continued on her way to the bathroom. Then, the next day, she had come home from school to find a pan of seven-layer bars cooling on the counter, and two empty graham cracker boxes in the kitchen trash can.

For a double recipe of “7 layer Cookies”:

Have on hand:

1 large pkg, Nabisco Graham Cracker Crumbs

2 large baking pans (9x13)

1 Large pkg. Chocolate bits

1 “ pkg. Butterscotch bits

At lease ½ pound butter.

1 Large pkg shredded Coconut

3 Cans Eagle Brand Condensed Milk

About 2 cups chopped Walnuts.

1. Very slowly, melt the butter and stir in the graham cracker crumbs, thoroughly mixing.

2. Evenly divide the crumbs into each pan.

3. Pat down all over the pans

4. Scatter the chocolate bits lightly all over each pan (A hand full at a time)

5. Then, scatter some of the butterscotch bits, all over.

6. Then, scatter the coconut, lightly covering.

7. Follow this with the rest of the chocolate bits and the rest of the butterscotch bits.

8. Then, the rest of the coconut.

9. Open the three cans of Eagle Brand milk and pour over the coconut, being careful not to get too much along the edges. (One can per pan and divide the third can evenly over it

10. Then, scatter the chopped nuts all over each pan.

11. Have the oven preheated at 325 degrees and bake the two pans 50 to 55 minuts.

12. When the top of each pan shows a light brown and they are sort of bubbly, remove.

13. Cool slightly, and with a sharp knife, cut the cookies. Be sure to loosen along the edges.

14. Wrap in saran wrap and foil—put in the frigerator—or the freezer.

If Charlotte had had any idea about Mrs. Betty Miller’s gossip-filled afternoon tea party, and what was coming, she might have started banging around the kitchen to whip up her own batch of cookies. Or perhaps a wedding cake would’ve been more appropriate.

Chapter 22

Ah, to be a blushing bride. A girl’s wedding day was one of the most special days of her life, wasn’t it? No one talked too much about the second wedding day, though, especially if you had to marry the same man all over again because he’d been a bigamist the first go-round. The blush of humiliation was a different shade altogether, and one that Vivian would say was unflattering to her skin tone.