Out of Time by Paula Martinac

Author:Paula Martinac [Martinac, Paula]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781612940410
Publisher: Bywater Books

18

In my hurry to meet Elinor Devere, I actually considered showing up on her doorstep uninvited. But she had to be at least ninety years old, a ghost from another era, and I decided I should write her a note first. If she didn’t respond, I would have to seriously reconsider my strategy.

I planned it all very carefully. I had a print made of one of the photographs in the scrapbook, showing the four of them together in Montauk on a windy bluff. Then I bought some very elegant stationery, the nicest I ever had. In fact, now that I think about it, I’m not sure I ever had stationery before then. I was prone to using the backs of flyers from lesbian events and legal pads I stole from various offices I worked in. The fanciest I’d ever used was the letterhead of Out of Time, that had a cute, folksy logo that hadn’t suited Margielove and now didn’t suit me. It was a pen drawing of an hourglass resting on a quilt with some other antiques surrounding it. Margielove had obtained it from a five-dollar clip-art book of uncopyrighted designs. The obvious reason they were uncopyrighted was that no one would want to claim such an ugly design.

I couldn’t use that to write to Elinor. I had an elegant, creamy linen weave stationery printed with my name and home address. It made me look like someone important, someone people would want to meet, which was the whole idea, since I wanted Elinor to either write back or pick up the phone and call me.

I did several drafts of the letter before committing it to expensive stationery. For the final version, I used the fountain pen I found in Lucy’s box, which I refilled and broke in again. It wrote smoothly, like the words were flowing spontaneously out of my fingers to the pen to the paper. “Dear Elinor Devere,” it began. (I debated the salutation a long time; I refused to use “Miss,” on principle, but surely a ninety-one-year-old woman wouldn’t call herself “Ms.” Or would she?)

Some time ago I had the good fortune to purchase a scrapbook and photo album containing pictures of yourself, Sarah Stern, Lucy Weir, and Harriet Timberlake. I was so taken by the beauty of the photographs and the warmth in your faces that I have since done some research into the lives of Lucy and Harriet. In a way, I feel haunted by them and must know more. When I saw that you had bought Lucy’s onyx pin from my shop, I was thrilled to discover that one of The Gang was still alive, and could, I hope, relate for me what that time and these fascinating people were like.

I included my phone numbers and what I hoped was a sincere plea for her to contact me. Then I enclosed the print and mailed the letter.

The next few days were torture. I was anxious for Elinor to call, and after a week, was convinced that she wouldn’t.

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