Geezettes Book Two: Golden Girls on the Prairie

By Mary Ellen Erickson PhD

The Geezettes are at it again, and the town of Stuporville is totally unprepared for whats in store. Winter has just left the small North Dakota town, and all sorts of fun begins to spring up just as lifelong friends Rena, Melva, and Madge reunite. The three women the Geezettes, as they are affectionately known by their husbandsstep forward and settle in to find solutions to problems as varied as undesirable odors assaulting the town, eligible California Women entering the scene and stirring up local bachelors, and local small businesses fading away. When Rena decides to run for mayor, the pot really starts to boil.

Away from the public eye, though, the women also struggle with family problems, community chaos, grave health concerns, and marital strife. Even so, they struggle together, and that makes all the difference. Geezettes: Golden Girls on the Prairie, by Dr. Mary Ellen Erickson, IP Award-winning author, takes us to the heart of friendship and proves once again that there is no better place to live and grow old than small-town America.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Apr 11, 2011
• ISBN: 9781450295390

Mary Ellen Erickson PhD

Mary Ellen Erickson, PhD, grew up on a farm in North Dakota. She spent forty years as a teacher and counselor in North Dakota. Besides the Peanut Butter Club Mysteries, Erickson has published three children’s picture books, two adult nonfiction books, and three adult novels.

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Geezettes

Book Two

Golden Girls on the Prairie

Mary Ellen Erickson, PhD

iUniverse, Inc.

Bloomington

Geezettes Book Two

Golden Girls on the Prairie

Copyright © 2011 Mary Ellen Erickson, PhD

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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ISBN: 978-1-4502-9538-3 (pbk)

ISBN: 978-1-4502-9540-6 (cloth)

ISBN: 978-1-4502-9539-0 (ebk)

Printed in the United States of America

iUniverse rev. date: 4/6/2011

My Friend

By Mary Ellen Erickson

You helped me find solutions

To life’s problems, doubts, and fears.

You listened as we searched for answers.

You were there to comfort

My heartache, pain, and loneliness.

You showed compassion when I suffered.

You kept me from stumbling

Along life’s rugged, bumpy road.

You offered your hand to steady me.

You listened when I ranted

About life, religion, and politics.

You used logic to keep me informed.

You protected me from embarrassment

When my tongue was sharp and my words were cruel.

You set boundaries I learned not to cross.

You watched me change in body and mind,

As I entered life’s final stage.

You understood and shared your own challenges.

You laughed with me

When things weren’t always funny.

You relieved my stress and brought joy to my life.

You, my friend, are priceless!

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Epilogue

Reading Guide

Biography

Chapter 1

(April 6, 2001)

It is by chance we met … by choice we became friends.

—Unknown

Did you smell that stink out there? Rena Jane Olson asked as she approached her friend Melva Josephine Miller, who was seated at the big round table in the corner of the small café. Lila’s Café, with its half wallpaper, half knotty-pine walls, gray speckled tile floor, and large picture windows on either side of the heavy glass doors, was the only café in their small Midwestern town.

It’s not me! Melva laughed as she got up to greet her lifelong friend.

Oh, you! Rena tapped her friend lightly on the arm, after their bear hug. I’m glad you’re back. We all missed you so much this winter when you were down in Arizona! The excitement of seeing her friend again brought a glint to the large brown eyes, which dominated her face framed by shoulder-length, dark-brown hair—compliments of Laurel.

Well, it’s good to be back, Melva sighed. Arizona is okay, but it’s not Stuporville. Melva paused. What is that smell out there? she asked, while draping one arm around her friend’s petite body. Let’s sit down.

It’s the barnyard on the Patterson farm. Remember? Rena settled into her solid, comfortable chair. It stinks every year when the spring thaw comes. What’s different this year is the pigs out there. Old Patterson sold the farm last fall, and the new owner—I think his name is Wihre—has purchased some pigs to feed. Not only do the pigs stink, but the manure he’s spreading on his land stinks, too.

Oh, well, Melva shrugged, shaking her silver-gray head. It only stinks when the wind is from the south.

Not so! Rena held her right hand up in protest. The land he’s spreading the manure on is east of town, so we get it from two directions.

Not wanting to get into an argument with Rena, Melva glanced at her watch. Where is Madge? she asked.

Late. As usual. Don’t you remember? She … Rena’s voice faded as Melva tuned her out to reminisce. Yes, Madeline Mary McCoy had always been late, even when she’d lived next to the school.

The three sixty-something women had been friends since they’d entered Stuporville Elementary in the fall of 1943. World War II had been in full blaze, but the first graders didn’t even notice. Melva pictured the three-story brick building in her mind while trying to remember that first day of school.

Rena continued chattering, but she had changed the subject. She was back on the pig farm.

Melva continued daydreaming, smiling and nodding, but her eyes were not focused.

Jeez, Mel! I must be boring you! Rena studied her friend. You seem to be somewhere else.

Oh, sorry. I was just reminiscing about our early school days. Do you remember when we started first grade? I—

Heavens, no! Rena interrupted. I don’t remember anything from that far back. I can barely remember what I had for supper last night. Rena laughed at her own joke.

Here comes Madge! Melva’s blue-gray eyes brightened as she spied her friend’s profile in the frosted-glass doorway.

The two ladies stood up to greet Madge as she entered the café. Her energetic body, newly permed silver hair, and radiant smile were a welcome sight to her friends. Madge’s once-diminutive figure had increased in bulk, and her delicate facial features had disappeared as she aged. Madge looked comfortable in her own skin. After a series of bear hugs and gushy, sentimental greetings, the three women sat down to order coffee.

*    *    *

You ladies ready, now? asked Jodie, a perky young waitress with a long, bouncy pony tail.

My treat, Melva spoke up first. Put this on my tab, Jodie.

Oh, you don’t have to do that, Mel, Rena protested.

Yes, I do. I invited you. Now order!

Madge giggled. You two still arguing all the time?

No! Melva smiled sweetly. We just discuss loudly.

The three women laughed—the comfortable, friendly laughter that comes from being at ease with someone you know very well. Not only had the friends shared laughter for over fifty years, they had also shared sorrow and despair. Not one of the ladies had ever been to see a psychiatrist; each used her friends and better half for counseling.

Back in high school, they had been known as the three Muskerettes—a female version of the Three Musketeers. Melva, or Mel, as her friends called her, was the athlete, with a dry sense of humor and a sharp wit. Rena’s peaches-and-cream complexion, along with her dark features and perfect figure, made her someone that everyone wanted to hang out with, even if she wasn’t much good at anything. Madge, on the other hand, was an excellent musician and still played the organ and piano in church. She had a sweet disposition; she’d always worn her soft brown hair in a pageboy; and she was the glue that kept the group together.

Each woman had aged in appearance and mental capacity, but individual personalities had not changed much over the past fifty-plus years. Mel had learned to control her sharp tongue—to some extent; Rena had lost her Miss Congeniality title—thank God; and Madge had given up the pageboy for a permed, short, curly style worn by most of the women over sixty in the community—she’d always liked to fit in.

*    *    *

How can you stand that smell when you’re outside? Rena asked Madge, while holding her cup of coffee up to her nose and taking a sniff.

Oh, you get used to it. It comes and goes.

Has anyone complained to Wihre?

I suppose, Madge shrugged while taking a sip of her steaming cup of coffee and nibbling on her sugar cookie. Madge’s mother was of Norwegian ancestry, so Madge had learned to drink her coffee when it was very hot. Rena and Melva let theirs cool down a bit.

Don’t you ever get mad? Rena badgered Madge, showing a bit of exasperation at her friend’s lack of concern.

Madge smiled. There are more important things to get mad about. Besides, if you’re upset now, Ree, wait until that two-hundred-head feedlot comes in on the west side of town.

What? Rena shrieked.

Shush. The whole café will hear you. Madge put her index finger to her mouth.

Rena glanced around. She took a deep breath, took a gulp of her coffee, and whispered, All right. Tell me about the feedlot.

Ben’s on the township board, and he told me a fellow from South Dakota is going to put two hundred head of cattle in that feedlot west of town, on the old Beckner farm.

Can they legally do that? Rena always looked at Melva for answers to difficult questions. Melva was definitely the brains in the bunch.

How should I know? I’m no lawyer. Melva shrugged her shoulders as her face projected an innocent wide-eyed look.

There’s got to be a law against that! Rena took a big bite of her jelly roll.

I’ll ask Al when I get home, Melva offered and then changed the subject. She didn’t want to continue the discussion on community odors.

So … Melva turned to Madge. How are Ben and the grandchildren?

Ben has been busy this winter fixing up an antique tractor with Jerry. They work on that old tractor whenever Jerry isn’t busy with the cattle or hauling the kids to school events. Our grandchildren are sure involved in lots of activities …

As Madge rambled on about her grandchildren, Melva nodded and smiled, but her mind drifted off to the time that she, Rena, and Madge had been in school together.

We were sure alike, Rena, Madge, and I—happy to be in school, playing together at recess, staying at each other’s houses after school, and gossiping about the other kids in our class.

We were at the spring band concert last night. Jerry and Melissa’s kids are in varsity band. Not many kids join band anymore. It’s a shame …

Yes, things are changing. Modern kids don’t join band, chorus, debate, Future Farmers of America (FFA), or Future Homemakers of America (FHA) anymore. All they do is watch TV and play computer games. We loved the extracurricular activities in our school.

I wish Melissa would discipline those kids more. She lets them get away with everything. The oldest girl is only seventeen and has a steady boyfriend. I …

How soon we forget, Madge, Melva thought. If I remember right, you and Ben were walking around in the halls at school holding hands when you were a sophomore.

My daughter is the same, Rena comforted Madge. I wish she’d be firmer with those two boys of hers and make them stay home once in a while to study! Why, when we were young …

You hated to study, Ree. I remember your mother yelling at you all the time—it did no good. Melva rolled her eyes and bit her lips to keep from speaking.

What do you think, Mel? Madge questioned, interrupting Melva’s daydreaming. You’re so quiet—that’s not like you.

She does that a lot lately—space out while you talk to her, Rena explained. That could be a sign of Alzheimer’s.

Oh, I … Melva muttered and then paused for a moment. What the heck, I might as well be honest. Think back, girls, to when we were in high school. The three things we always talked about were boys, school dances, and how stupid and unfair our mothers were because they didn’t really understand us. Now we’ve become our mothers. We not only look like them—we also sound like them.

The silence was deafening. Rena and Madge were thinking. Melva waited patiently, sipping her coffee.

That’s true, Mel, Madge spoke first. But we’re not parents now—we’re grandparents.

True! Rena concurred, siding with Madge in hopes of derailing Melva’s argument.

Yes, we are, which is all the more reason we should butt out and not tell our children how to raise their children, Melva rebutted with spirit.

But, Rena interrupted, we should have the right to give them advice. Shouldn’t we share what we’ve learned through the years?

Only if they ask for it!

Humph!

Madge didn’t say another word. She’d never won an argument with the debate-squad captain in her whole life, and she doubted that today would be the day that she did.

Well, anyway, Madge changed the subject, "it’s been a long winter in Stuporville. Welcome home, Melva. The ladies of the round table raised their cups of coffee and clinked them together in agreement.

*    *    *

Look at you three. Involved in deep discussion, as usual. The high-pitched voice came out of nowhere.

The three friends turned to see two of the local widows walking toward their table. Edna Simpler, the older lady, followed her friend, Wanda Wicker, the Congregational Ladies’ group president. She never let people forget that fact, since she’d been president for twenty years. No one else will take it, was Wanda’s mantra.

Uh-oh, whispered Rena. Here come the church ladies.

So nice to see you’re back, Melva, Wanda bubbled while her large frame cast a shadow on the table. Her thick, steel- gray hair was always perfectly done each week in a bouffant hairdo at the local hair salon.

Edna murmured something and nodded in agreement. Edna blended in with any group of elderly women, because she was small, stooped, and had a short curly-gray hairdo.

We all missed your smiling face, Melva Jo. Then, without taking a breath, Wanda forged on. I had to come uptown to get some strawberry Jell-o for a salad I need to make for the funeral at the church this afternoon, and Edna needed some eggs for sandwiches, so we just hopped into the car, and here we are, and I decided we’d have coffee before we went back home, and—surprise, surprise—Melva’s back.

Wanda took a deep breath, as her abundant bosom heaved. Rena jumped into the conversation. Why is it that every funeral in town needs red Jell-o and egg salad sandwiches?

For a moment, Wanda was speechless; then she regained her composure. Oh, you, silly, she giggled nervously. There’s a perfectly logical answer for that. Everyone likes to eat Jell-o and egg salad sandwiches—that’s why we serve them.

I don’t, Rena retorted, looking her nemesis directly in the eye.

Well, dear, Wanda smiled sweetly. We usually have a few other things for people like you. Mind if we join you?

Please do, Madge offered quickly. She never felt comfortable when the conversation turned catty.

Edna and Wanda sat down and ordered coffee, and Wanda continued her monologue, telling the group about her sacrifices for the church. Edna drank her coffee, while adding an occasional That’s interesting or You never know.

Wanda also told the group about Dr. Phil’s latest words of wisdom. I certainly agree with him that we all need to be honest in our conversations with others, Wanda proclaimed, puffing out her chest as though her agreement made her the local psychologist.

That’s nice, Edna added.

When Wanda didn’t get any other response from the group, she drank the last drop of coffee from her cup and addressed her friend, Are you done, Edna dear?

Edna nodded yes.

Then let’s be on our way. I’ll have to help set up soon. The funeral starts at three.

As the church ladies exited the café, Rena breathed a sigh of relief. What is it about that woman?—I just can’t stand her!

Madge put her hand on Rena’s. "Now, Ree. Wanda has her good points, too. She does a lot of work for her church, and as you know, there aren’t many of us around this community to help out with church events anymore. I know—I’m