“Bye Mom. See you tomorrow. Will Aunt Gina be picking us up from school?” Pansy asked into the phone.
It was Sunday evening, a school day tomorrow. The girls were settling in to a routine of sorts, at least at her end Mrs. James thought; during the week with their mother and aunt, perhaps not so much, was her own first impression. Now on nights when Greg was going to be out late and she chose not to wait up for him at his place, the girls slept on the fold-out couch in her den. 
Their mother, Georgia Mendel, an art and design school graduate with a specialty in visual media, had hoped for a career as a designer. Ah, life! One magical day, whilst taking mundane team photos, she had met and been swept off her feet by Greg Mendel. Long, romantic story short, they were soon married and too soon the puzzled and exhausted parents of twin daughters. Twins were a characteristic of the Mendel line, his family explained. Totally unprepared for the upheaval, Georgia abandoned hopes of artistry and put her time and talent into raising the girls. Greg landed a bigger coaching job. She was resentful when away games took Greg’s help along with them. She was enraged when the away games became games away from home. After the long and drawn-out divorce, she drew increasingly on the assistance of her older and single sister Gina, who was steady and obliging and eventually just moved in with Georgia.
“Now that it’s decided that the girls are with us on weekdays, I’m thinking of trying to get something full time again.” Georgia discussed with Gina over a bottle of wine one night, after the girls had finally stopped talking to each other and settled to sleep.
“The placement orders finally say that he has them regularly on weekends? Well, that will throw off our schedules too.” grumbled Gina. She had a regular and boring, she complained, 8 – 4 job in the city police department. But it did give her time with her nieces, which she liked. Now she wouldn’t be seeing them on weekends, she would be bored then as well.
“I’ll ask about changing around some hours, if you like.” she offered, “Maybe I could get some weekdays off instead, depending on what you get of course, and spend some time with them after school. They are starting to offer flex time for some other parents, I think. But anyway, I’ll ask.”
Gina called Georgia at lunch next afternoon.
“So I went to personnel, or human resources, or whatever. While I was waiting, I was looking at the job postings. There’s a position for police photographer. Want to angle for this one?”
“What a terrible pun! Anyway, I’m not a cop, Gina. Don’t you have to be a cop?”
“Apparently not. Have to be able to fix police cruiser cameras, though.” she giggled. “From what I read, they want a college grad, up-to-date on photo equipment, who can ‘talk good’ in court. I’ll send you a link.” she said, ringing off.
Georgia took the job. The long hours and being on call were crazy-making, but she liked the money. Some days the girls stayed in an after school program, but mostly their aunt picked them up from school and they went home together. On Friday afternoons, because Georgia didn’t want to even go near the place, Gina drove them to their Dad’s and saw them safely into the lobby with Gervase. Early Monday mornings, she picked them up there. It was all kind of working out in fractured sort of way.
“Do you even know our real names, Mrs. James?” Pansy asked, enjoying having someone other than her sister to talk with at bedtime.
“I guess I don’t dear. I mean, I thought Poppy and Pansy were your real names. What are they?”
“Don’t you want to guess first?” Poppy posed the question.
“Oh, she”ll never guess. Let’s just say.” insisted Pansy. ‘You’re the oldest, you go first.”
“Gina Penelope Mendel. Pleased to meet you Mrs. James. May I introduce my younger sister? Mrs. James, this is Pamela Zoe Mendel.”
“Ivy Pearl James, and the pleasure is all mine. Your manners are very polished,” adding, “and how did you arrive at these nicknames?”
“Mom says it’s what we called each other when we were learning to talk. What are your twins’ names?”
“Max and Nate. I used to say their names together when I called them at the same time—’MaxyNate’. Now what would we get if we did that with yours? Oh I’ve got it—’PopnPan’.”
Giggling, Poppy went on. “Who are you named after Mrs. James? Such pretty names. Another Ivy or Pearl, like I’m named after my aunt?”
“Yes, my two grandmothers.”
“And your Mr. James?”
“Reginald Thomas. I called him R.T. My eldest son is named after him and his nickname is Reggie.”
“One time, Daddy made us sit with his girlfriend at a game and you’ll never guess what she did?”
“Well, I might have to know who she is to be able to guess that.”
“Kitty Doyle. She lives here too, you know.”
Twisting up the corner of her mouth into a guessing expression to hide her disappointment at this revelation, Mrs. James did make a guess. “She made fun of your names?”
Astonished, Poppy was the first to speak. “That was a really good guess! How did you know?”
Pansy added, “She seemed so pretty we thought that she would be nice to us.”
“Like Glinda.” nodded Mrs James.
“Who’s Glinda?” they echoed in twin speak.
“Glinda, the good witch of the south…from the Wizard of Oz….don’t mean to tell me you’ve never heard of the Wizard of Oz?”
“Umm, maybe a kids movie?”
So she decided then and there to add a library outing to their list of activities. She had plenty of opportunity to read to them at bedtime and it sounded as if they had some catching up to do in the children’s section. There were two downtown branches, Central and East. Central was wonderful for browsing but it was hard to park and going out to plug the meters was annoying to a dedicated browser like herself. Part of the charm for her was losing track of time. She did miss that about her old home; the convenience of walking, or biking, or driving over to the library, with its free parking.
Anyway, she couldn’t very well have the girls biking downtown even if they had bikes there, and it was too far to walk, especially with a pile of books. She remembered the stacks of picture books her boys used to bring home. They would need both transport and good size sturdy book bags—no more than you can carry yourself was her rule. Now she would add a new rule; library materials stay at the POP’s building.
She found a trip finder at ridemcts.com. The #15 bus would do nicely for getting to East, running along Oakland, with a few steps at either end. There was free parking there but it was only a mile away. R.T. had always cautioned her about starting up a cold car and driving a short distance. “Metal on metal is very bad. Always remember: a car runs on fluids Ivy, on fluids.”