Free The Astronaut Wives Club: A True Story by Lily Koppel Page B

to be at least five-two. She was so short that everything she wore needed tailoring. Nothing off the rack ever fit; the sleeves and pant legs were always too long. Since Gus would be next to go up into space, he wanted his wife to look her best. So he gave Betty some mad money to go out and buy new outfits, something to make her look as good as Louise had when she stood next to the Queen of Camelot, Jackie.
    The other wives still thought of Betty as an unsophisticated Hoosier and didn’t know that Betty (whose full name was Betty Lavonne) saw herself quite differently. Betty cared a lot about fashion and thought she was the best dresser of the group. “The wildest, too,” she bragged (in the near future she would be the first Astrowife to buy fur hot pants).
    Not many in the group sought out her friendship, but Louise Shepard was always sweet to her. She always complimented her on her adorable new accessories, a watch or a pair of screw-back earrings, color-coordinated to one of her spiffy outfits: “If there is anything out new like that,” Louise would say, gently touching a new wristwatch, “you’ve got it, Betz.” Louise was the only person who ever called Betty Grissom Betz —like she was Bette Davis or someone .
    “I need some clothes! I’m not doing too well down here,” Betty complained at one of the wives’ get-togethers. Hearing her cry for help, Annie Glenn invited her to come to Arlington for the weekend, and they would go shopping in Washington.
    On the train, Betty wondered if she’d in fact invited herself up and Annie had just been too polite to turn her down. She’d never been to the Glenns’ home, and she didn’t know Annie as well as the other wives. Annie had been a little aloof since the beginning of the program, especially since John had chosen for her and their two kids, Lyn and Dave, to remain in their house in Arlington rather than move near Langley as the other families had. Annie didn’t talk much at wives’ gatherings either, just smiled, as if she were above it all. The other wives initially mistook Annie as standoffish until they finally realized the source of her extreme shyness.
    The Life ghostwriter, Loudon Wainwright, in vigilant keeping with the magazine’s no-flaws policy, had glossed over what was embarrassingly obvious in person. Annie had a terrible stutter. She’d had it since childhood, as had her father, Doc Castor. The only time Annie could get through an entire sentence unstuttering was when she sang hymns behind the organ. John boasted, “Annie could make an organ talk.” In public, Annie usually just smiled and nodded.
    When Annie met her at the station, Betty nervously prattled on about whatever was on her mind, while Annie silently listened. Annie was very sensitive to others speaking, for she knew that when she herself needed to speak, her interlocutor would have to wait out her stutter and be patient while she formed her words. She didn’t want anyone finishing her sentences for her. Betty had to bite her tongue to hold herself back.
    As the two women roamed the big Washington department stores like Garfinckel’s and Woodward & Lothrop, running their fingers along fabrics and testing the resilience of stockings, Betty realized how difficult this simple activity was for Annie. Salesgirls would struggle to keep a straight face while she stuttered out her requests. Some even laughed. While it probably hurt her feelings more than she’d ever admit, Annie didn’t seem too fazed by it. The Marine wife, the only one among the Astrowives’ ranks, had developed an effective system; if she wanted anything, she’d write the salesgirl a note or bring something from home that she needed.
    Betty had never been on such a shopping spree. She tried on all sorts of stylish ensembles, the whole works: heels, gloves, hats, skirts, and dresses with full “New Look” swing skirts worn with lots of fluffy, floaty petticoats—which were usually reserved for teenagers,