Part 6 (1/2)
”Uh . . . well . . . sure. That sounds great.”
”Super. Why don't you come sit with me at lunch? I'm getting so tired of the same old people and the same old conversations. Know what I mean?”
From that day on, the two of them had been inseparable. Juliette invited her over after school, they went to the movies together on weekends, and they spent warm afternoons at the beach. Those months were among the happiest of Charlotte's life.
It had taken some time before Juliette's true intentions made themselves clear. First it was just small statements, little hints. ”Wouldn't it be fun if I went with you to the Hearst Ranch sometime?” Which grew into ”Do you think I could come watch you on the set?” Which then became ”Do you think your father might give me a small part?”
Charlotte had worked up every bit of her courage and approached her father about it. ”Just a little part. Just for fun.”
When Juliette stopped by the house later that night, Charlotte's father was still there. He sat Juliette down and told her that if she really wanted to be in the movies, she was going to have to be willing to do the work, and there were no free rides where he was concerned. She smiled and nodded. ”Of course, of course, thank you so much for the advice.” Moments later she had developed a headache and left for the evening.
Charlotte went to school the next day, excited about the weekend ahead. She waited at the usual place outside the cafeteria for Juliette, but Juliette never showed up. Charlotte began to wonder if her friend was sick-maybe last night's headache had been the start of something. And then, in her second-period cla.s.s, Suzette Lemons leaned forward and whispered, ”Big crush on Cary Grant, huh? I heard you practically stalked him at Mr. Hearst's home in San Simeon. So much so, they had to ask you to leave him alone.” She then leaned back and roared with laughter.
Charlotte sat completely stunned. There was one person and one person only who knew that story. Why would Juliette have told it? By the time lunch rolled around, it was abundantly clear that other stories had been shared, as well. Charlotte was the laughingstock of the entire school.
When she went to the lunch table to confront her best friend, Juliette looked up coldly and said, ”This table is reserved. You need to go sit among your own kind. My days of charity work are done.”
Lauren pulled out her iPad and Googled the name Charlotte Montgomery. There wasn't much information. Most of Charlotte Montgomery's public life had happened well before the computer age, but Lauren did dig up a little bit about Charlotte Montgomery's father. His name was Collin Montgomery, and he had apparently been something of a big-deal producer back in Hollywood's golden era. He had been married to a socialite from New York, who had one son. There had apparently been multiple affairs, including one with an aspiring actress named Jean. She became pregnant, and in spite of the fact that Collin Montgomery's wife did not give him a divorce-nor did it appear he'd even attempted to get one-Jean had her last name legally changed to Montgomery, and Collin openly kept her as his mistress and supported the child. A daughter named Charlotte.
Jean seemed to have given up any attempt at acting after the birth of her illegitimate child, but at an early age, little Charlotte was making regular appearances on screen. In Charlotte's early teens Jean pushed hard to get her daughter an established acting career, but it was troublesome. It seemed that Charlotte was not quite the beauty that producers and directors were vying for. Still, when Collin Montgomery bought a large share in one of the major studios, and when up-and-coming actors found out that their chances of getting into a Collin Montgomery film were greatly enhanced by being photographed squiring Charlotte Montgomery out on the town, well, she quickly became the darling of Hollywood social life. Aspiring actresses all befriended her, the men all dated her, and they all gave every indication of loving her. There were rumors of affairs with the likes of Errol Flynn and Clark Gable, among others.
Then, in 1954, Collin Montgomery died unexpectedly after a heart attack, and the truth became heartrendingly clear. In his will, he left his share of the studio and most of his Los Angeles holdings to his wife and son; he left a significant sum of money, a small LA bungalow, and a large Victorian home near the Santa Barbara coast to his mistress and daughter. Charlotte Montgomery was immediately blackballed by the studio and, by all indications, was never in a studio film again. Just as suddenly, paparazzi photos of her sitting at the Brown Derby with Deborah Kerr or Cary Grant, or even the lesser-known B actors, seemed to disappear. Louella Parsons and Hedda Hopper both made mention in their columns of her pariah status, and then her name went completely out of mention.
Lauren went to IMDb and looked for Charlotte Montgomery. Sure enough, there was a glamour shot from 1953, along with a fairly impressive list of movies Charlotte had appeared in. She seemed to have moved from big parts in minor movies to smaller parts in big movies. All part of climbing her way up the ladder, Lauren supposed. After 1954, there were no further entries. It was as if Charlotte Montgomery had ceased to exist.
Lauren rushed outside as soon as she received a call from Chloe that they were approaching the gate. Jasper's red pickup soon pulled into the driveway. It hadn't even stopped rolling before Chloe was out the door and hugging Lauren. ”I've missed you so much.”
”It's only been a week.” Lauren knew she needed to say the words, to throw Chloe off the scent of her terrible, awful day. Sarcastic humor was the best camouflage for this kind of pain.
”A week is a long time.” Chloe squeezed tight, then let go. ”Dad says to tell you he's sorry he couldn't make it. His knee is all swollen again, so the doctor has him lying down and icing it. You know Dad, he's put off a knee replacement for far too long.”
”Sounds like he should get it looked at.”
”Sounds like he should get it looked at? h.e.l.lo? It's not like you to fail to join in the campaign for Dad to have the surgery and take better care of himself.” She stood and observed Lauren for a couple of seconds. ”You are preoccupied. What's up?”
Lauren shook her head and looked away from the scattered dirt on the edge of the cul-de-sac. ”I agree that Jim needs to get that knee replacement, and I'm thinking that maybe Rhonda is wrong about some things.”
Rhonda, who had climbed out of the truck by now, hugged her and said, ”That can't be true. I'm sure that has never, ever happened.” She playfully flipped Lauren's hair back. ”What could I possibly be wrong about?”
”You, my darling and wise heart-mother, said that best efforts always pay off.”
”And you're trying to tell me now that this is not correct? Is that what I'm hearing?”
Lauren gestured toward the cul-de-sac. ”I planted some leftover flowers outside the fence across the street, thinking it would be a nice surprise for the elderly woman who lives there. When I got home just now, I found her having them all ripped out. So much for the nice surprise, huh?”
”You're kidding me. What kind of person would rip out flowers? What kind of person would make light of something so obviously considerately done?” Chloe's face glowed red with indignation. Even Rhonda's face turned pink.
Lauren shrugged. ”Apparently the kind of person my neighbor is.”
”Mom, can you imagine anything so rude? That is so awful. Why would someone do something like that?” Chloe was getting worked up now.
Rhonda kept one hand on Lauren's arm, squeezed, and reached out the other to put it around Chloe as all three of them looked toward the dirt in the road. ”Eric Hoffer once said that rudeness is the weak person's imitation of strength.”
”Yeah. Exactly.” Chloe nodded her head vigorously, then paused and looked toward her mother. ”Wait, what?”
”Weak people, they try to appear strong by being rude. Sometimes it's all they've got in the way of self-defense.”
”Hmm. Well, maybe . . . but it still really makes me mad. I'd like to . . .” Chloe's attention s.h.i.+fted toward the truck. ”What's taking you two so long?”
”You two?” Lauren looked at her friend.
”I told you, Cody's good with wood. He says he thinks he can replace that split panel without too much of a problem.”
”Cody? You brought Cody?”
”I told you that I might.”
”No you didn't. You said that he thought he could make a new panel. You didn't say you were bringing him here. How did you even get him through the gate?”
”Well, I told everyone that I might have forgotten to tell you he was coming, so when we got close to the gate, he lay on the floor and Mom covered him with some of the old rags we brought for the refinis.h.i.+ng. The guard at the gate never had a clue.”
”I can't believe you sometimes.”
”Oh yes you can. It's not like this is the first time I've surprised you. Won't be the last. Come to think of it, I'm not really sure why anything I do surprises you anymore.”
”That's true enough.” She leaned closer to whisper. ”You know I'm not ready for any kind of relations.h.i.+p right now. Not in the middle of all this chaos.”
”I know that, and so does he. We just brought him along because he's a friend of Jasper's, and because he's good with wood. Okay?”
”That better be what it is.”
”It is. I promise.” She looked toward the guys emerging from the truck. ”Come here, you two. Let me show you what Lauren's neighbor did.” Chloe grabbed both men and dragged them out into the street, pointing toward the scattered dirt.
Lauren saw a curtain flutter up in the third-floor turret. Perhaps Miss Montgomery was enjoying the little scene she had created. Well, Lauren wasn't going to give her any more satisfaction. ”All right, all you looky-loos. Enough gawking at my humbling rejection.” She glanced toward Cody, who was grinning at her. ”I think we all know it is not my greatest humiliation in recent history. Let's forget all about it and move on, shall we?”
Cody walked up to her and tipped his Atlanta Braves cap. ”I'll bet they were nice flowers, too. Don't let an old crank keep you from doing nice things. People who do nice things are getting fewer and farther between. The rest of us need as many of you as we can keep in circulation.”
”Says the man who just rode for hours to do work in the kitchen of someone he's barely even met.”
He nodded. ”Come to think of it, you're right. We nice people have to stick together. It's a cold, cruel world out there. Where's this piece of cabinet I need to replace?”
eleven.