Part 43 (2/2)

”Isn't it too exciting for words to have your husband making his first picture with his cousin playing opposite him?” Marian gushed.

Cynthia looked at Warren and smiled, then turned back to Marian. ”It certainly is exciting,” she answered in a sweetly sarcastic voice. ”But not for some of the words I know, Marian.”

Marian liked her at once. She had a deep-seated respect for honesty, and the one who did not kowtow to the power of her pen was a rare person indeed. Her smile was genuine. ”Cynthia,” she said, ”I know just what you mean.” She held out her hand. ”I think we'll be friends.”

Laurence G. Ronsen was leaving his first Hollywood party. He felt vaguely disappointed; he had rather expected it to be a gay baccha.n.a.lian revel, complete with houris and dancing girls. He looked at Bill Borden, talking excitedly in the foyer. He would be glad when their business was completed and he could go back home.

4.

Peter sank into a chair with a sigh and looked up at Esther. ”I'm glad it's over,” he said.

She looked down at him and smiled. ”You're glad?” she asked. ”Maybe I'm not? Who does all the work when you play big-shot and give a party like this?”

A glint of humor came into his eyes. ”You do, Mamma,” he said pacifyingly. He leaned forward and began to unlace his shoes. ”But my feet were killing me all night.” He slipped his feet out of the shoes and into a pair of slippers. He stood up and began to take off his tie. ”You know, I've been thinking about building a bigger house. This place is getting too small for us.”

She paused in the middle of taking off her dress. ”What's the matter with this house, I would like to know,” she asked.

He turned to her. ”Nothing's the matter with it. It's just small and old-fas.h.i.+oned, that's all. Don't forget we built it before the war.” He waved his arm vaguely around him. ”I got my eye on a nice roomy place out in Beverly Hills. We can build a swimming pool and tennis court and still have room to spare.”

She turned her back to him. ”Unlace my corset,” she said. He bent behind her and fumbled with the laces. ”We need a swimming pool?” she asked. ”You can swim, maybe? Or a tennis court? In your old age you are becoming a athlete?”

His voice was m.u.f.fled behind her. ”It's not for me, Esther. It's for the children. How do you think they feel with everybody having a swimming pool and they haven't?”

”I ain't heard them complaining,” Esther said, turning around and facing him. ”Maybe you feel we should have a bigger house, not them?”

He looked at her sheepishly and began to smile. He advanced toward her and put his arms around her. ”There's no fooling you, Mamma, is there?”

She pushed him away with a smile. ”Act your age, Peter,” she said.

He stood there, a foolish grin on his face, watching her. ”I'm not so old yet,” he said.

She smiled at him. ”You can't be if you want a swimming pool and don't know how to swim.”

”But, Mamma,” he protested, ”I'm the owner of a big company and I live in a smaller house than half the people who work for me.” He walked across the room unb.u.t.toning his s.h.i.+rt. ”It's ridiculous, that's what it is. People must think I'm a miser.”

She turned away to hide her smile. Sometimes he acted more like a child than the children ever had. ”Nu,” she said, ”so build a bigger house. Who said no?”

”It's all right, Mamma?” he asked, crossing the room quickly to her.

She looked at him and nodded her head.

The sound of an automobile in the driveway came through the open windows. He walked over and looked out. Two headlights were coming up the driveway. ”I wonder who that is,” he said.

”It must be Mark,” she answered lightly. ”Doris told me he went over to Georgie Polan's.”

He pulled out his watch and looked at it. ”It's after three o'clock,” he announced. ”I'll have to speak to him in the morning. I don't like for him to be out so late.”

”Don't worry so,” she said with a mother's pride, ”Mark is a good boy.”

”I still don't like it,” he said, standing by the window and shaking his head.

She looked at him. ”Come away from the open window before you catch cold,” she told him.

Doris lay on her bed and looked out the window. The stars were bright outside and the moon threw a bright shadow across the window sill. The night was quiet and in the distance she could hear the sounds of field crickets calling to one another. She drew in a deep breath and held it for a moment in her lungs before she slowly expelled it. A lazy, contented feeling was slowly stealing through her. It had been a long time since she had been able to feel like that.

”Go and talk to Johnny,” her mother had urged. ”He won't bite you.”

Hesitantly she had done as her mother had told her. At first she had felt strained and awkward. She wondered if he realized she had been deliberately avoiding him every time he came out. Then she grew gay and confident as she saw he didn't have the faintest conception of what she had been doing.

Her mother had been right. There was really nothing to be afraid of. She had been running away from shadows.

Suddenly she felt the warm tears trembling on her eyelids. She put her hands wonderingly up to her eyes. They came away wet. She blinked her eyelids quickly. It was good not to be afraid and have to run away any more. She marveled at her mother's understanding. How long would it be before she would know as much?

Maybe never, she thought. But it really didn't matter now. For the first time in a long while she fell into a deep, contented, dreamless slumber.

Mark was tired as he climbed the stairs to his room. He wondered whether his parents were still awake. Pop wouldn't like his staying out so late. But what the h.e.l.l, you were young only once. He could feel the blood running through his veins as he thought of the night. Suddenly a chill of fear swept over him. What if the girl was sick? He had heard of lots of fellows who had picked up a clap from extra girls. As quickly as the fear had come to him it left him. Not this girl, she was too clean. He was the first, she had said.

He went into his room and undressed quickly in the dark. He put on his pajamas and went to his pocket and took out a little tube. Holding the tube in his hand, he groped his way to the bathroom in the dark. All the same, he wasn't taking any chances.

Johnny looked down at Dulcie's head lying on his shoulder. The perfume from her hair came up to his nostrils. He rubbed his cheek against its silky softness. ”Dulcie, are you awake?” he asked in a lazy, contented voice.

She s.h.i.+fted within the circle of his arms like a cat. ”Uh-hunh,” she murmured.

He smiled in the dark. ”Marian Andrews was trying to warn me about you,” he said.

She sat upright, suddenly wide awake. She tried to read his face in the dark. ”She did?” she asked, a sudden fright in her voice. ”What did she say?”

He looked at her. ”Nothing to get excited about,” he replied, pulling her head back on his shoulder. ”She just said that many people were jealous of you and I shouldn't believe any stories I might hear.”

Her breath rushed out of her and she felt limp and drawn. ”That's nice,” she said in a weak voice, ”but I don't know of anyone who would want to carry tales about me.”

He looked over her head in the dark. A wise and knowing smile was on his lips. She was too young to know how mean people in this town could be. It was a good thing for both of them that he knew. ”You know how it is,” he said gently. ”People like to talk.”

Her voice was sleepy again. ”Unh-hunh,” she said. ”People like to talk.”

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