All That Glitters (58 page)

But though Faun was not in residence, that didn’t stop her from tracking emotional mud into the house. Every day there was some difficulty, something to upset everybody, tears and high-tide emotions. The capper came when she was apprehended by a store detective at Gucci’s, having shoplifted some Italian scarves from a counter. Nor had Gucci’s been her only victim, for an examination of the contents of her bag revealed items purloined from other shops along Rodeo Drive.

It was the same story all over again, the Big Jolt on the six o’clock news, the press hammering at the gates, Belinda Carroll’s daughter held in custody, her bail set, her release, the pictures smeared all over the place, her jaded comment, “I was only doing my Christmas shopping a little early.” It required Frank’s smooth manipulations to get the charges quashed, he having gone from store to store making ample restitution and pausing for a friendly word here and there with owners or managers.

Yet, with things at their worst, hope lay just over the horizon. With the holidays looming, we all were afraid that Faun would start throwing her monkey wrenches around and find further ways to upset her mother or grandmother. Our pleasure may be imagined when she made the announcement that she would not be here for either Christmas or New Year’s, but instead was jetting off with the prince’s party to Las Brisas in Acapulco. It sounded just like a Jane Powell movie; His Highness had engaged a number of suites for his guests and was taking his own music group with him (not Ragtime Cowboy Joe, however). She inveigled Nana into furnishing her with new outfits (“Nana, do you think he’ll propose to me in
these
rags? I’ll pay you back, I promise, soon as we’re married. I can’t even think how rich I’ll be”), but the thought of Nana’s being repaid for the outlay seemed unlikely.

True enough, it would be hard to estimate the prince’s wealth, but Faun would prove equal to the task, I felt sure. And off she went, bags and baggage, off to see the wizard again, this time south of the border. All I could think of to say was
o-lay
!

Maude, too, was happy that Faun wouldn’t be around for the holidays. I could tell she’d been badly slowed down by the stress that Faun always managed to create when she was around. Ling had told me privately that Maude was suffering from bad blood pressure and hypertension, too. I was glad when among us, Belinda, Felix Pass, and I were able to persuade her in two decidedly important matters. First, I got her to let me make an appointment with her doctor, old Harvey Travers, who’d had her health in hand for years. He gave her some pills for her blood pressure. But pills or no, she was still nervous, and I knew she was suffering from insomnia and sat up watching
Cattle Queen of Montana
or
Artists and Models Abroad
on the
Late
,
Late Show.

Second, I had a private talk with Felix and Mildred Pass, whose fortieth wedding anniversary fell between Christmas and New Year’s Eve, and they insisted Maude come down to the desert and help celebrate. When she talked it over with me, I said what a terrific idea, she’d have a wonderful time and certainly she should go. And I went along, too, to make sure she did.

Being the originator of the Great Palm Springs Christmas Conspiracy, I arranged my schedule so I’d be spending the same amount of time away as Maude. She would guest with the Passes, I with Frank, while Belinda would stay with Angie over in Cat Wells, a scant five miles away.

I drove down with Maude in the Rolls; we arrived in the Springs shortly before four and went directly to the Passes’ house, where Felix and Mildred were waiting. When we’d been welcomed and had a look around, I said goodbye and continued on with Ling.

Lina O’Leary, one of the clan of Mexican-Irishers who were part of Frank’s extended family, admitted me to his house. I hung up my dinner clothes, jumped into swim trunks, and went out to catch the last rays of sun. While I basked, I telephoned over to Cat Wells and talked with the greatest talker of them all. Angie was revved up like an Indy race car, full of questions, wanting to know all the latest dirt regarding Faun’s romance, how was it going, when was the wedding, like that.

Our conversation was interrupted by the door chimes. They rang and rang, and, deciding that Lina must be elsewhere, I excused myself to Angie and went out front to investigate. There was a car in the drive but no driver. Puzzled, I went back to Angie on the phone, and just then I spotted a figure coming around the corner of the house.

“Isn’t anyone even going to answer?” I heard that familiar voice call.

“Guess who just turned up at poolside?” I whispered to Angie. I uttered the magic name and said I’d call her later.

“Don’t they have anyone to answer the door?” Faun complained, coming toward me. Masking my astonishment at this unexpected appearance, I offered her a drink. “We thought you were in Mexico with—”

“Don’t even say it. It’s all over. I came home.” She hadn’t been gone more than six days. Had something happened? Yes, it had. The prince had dumped her on her little round tushy. It emerged that he’d never had any intention of marrying her. What he—and his sister, the toy princess—had hoped was that after Christmas, Maude would put them up at Sunnyside. Faun had said she didn’t think so. Ergo, el prince was now a thing of the past. The romance was
pfft
,
fini
,
kaputt
, over. Not only had Ashoka asked Faun to leave; more embarrassing, even before she could get her things packed, the gallant fellow had called a press conference to announce his betrothal to, of all women, his own sister Vashti, who as it turned out wasn’t his sister at all but a sufficiently distant relative to make marriage possible. Ashoka Ashokar, Faun quickly learned, was under royal edict to marry his “sister” and no other; not to have wed the little Vashti meant he would not get his money, the fabled millions that were his upon his majority, and so, of course, he must do as was ordained by fate and Allah. Too bad—our Faunie had never stood a chance of reaching the throne. I could almost have felt sorry for her. Almost.

When she began to cry, I made no attempt to stop her. By this time I’d seen floods of her tears and I thought the more she shed now, the fewer she might shed later, when her mother was around. When she confessed that she’d come here to tell me “first,” I took it as a compliment—though not too great a compliment. I figured I was the only one she wouldn’t have felt ashamed in front of.

Eventually, I persuaded her to go into one of the guest rooms and lie down; she seemed under heavy stress, and I thought a nap would help. Then I called Angie and laid the matter out to her and said to soft-pedal everything to Belinda. At five o’clock Frank arrived as scheduled. I heard his car pull into the drive, the tires crunching on the gravel and the whine of the garage door mechanism as he drove in. Moments later he strode into the living room, exuding health and vitality. When he asked whose car was in the drive I explained that we’d had an unexpected visitor, currently resting. I saw his expression change and I knew he was assessing the possibilities, wondering what damage she might cause. When I explained what had happened to explode Faun’s romance, Frank was sympathetic, though not surprised. Nobody would be, I suppose. We left her napping.

He made himself a drink, took a good swig, then slipped something from his pocket—a square velvet jeweler’s box. He snapped the lid to show me the contents: a diamond ring of exquisite design, 7 carats in a platinum setting. He planned on giving it to Belinda tonight, and he wanted to be married in seven weeks, St. Valentine’s Day.

Just then the phone rang and he went behind the bar to answer it. Since it seemed to be a call of some importance, to give him privacy I signaled that I was going in to grab a quick nap myself.

I don’t know how long I slept, but when my eyes opened, the light coming in from outside was dim. I could hear voices, faint yet distinct, and as I lay there, I realized I was hearing Frank and Faun talking together on the patio outside the room where she’d gone to lie down.

“So you’ve picked tonight to announce your engagement,” I heard Faun say.

“We’re not going to announce it formally,” Frank replied.

“I know, don’t tell me—you’re going to wrap little messages around flaming arrows and shoot them at all the guests.”

“That’d be one way, I suppose. Don’t you at least want to wish me and your mother happiness?”

“If I wish you something, it won’t be happiness.”

“That’s too bad. What will it be?”

“I’ll think of something.”

“I’m glad you’re here anyway; Belinda will be, too.”

“Why do people always have the idea my mother is ever happy to see me?”

Frank’s voice was showing his impatience. “Look, I’m sorry you and your friend broke up, but I can’t really do anything about that, can I? And to tell you the truth, I don’t think the prince was your type.”

“I know he wasn’t. I wouldn’t have married him anyway. Especially when I’m in love with someone else.”

“Yes? Are you?”

“You know I am. Didn’t I say it? I’m in love with you.”

“Come on, Faun,” he begged, “please don’t start in again.”

“I’m not going to start in. But I want you to know it—before you make a terrible mistake. I want to live with you. Not with Mummy and you, just you and me. Didn’t anyone ever tell you three’s a crowd?”

“I’m sorry, I’d hoped we could be a family, the three of us. Your mother and I were both hoping someday the right guy might come along—”

“Are you cartooning? No right guy’s going to come along, nobody. If he did, I wouldn’t have him on a bet. It’s you or nothing.”

I could hear the disconsolate tone in Frank’s voice as he spoke again. “Faun, you’re a grown woman, you’ve got to stand on your own feet, you can’t go on being a child forever.”

“Didn’t I say it? I don’t want you to marry her.” Faun’s voice had begun to sound frantic. “Don’t you know she’ll only make trouble for you? She’ll make you miserable, she doesn’t understand you.”

“All right, maybe we’d better not say any more about it. Excuse me.” His feet sounded on the flagging and there wasn’t any more talk, only Faun’s sobs. I threw on a robe and went out. She was sprawled on a chaise, crying her heart out. Pretending I hadn’t heard any of the conversation with Frank, I suggested that, since it was getting late and her mother would be expecting her at Angie’s, she’d better go. She didn’t argue, but left as I suggested.

Everybody in the world knew that Millie and Felix Pass threw the greatest parties in the world, and their yearly anniversary celebration had become close to an institution in the Springs; people flew in from places as far away as Chicago, Palm Beach, and New York to attend. The press was banned; this was a strictly private affair. No expense was spared, no detail overlooked. The ladies received gold pins with crossed golf clubs for favors, the men got key rings with their astrological signs. There must have been fifty waiters in green jackets, more parking boys outside. The music seldom stopped; two dance bands alternated on the stand, Latin and standard; the ceiling of the big striped circus tent was a floating cloud of pink balloons; the buffet, bracketed by towering ice sculptures of the host and hostess, was a feast, and when I passed the bar table I saw a pile of champagne bottles three feet high in the corner.

Since she hardly ever attended large gatherings, it was a mark of Maude’s esteem and affection for her friends that she would have turned up for the big night. But there she was, in full fig and fine fettle, apparently having the time of her life. Soon after we’d greeted her, she urged Angie and me to get out there and dance, have a good time. I was in a mood for partying, and so we joined the other swingers on the floor. Angie reminded me she’d once won a rhumba contest, and showed she’d lost none of her old form. After Angie, I danced with Belinda, then with Millie, then with a series of other partners. But between dances both Angie and I made sure we spent a good part of our evening with Maude, no chore, believe me. It was after ten and there she sat, holding court at the table of honor. There were many who insisted on stopping by for a word, a smile from her. “Just wanted you to know we remember you,” things like that. She was patient and polite to all.

One of the best rewards of that night’s festivities was watching Frank and Belinda together. Nothing will ever erase the picture of those two moving together about the tent, from group to group, and you had the feeling the party was really in
their
honor, not Felix’s and Millie’s. At one point I saw them out on the dance floor; she was in his arms while he glided her with tricky footwork around and among the other dancers, his arm around her back, she looking up at him, her hair falling past her eye in that style I’d always liked, she smiling at him as he talked in her ear, the pair of them laughing at his joke. She was carrying a little gold mesh bag in her hand and she tapped his shoulder with it as if to say, “Aren’t you terrible?” At that moment his lips touched her temple and she shut her eyes and they melted away into the crowd, dancing in a dream, and I knew the dream was taking place not down here in a rented tent but way up there among the stars, between Clouds Nine and Twelve.

I felt Angie’s squeeze on my fingers, and when I looked around, her glance said to get a load of Maude. I slid her a look and saw on her face the sweetest expression imaginable as she went on watching Frank and Belinda, now in the center of the crowd, and when she caught my eye she winked. That’s all, winked, but what that wink said to us.

“Maude, Chazz is dying to dance with you,” Angie said, elbowing me to my feet. I didn’t have to be told twice. I got Maude up and out on the floor and took her in my arms. As we danced, I felt many eyes on us, felt a wave of approval and affection surrounding us, and when flashbulbs began popping she gave me a tiny squeeze of nervousness, then turned on her most radiant smile, as if to say it was all part of the game. Maude was yet a star.

When we sat down again, it was at Vi’s table. Sure, Viola was there: she’d had friends drive her down, she’d never miss an event like this. She patted the empty seat beside her and when I joined her she wanted to hear everything I’d heard from Faun about the business at Acapulco. As if on cue, Faun herself appeared, wearing something long that showed all the right bare places. She was acting as if nothing were wrong. “Hello, Auntie Vi,” she said, then leaned to kiss my cheek. Why was she being so nice, I wondered? I thought she’d be either drunk or stoned. Giving Vi and Maude the high sign, I invited her to dance. She followed well and seemed full of life, enjoying herself like any normal young woman at a dance. I had to hand it to her: she had her mother’s spunk. I knew how badly she must be feeling the sting of rejection, and frankly, I’d been wondering why she’d bothered coming at all, since she clearly wasn’t in a partying mood, nor had she sought her mother’s or grandmother’s sympathy. Every time I caught sight of her, either alone or with others, I had the feeling that she’d riveted her eyes on Frank and Belinda, as if their being together tonight were exerting some strange force on her. Then something happened that led me to believe I wasn’t imagining things.