All the Stars in the Heavens (24 page)

Gable laughed. “Everything.” He took the saw from her and cut another block from the field.

“You make it look easy,” she said as he sawed another square.

“You know I haven't tried to kiss you since your birthday.”

“I noticed.”

“Do you want me to?”

“Not really.”

“Is that a yes or a no?”

“It's a ‘not really.' A soft no.”

Gable shook his head. “I don't know any girls like you.”

“What a compliment.”

“Now you know how I feel.” He lifted one handle on the tub and indicated that she should lift the other. Together they hoisted the tub, and the load was instantly easy to carry.

“If I get a choice with a man, I would always rather be friends.”

“Why is that?”

“It lasts.”

“Romance can last,” he said. “You have to give it a chance.”

“With who?”

“Maybe with me.”

“Where's the flashlight?” Loretta asked.

“Why?”

“Shine the light on my face.”

Gable and Loretta placed the tub down in the field. He shone the light on her face. She rolled her eyes.

Gable laughed. “In silent movies that was called the kiss-off.”

“And there's your answer.” Loretta laughed and ran ahead, leaving him to carry the tub of snow. He called after her, but she kept going, leaping through the drifts like a doe.

Suddenly, Loretta was smothered in fur. Gripped by two giant paws, she fell into the snow. At first she was afraid; the attack had come out of nowhere. But the familiar scent of bitter orange and pine revealed that it wasn't a brown bear or a big bad wolf, it was Gable. They began to roll in the snow.

“You're scaring me!” She laughed as they spun through the drift until he was on top of her.

“So you do feel something for me.” He grinned. He rolled off her and onto his back in the snow. They lay there, laughing. The scent of the fire pit, of cedar and smoke, carried by night winds, filled the air overhead. Clark and Loretta lay in the open field and looked up at the night sky.

“What does the sky look like to you?” she asked him.

“Heaven.”

“You don't think heaven is bright, like a morning?”

“I don't know. I think this could be it. What do you think it looks like?”

“When I was a girl, my cousin Carlene and I used to play dress-up in Mae Murray's closet.”

“No kidding.” Gable rolled over, propped himself on his elbow, and looked at her.

“Long story. Anyhow, Mae had a closet filled with gowns and shoes, and capes made of velvet and feathers. And she had these long black satin evening gloves with tiny pink pearl buttons all the way up the back. That's what the sky looks like to me.”

Gable leaned toward her and kissed her on the neck.

“Elvira needs the snow,” Loretta said.

Gable stood up and helped her to her feet.

“Where are they with the snow?” Elvira wanted to know.

“On their way,” Alda said nervously. Alda watched Gable and Loretta through the window of the barn. She was now officially worried that she had misread the situation between Loretta and Gable. It looked like something was bubbling up; something deep was heading for the surface, and given enough time and the right elements, it could blow.

Loretta was covered in snow as she entered the barn. Gable swatted the snow off her coat as she stamped her feet to remove the snow from her boots.

“Did you fall off the mountain?” Elvira clucked.

“I was attacked by a wild animal.”

“Nothing you can't handle,” Elvira said.

Loretta and Gable looked at one another and laughed.

“Come over here and help me make the cream. Those boys are howling for dessert out there.”

Alda scooped four cups of white sugar into a large ceramic bowl as Loretta cracked four eggs over the sugar. Elvira whisked the
mixture. Alda drizzled vanilla extract into the mixture. Slowly Loretta poured six cups of fresh cream into the sugar, followed by two cups of condensed milk, as Elvira all the while whisked.

“That's it,” Elvira said. “It's ready to hit the snow.”

Gable lifted the bowl and brought it outside, pouring it over the tub of snow.

Elvira mixed the sweet, creamy mixture through the snow with a large spoon. “Mr. Gable, you're such a know-it-all, take a taste.” Elvira fed Gable a taste of the snow cream.

“It's good, Elvira.”

“All right! Grab the tub. Girls, fetch the waffles. Follow me to the fire pit.”

The crew gathered around as Elvira, Alda, and Loretta formed an assembly line to make snow cream cones. Loretta and Alda took the delicate waffles and folded them into triangles as Elvira filled them with snow cream.

Luca pulled the cork from a bottle of Fra Angelico and went around the bench of the fire pit, drizzling the liqueur on the cones.

“Does everything around here have to have booze in it?” Elvira complained.

“Yes, Miss Elvira. And when they figure out how to make soap out of it, we'll bathe in it too,” Gable said.

The company cheered.

Loretta handed a cone to Luca. Alda looked away. Loretta looked up at Gable, who caught the exchange.

Gable sat next to Luca on the ice bench.

“You're still in the doghouse?”

“Yep,” Luca admitted.

“Did you write her a letter?”

“Yep. She hasn't budged. Assuming she even read it. I bet it went straight into the fireplace. All that's left of my heart's desire are little black feathers in a big black flume.”

“You have to be persistent.”

“She hasn't given me any hope at all.”

“She's hurt.”

“I know that. And it pains me.” Luca watched Alda as she walked back to the barn with Elvira. Loretta sat down next to Gable and Luca.

“Mr. Gable, you know how to find good snow,” Loretta said before taking a bite of the snow cream cone.

“Thank you, Miss Young.”

“Luca, what's the status?”

“Not great,” Gable answered for him.

“You have to keep trying,” Loretta advised Luca.

“That's what he says.” Luca pointed to Clark. “I tried all his methods. Letters. Calls. I hang around to talk to her. She walks by me as though I'm not there. She's a real ice princess, that one.”

“But she isn't,” Loretta assured him. “She's heartbroken.”

“You're making the mug feel worse,” Gable said.

Loretta handed Gable her ice cream cone to finish. “How long did it take you to realize that you hurt her?”

“I knew the minute the words were out of my mouth.”

“You should tell her that you were impulsive, and realized that you hurt her immediately—that you don't really believe the things you said to her.”

“She's not buying it.”

“Maybe Mr. Gable has some advice for you. He's been married eleven, twelve times or so. Clark, impart some wisdom here.”

“I ought to smash this cone in your face,” Gable said sweetly.

“I blew it. It's over,” Luca said.

Loretta patted Luca's knee. “Well, you still have a shot at Elvira.”

“You're not helping.” Gable nudged her.

Loretta turned to Luca. “Alda was almost a nun—she spent most of her youth in the convent. There's still a lot of that in her. She likes order and rules. Give her some. Lay down the rules of your relationship and make her understand how things will be going forward.”

“Starting with keeping your trap shut,” Gable added.

“It's going to take her some time to help Elvira straighten up the kitchen. I bet for the rest of that bottle of Fra Angelico you could bribe Elvira to go home early—and you and Alda will have time together.”

Luca took in Loretta's advice. He looked toward the barn, where the kitchen lights blazed in beams out onto the snow. “Okay. I'll try.”

Gable held out his cone. “One more hit before you go.”

Luca doused the cone with booze. He placed the stopper back in the bottle and trudged across the field to the barn.

The crew had mostly gone back inside the inn for their late-night card games. Loretta scooted close to Gable by the fire pit.

“That was pretty good, Gretch,” he said, putting his arm around her.

“I'm always better with other people's problems.” Loretta always felt warm and safe when Gable had his arms around her.

“You have problems?” Gable teased her.

“None at the moment.”

“That's good to know. I wouldn't want be a problem to you.”

“You're only a problem when you wrestle me to the ground in that coat.”

“You like this coat? Flier Furs. Olympic Boulevard. Los Angeles U.S.A. Made to order.”

“Did your wife buy it for you?”

Gable looked around, pulled Loretta close, and squeezed her tight. “Why do you bring her up every chance you get?”

“I'm a smart aleck.”

“I'll say. You got crust.”

“I'm sorry,” she said.

“You mean it?”

“From the bottom of my black heart.”

“If you weren't so cute, I'd wring your neck. Tell me something. Why'd you take this movie?”

“The script, of course.”

“Just the script?”

“I didn't take it because of you. I didn't know you.”

“How am I doing?”

“All right. When it comes to the movies, I try to choose a mystery, a weepie, a family comedy, and one classic every year. Sometimes I hit it, sometimes I don't.”

“I do whatever my agent tells me.”

“Then you'd better have a brilliant agent,” Loretta said.

“Minna's all right.”

“I hear she's lovely.”

“What's your plan after we wrap?”

“To get off this mountain in one piece and go home where it's warm.”

“I meant your career plans.”

“Just try to do good work.”

“Is there a part you're dying to play?”

“Always. And it usually goes to Bette Davis or Myrna Loy.”

“Bette's the gold standard,” Gable said.

“I'll say. And Myrna is a treasure. She's like a box of emeralds.”

“I like them both. What leading men do you like?”

“I've been lucky.”

“Nobody better than Spencer Tracy,” Gable admitted. “I'm going to do a picture with him.”

“He's good,” Loretta said softly.

“I'm not prying.”

“I didn't think you were. I figured you meant his acting talent.”

“I did. But I'm your friend, if you want to tell me what happened.”

“It's pretty simple. It was all feelings, and we didn't act on them.”

“No kidding.” Gable's black eyebrows shot up. He figured Loretta was more sophisticated than that. A chaste love affair? He'd have to think about that later.

“Spencer is married, and he loves his family. He's a good father.”

“When it comes to work, I don't think any of us can touch him.”

“You're just as good in a different way.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you have a very literal approach to the work. You interpret the lines as they are written, no spin on them at all. It's pretty great. Theatrical. It's obvious you come from the stage. You never change a word.”

“Why would I? If it's a good script.”

“Good point. Beyond the words, I like how you bring them to life. The way you dramatize. You charge into scenes, you take your mark, you perform to the camera, you let the black box have it like it's a lady
sitting in the first row of the orchestra. You work efficiently. Clean, I'd call it. Tracy, on the other hand, even though he comes from the theater, goes at it a different way. He keeps his performance intimate. When you're in a scene with him, he pulls you into the material. You really have to listen because he almost doesn't give you the line. Do you know what I mean?”

“He keeps it here.” Gable tapped his head.

“Yes, that's it. Neither technique is right or wrong, just different—and both get spectacular results. Look at you—you're a movie star, and Spence is on his way.”

“And you?”

“I've been doing this so long, I just hope to get a decent script. That's all. The rest, I feel I can do, given a good director and costars like you—I can make the story happen for the audience.”

“You actually consider the audience?”

“What's the point otherwise?” Loretta warmed her hands by the fire.

“I get nervous when I think of the audience.”

“You're just telling them a story.”

“I guess.”

“Just like we're talking. That's the craft. Just make it all seem real.”

The fire pit had burned down to a thin layer of glistening orange embers.

“I'm gonna turn in.” Loretta stood. “We have an early day tomorrow.”