An Idol for Others (21 page)

“Oh, yes, you are,” Walter said as they all picked themselves up off the blanket.

“Thank you, dearest.” She looked at him with a secret smile. “You’re looking quite adorable in your rumpled finery and all covered with crumbs.” Walter and Clara laughed together as she brushed them off.

“You two may have forgotten, but we’re due at the theater,” David reminded them from outside the closed circle they instantly created.

The next major event was a letter from Uncle Perry. He was deeply interested in the play and wanted to discuss it with Clara’s friends. Clara warned against overoptimism; Uncle Perry’s foundation doled out grants in very small sums. There was no question of both David’s and Walter’s being absent from the theater at the same time. Clara was against David’s going alone.

“Frankly, Uncle Perry won’t like dealing with a Jew,” she told them.

“In that case, I won’t be dealing with Uncle Perry,” Walter said.

“What’ve I been telling you? Did I ever suggest it was fun dealing with my family?”

Whoring apparently assumed various guises. It was settled that Clara and he would drive up into the city one evening after rehearsals so that he could make a 10 o’clock appointment the next morning and return in time for afternoon rehearsals. He almost forgot the dinner he had promised Fay Kennicutt. He called her and arranged it for the day after the New York trip.

“Just you, or your husband too?” he asked.

“Oh, no. I thought you knew. Freddy’s rarely here during the week.” She said it in a way that made it clear she would like the company. Walter felt guilty and defensive; there was no time for Fay.

His first exposure to Clara’s family connections made him eager for more. The meeting took place in surroundings he was beginning to take for granted–rich, imposing, confidently old-fashioned. Uncle Perry’s committee had approved a grant of $1,000 for the production of
A Light in the Forest
. Clara’s uncle was so enthusiastic about the play that he hoped it wasn’t too late to invest in it himself. He was a tall, thin authoritative man, and Walter graciously admitted that his offer of $5,000 would be very helpful while he successfully suppressed a fit of the giggles. He supposed he must learn to take himself more seriously.

“I suppose you’re even more impressive than I realize,” Clara commented when they were on their way back to East Cove. “I don’t mind Perry so much. He’s connected with the foundation, and he’s not a complete philistine–only about three quarters. We’re so nearly there now. If only David would come up with a few thousand dollars. I don’t want this to turn into a Washburn circus. It’s all yours. You don’t need their kind of help.”

“Well, Perry isn’t helping in that sense. He was stunned by the play.”

“Yes, but it won’t be like that with the others. I’ll have to introduce you, and it’ll immediately become a family affair?”

“I guess I understand what you mean. Anyway, David still thinks there’s a chance the Kennicutts will put up more.”

The dinner with Fay went so well that he hadn’t a moment’s embarrassment seeing her with Clara. They seemed to like each other. Fay was delighted with the new recruit to the backer’s list. It was an easy, friendly occasion. David stopped him in front of the theater the next morning.

“I think we’ve reached a moment of decision,” he said. “If we had $4,000 more, we could get rolling. Without it, we can’t really do anything. Do we wait another couple of weeks until people are back in town and we run the risk of getting squeezed for time, or do we strike while the iron is hot?”

“I don’t get it. Is it up to me?”

David rolled his eyes. “I think it is. Once more into the breach, old pal, if you’ll forgive a classic reference. I’ve just talked to Fay. She asked me last night to call. She says if she has another talk with you, she thinks you can help her find the right thing to say to Fred so he’ll fork up the rest of the dough.”

“Oh, God, I can’t. You know what Clara would think, especially after last night. She’d want to know why Fay can’t talk to all of us.”

“It’s a thought that might occur to anybody. We could say I’m going with you, and I could drop you and wait around somewhere while you say your magic words and pick you up later. But I have a better idea. I have things I’d like Clara to take care of in the city. I’m going to ask her to go up tomorrow or the next day. She’ll need two or three days to get everything done. You see what I mean? It’s entirely up to you.”

“Oh, damn.” Walter sighed. He thought of Clara’s determination to keep the Washburns out of it. If, as she said, the production was all his, he supposed he should be ready to dedicate himself to it totally, body as well as soul. He and David looked at each with complicity. “It’s a dirty trick, but if you’re sure it’ll work, I guess we better do it.”

“All you have to do is more of whatever you’ve done already. If you will go around making us all fall in love with you, you have to take the consequences.”

Clara took the train the next day, very self-important with the errands David had entrusted to her. When she was gone, Walter called Fay and proposed coming to see her after the show that evening. He explained that Clara would be away for a day or two.

“Will you spend the night with me, darling?” she asked.

“Is that possible?”

“Oh, yes, darling. How thrilling. Don’t ring the bell, or anything. I’ll be watching for you. You can’t make it sooner?”

“No, I have to watch the show.” He had learned his lesson. He would scrupulously follow routine in case Clara had spies. Nobody would know where he went after the show. Fortunately, the Peabodys hadn’t put a telephone into the cottage, so there was no way of Clara’s trying to reach him. He resented Fay for forcing him to take all these details into consideration until he realized that she wasn’t forcing anything. It was David’s idea, and he was carrying it out.

The massive nail-studded door of the Kennicutt mansion opened magically as he approached it. Fay stood beside it to let him in and closed it behind him and took possession of him in her usual familiar way, slipping her arm under his and drawing him close. She was at her most chic, made-up, carefully coiffed, wearing a dressing gown of such style and so beautifully cut that it almost could have passed as an evening dress except that she was clearly naked under it.

“What a marvelous idea, darling,” she said, keeping her voice low. “I thought you might pop in at noon like before. Let’s go up. There’s nobody about, but still …” She directed him toward baronial stairs and started up. “I suppose David gave you the impression that I was making a condition of seeing you before I’d talk to Freddy again. I put it like that in case you needed an excuse to come. I have every intention of speaking to Freddy anyway. When he hears Perry Washburn is in with us, there’ll be no problem. Wasn’t I good the other night?”

“You were perfect.”

“I wanted you to see what a well-behaved mistress I can be. That’s important if I’m to be the mother of your child.”

“Now that you mention it, I suppose it is. When will you know?”

“In a few weeks, I should think. I’m awfully vague about exactly how those things work.” They mounted to a wide hall and followed it to an open door at the end and entered a big room that was handsomely furnished as bedroom and living room. There was nothing conspicuously feminine about it except for a very feminine dressing table. Masses of flowers were everywhere. She closed the door, locked it, and turned to him.

“There, darling,” she said, resuming her normal voice. She put her hands under his jacket on his chest and moved her fingers against his shirt. “I feel very sinful having you here, waiting to get into a real bed with you, waking up with a beautiful naked man beside me. I hope we make it as sinful as possible. Here, let me have your jacket.” He slipped it off, and she took it to a closet and hung it up. “Sit here,” she said, leading him to a big armchair. “Do you want a drink? Have a glass of champagne with me.” She went to a desk where there was a tray of glasses and bottles. An open bottle of wine was in an ice bucket.

He was tired, and her solicitude made him pleasantly drowsy. Thinking of her as the potential mother of his child made him confident of his abilities as a lover. She had as good as said that their money worries were over, but he was here to make sure. She returned to him with two glasses and perched on the arm of his chair.

“Nobody’s ever taken such good care of me,” he said, lazily taking a sip of his win.

“That’s because you’re such a lovely son and lover. Pardon me, Mr. Lawrence.” She drank off half her wine and put the glass on the table at his side. She ran a hand over his hair. “I’m still absurdly infatuated. I hadn’t intended to be. When I’ve wanted a man in the past, once or twice was sufficient. I wonder why it isn’t like that with you. I’ve wondered quite a lot about it. Your looks, of course, and the way you’re built. I probably shouldn’t admit it, but that’s a big part of it.” She laughed as she unfastened his tie. “A big part, indeed. If I’d known other men somewhat similar, perhaps I wouldn’t be so thrilled by it. I know I can’t have it often, but will you go on letting me have it from time to time?” She unbuttoned his collar and put both her hands around his neck.

He covered them with his hands and chuckled. “What a peculiar conversation. I told you I’m not a complete whore. I want you to put more money in the show, but I’m honestly more interested in you as the mother of my child. If that happens, I’ll want to see you probably more often than I’ll be able to.”

“Then that’s settled–show and child. I do like to do what you tell me to.” She unbuttoned his shirt and moved her hand lingeringly over his chest and into his armpits and down to the waistband of his trousers. “What a beautiful package for me to unwrap.” She unbuckled his belt and opened his fly and spread her hand out flat on his belly. He shifted in the chair to make himself more available to her. She moved her hand down into his trousers and found his hard flesh and drew it out. It swung up against his belly. “My word. I’ve never seen anything so outrageously sexy. A great beautiful boy, all undone and half naked, and that, rearing up out of your pants.”

He put down his glass and gave her hand a pat and leaned forward and unfastened his shoes. He pulled off his socks and shed clothes as he rose. She stood and let her dressing gown fall open as she moved in close to him. Her hands were on him, and she followed them with her eyes.

“When I see you naked and all ready to take me, I can hardly believe my luck. I want to do all sorts of disgraceful things with this. Put it in me quickly, darling. I don’t want to let it become too much of an obsession.”

He was asleep almost before his orgasm had ended. He awoke to find her eyes on him, and he moved in over her again. As he did so, he was aware somewhere in his half-waking mind of how restful sex was when it was simple and natural. Clara made a point of washing a great deal. If only she’d agree to have children.

“Good morning, darling,” Fay said against his ear.

“Is it morning?”

“Very early. I’ve been waiting for it to be in me again. I know it awfully well now. I’ve been looking at it all night. It stays so hard. Did you know that?”

“All night?”

“Yes, when you were all sprawled out on your back so I could play with it to my heart’s content.”

“I think I’ll be able to get back tonight if you want.”

“Please do, darling. And you and David can see Freddy again on Sunday, and you’ll have all the money you need for your show.”

“You’re a very well-behaved mistress.”

During the next two days, he felt at times as if Fay were his comfortable, motherly wife, making a family, and Clara his mistress, fierce and passionate. When she returned, full of all she had accomplished in the city, she didn’t seem surprised to find that financing for the production had been completed.

“I knew when Fay had dinner with us that she’d talk her husband into putting up more,” she said. “Money attracts money. You see? You don’t need Washburns. You’re going to be rich and famous and successful all on your own.”

By the time Fred confirmed Fay’s promise, Walter was starting rehearsals for the last play of the season; he and Clara would be gone in a week. David had an uncle with a novelties business who had spare office space in the theater district. The rent was minimal, and they took it sight unseen. Makin-Fiedler Productions had acquired a geographical identity. David arranged for a telephone to be put in and ordered stationery printed.

David saw them off at the station. They were all conscious that a chapter of their lives was ending. Walter would probably never work here again. Even if
A Light in the Forest
were a total disaster, his status would have changed. Perhaps he would find a summer theater of his own to run.

As soon as they had disposed of their luggage, they moved into the office like children taking over a toy shop. It was a grubby cubicle in a building on West 47th Street. There was room for one desk, a couple of chairs, and a filing cabinet full of somebody’s papers. The one window revealed a blank wall a few feet away. The door was partially obstructed by a water cooler. The telephone was there. Several large bundles of stationery had been delivered.

“It’s so absolutely, marvelously awful,” Clara said with glee. “I hope you’re making notes for your autobiography, dearest. This is just right for a sensational debut.” She picked up the telephone and called the
Times
drama editor and announced the imminent production of a distinguished French play by a newly formed company. “There,” she said, settling down behind the desk with a brisk executive air. “That’ll bring every actor in town to our doorstep.”

She called Johnny Bainbridge, and he soon joined them, a sobering presence–but looking a little less worn than he had two months earlier. He accepted the news that they actually hoped to have the play in rehearsal within three weeks with satisfaction but expressed no astonishment at what seemed to Walter and Clara an almost incredible achievement. They worked out a schedule of interviews with the actors Walter had already selected so that Johnny could pass on them.