“It’s about Coco Chanel, and it’s called Coco in Love. It’s romantic and rather touching, and it has a lot of meat to it. It’s a period piece. At the beginning of her career, Chanel fell in love with a handsome young Englishman called “Boy” Capel, who supported her before she became well known. He was very much in love with her and wanted to marry her, but Chanel refused. She insisted she had to repay the money she owed him before she could marry him. Anyway, he eventually married an English aristocrat, and according to the script, he broke her heart by doing so. He died in 1919, which is when the film ends.”
“And you’re playing ‘Boy’ Capel,” James said, making it more of a statement than a question.
“I am indeed, and looking forward to it.”
At this moment Geo and M took off their aprons and came to join them. “How about a jugful of Dom Pérignon?” Geo said, coming to stand next to James. “All this cooking has made me thirsty.”
“Coming right up, and one for you, too, I hope, M?” James said, turning to her, smiling warmly.
“Yes indeed, I’m parched. Thanks, James.”
Once the two women had silver tankards in their hands, James said, “Can I now prevail upon you both to come and sit down in the den for a few minutes, in order to cool off. I find it quite warm in here.”
Geo laughed. “It is when the oven’s going, but you might feel better if you took off your heavy sweater, and you, too, Larry.”
Both men laughed and did as she suggested, and the three of them trooped into the den across the hall, following M, who was exclaiming, “Let’s make our plans for Paris. Decide what the four of us are going to do on New Year’s Eve.”
James soon realized this wasn’t a very restful period in the den for the two women. They were forever running to the kitchen to check on the turkey, the sweet potatoes, and all of the other dishes they were making. And so he finally stood up himself and said to Geo, “Let’s all go and join M in the kitchen, shall we? I think that will make life easier for the two of you.”
“Agreed,” Geo exclaimed, pushed herself to her feet, picked up the silver tankard, and left the den.
The two men walked after her, and as they went into the kitchen, James turned to Larry and said, “Let’s park ourselves here at the counter, where we’re out of their way.” He sat down on one of the barstools and took a long swallow of champagne.
James, who had been studying Larry surreptitiously for a few minutes, suddenly said, “You’re looking awfully pensive. Is everything all right, old chap?”
“Sure, sure, I’m fine. I was thinking about you, actually.” Larry grinned at him. “I just can’t imagine you as Double O Seven.”
“That’s because I don’t look like Sean Connery, Roger Moore, or Pierce Brosnan,” James shot back, a faint smile playing around his mouth.
“Ah, but you do have a hint of Daniel Craig about you, James, my boy. He’s the new Bond, in Casino Royale. He got raves.”
“I expect he’s lean, wiry, and fair-haired,” James remarked, a sandy-colored brow lifting.
“Indeed he is, and he’s going to be the fair-haired boy of Barbara Broccoli, the producer, I can tell you that. The movie’s going to make big money.”
Larry sat back, watching James walk to the end of the kitchen, pleased that he was becoming a good friend. There was something stalwart about James Cardigan. He was trustworthy, Larry felt certain of this. A quiet man, with a lot of depth and inner strength.
The two men continued to sit at the counter, occasionally chatting, sometimes falling silent, but they were at ease with each other, and relaxed. Suddenly Larry leaned closer. “Silver Hill was such a good experience for me. I’m glad I went, and I wouldn’t have done so if Matt Branden hadn’t advised me to check myself in. So thanks again for Branden. He’s a very clever doctor. Anyway, I learned a lot about myself, my problems with my brother, and why I react to him the way I do. According to the psychiatrist there, Dr. William Fowler, I revert to my childhood role when Edward starts hounding me, become the little-boy victim. I really responded to Dr. Fowler, and I feel better than I have for a long time.”
James, pleased that Larry had confided in him a little, nodded his understanding.
“I’ll never be like that again,” Larry added. “I have M to consider. . . . I would never want to scare her like I did when I got back from Canada. Not ever.”
“She’ll keep you on the straight and narrow, no doubt in my mind about that!” James chuckled. “She’s a bit of a Margaret Thatcher at times, don’t you think?”
“Very bossy, she is, my bit of trouble and strife.”
Twenty-seven
The bride did not wear a white wool suit with a white fur as originally planned. Nor did she carry a posy of white winter roses. It didn’t even snow. But it was a beautiful day, cold but sunny, with a pale blue sky that echoed the color of her Tremont coat and matching pillbox hat.
The groom was smart in a dark blue suit, pale blue silk tie to match her coat, and dark overcoat, which matched his dark glasses.
They were the best-looking couple in the line at City Hall. Several people glanced at them curiously, but they paid no attention, just stood quietly together, holding hands and waiting their turn. When it finally came, they were asked to fill in papers, to date and sign them, which they did. When they handed their sets of papers back to the clerk, they were told they were now a married couple.
They were still holding hands as they left City Hall and hurried to the car which was waiting for them. They were laughing hilariously, and Larry said, “That was as easy as renewing my driver’s license. And hardly a ceremony.”
“Oh, who cares!” M answered and flashed him her cheeky smile. “Gosh, I’m now Mrs. Laurence Vaughan!”
“You are indeed, and don’t ever think you’ll be anybody else’s missus either, because you won’t. This is for life.”
“You can bet on that,” M shot back, squeezing his hand.
Once they were inside the car and the driver was pulling away from the curb, Larry brought out a wedding ring; taking hold of her left hand, he slipped off the sapphire, put on the plain gold band, replaced the engagement ring, and kissed her cheek. “There we are! It’s all legal and proper, my rings are on your finger, and we’re well and truly married, my girl. My very best darling girl.”
She threw her arms around him, hugged him tightly. “I am your girl, and you’re my boy, and I’ve never been so happy, not ever . . . Larry. Today we’re starting a new life, our life together. I think it’s wonderful.”
“So do I. And now I’m taking you to lunch at La Grenouille to celebrate.”
“That’s a nice surprise, you didn’t tell me.” M gave him a huge smile and asked quietly, “It is just the two of us, though, isn’t it? You haven’t invited anyone, have you?”
“Of course not,” he answered, put his arm around her shoulders, and held her close to him. All he wanted was her. Forever. She made his life complete, was his reason for living. He thought he was the luckiest man on earth. He counted his many blessings, of which she was the best of all.
On their way uptown to the restaurant, M fell into her private thoughts. In particular, her mother and father were on her mind, and she had to admit that in a sense she had cheated them by marrying in secret. She felt a little sad about that. It had always been her mother’s dream to have a big family wedding for her, since she was the youngest daughter, and now that would never be.
Neither she nor Larry had wanted a splashy marriage. But perhaps later, in the coming year, there could be a small ceremony at her parents’ home, just for the two families, with a little reception afterward. If Larry would agree, and she felt sure he would if she wanted it to happen.
Quite suddenly she wished her mother and her sisters had been with her today, and for all of the sentimental reasons she had grown up with, all the English traditions which were upheld within their family. They were a family who had always shared things, done things together, a
nd they enjoyed being with one another; there was great camaraderie and love among them. Never mind, she thought, looked down at her left hand, and smiled inwardly.
She was married to Laurence Vaughan, the hero of her childhood. Whoever would have thought that this would come to pass? Certainly not she herself. It seemed quite extraordinary. But then everything had been extraordinary in the last few weeks.
After those first frustrating months of waiting, hoping, tramping around the agencies, and working at the cheesecake café, she had finally stumbled into her first big break. Almost by accident. Was it randomness or destiny? She didn’t know. But it was thanks to Geo, Frankie, and Luke Hendricks, who had carried the ball forward. It was his incredible photographs shown as huge blowups which had sealed the deal with the French designer in her opinion. And so suddenly. She was on her way to becoming a supermodel. And she was also a married woman. Mrs. Laurence Vaughan. She had to pinch her arm from time to time, to remind herself she was not dreaming. This was her life.
Unexpectedly, she thought of her elder brother, who constantly claimed that Lady Luck played an integral role in everybody’s journey to success. He was right. It seemed to her that Lady Luck had been with her of late.
When she had come to New York to reinvent herself, she had been a little apprehensive, and she wondered what would have happened if it had been another man she had met and become involved with and not Larry. Nothing would have happened. She knew that only too well. Somewhat traumatized, she would have been on her guard, holding back, unable to take the relationship forward. But Laurence Vaughan was known to her, a man she had idolized since childhood. And so she had not been afraid of him . . . and had relaxed because of his tenderness and caring, his genuine love for her. She was safe with Larry, and she had known that from the first. She would always be safe with him.
“I want you to stand as still as you possibly can, M,” Luke Hendricks said and then glanced across at Caresse hovering near the doorway to reception. “Please come and help, Caresse. Fix the edge of the dress, there at the bottom.” He pointed and added, “The hem seems a bit bunched up. I want it straight, and skimming the floor.”
“Right away!” Caresse did as he asked, then remained on her knees, looking at the entire dress, making sure the hem was perfect on all sides.
Kate Morrell came to join her, walked slowly around M, nodding, then told her, “You look superb, M, and the dress is magnificent on you.”
“Thanks.” M gave her a faint smile. “When are you putting the lace veil on me?”
“In a few minutes. Luke’s going to get some shots of the gown without the veil first. And we’re waiting for the team from the magazine.”
“Okay,” M said and pushed her elbows back to stretch her shoulders but did not move otherwise.
Kate thought that this haute couture wedding gown was one of the most spectacular pieces Jean-Louis Tremont had ever designed. It resembled a ball gown with its huge bouffant skirt and strapless bodice above a narrow waist. The white silk taffeta hung beautifully from the waist; the bouffancy of the gown was created by underskirts of white silk net. The strapless bodice was decorated on the front with a fan-shaped piece of finely pleated white taffeta, and it gave just the right finishing touch.
Because of her height and slenderness, M carried the gown well, and as he began to shoot, Luke said, “Stay perfectly still, honey! Let me do the moving around today. Hey, I love that smile, M, keep it! Hold it. Move your shoulders slightly, just a hint, hey, right on, kid. That’s great. Twist your waist, face me. Great!”
After fifteen minutes Luke stopped shooting, put down the camera, and said, “If you’re stiff or getting a cramp, why don’t you move within that boundary I showed you? Just don’t take too many steps, okay?”
“I’m fine, I really am, Luke, thanks anyway.”
Caresse had left the studio, and she now returned from reception with the fashion editor of Harper’s Bazaar and her assistant. The moment the two young women set eyes on M, they looked at each other, smiled, and clapped their hands. M waved, smiled back at them.
Kate went over to greet them, and they stood chatting together; after a few moments the women crossed to say hello to M and Luke, and then they retreated to the back of the room, sat down next to Kate.
The shoot continued for another half hour, and then Luke asked Kate to bring the net-and-lace veil; the two women helped her place it on the top of M’s head, slightly to the back. Her hair had been swept up into a marvelously chic chignon by Agnes, and at the front, just above her bangs, the hair had been smoothed into a flat coil. It was just behind this coil that the women fastened the rosette attached to the veil.
It took them a few minutes to arrange the long veil over M’s shoulders, so that it floated down her back and around her feet, but eventually they were satisfied it was perfectly arranged and went back to their chairs.
A few times Caresse peeped in around the door and smiled to herself when she saw Luke leaping about, circling M, whom he needed to be absolutely stationary. He suddenly reminded her of Frankie, who’d been a real prancer. He had always insisted the models remain in the same place. “I’ll do the walking and the jumping,” he used to tell them. “You do the smiling and the posing.” It seemed that Luke was following suit today, but then he had no choice. He had to work this way with this gown. Closing the door, Caresse went back to the reception area to wait for Howard Dart and his client, who’d insisted on coming to see her. She had tried to dissuade Howard but to no avail.
At the behest of Kate and the magazine, Luke shot both color and black-and-white film. He stopped occasionally to move a light or turn one off, and he worked alone, which he much preferred on certain shoots. Finally, at the end of three hours, he walked over to M and said quietly, “Thank you, honey, you’ve been fantastic, and I know the shots will be super. You look fabulous. I’ll get Marguerite to come out and pat your face. I don’t need Agnes, though, your updo’s marvelous, not a hair out of place.”
M threw him a cheeky smile and said swiftly, “I shouldn’t think there is, Luke, I haven’t moved an inch.”
He laughed. “I think the veil should come off. And when Marguerite’s touched you up, I’m going to do the final shots. Let me reload some of the cameras, and once I’m ready to start I’ll tell you. It’s then, and only then, that I want you to walk toward me. I want your head held high, in that elegant way you have, and your back straighter than you’ve ever made it. This gown is so impeccably cut and tailored it would stand on its own. So just move forward, don’t think about the gown, it’ll be perfect.”
Once Marguerite had flicked a brush over M’s face and renewed her lipstick, Kate went over to M and unpinned the veil, carefully carried it away.
When Luke was ready, his camera focused, he said, “Okay, M, start walking, very slowly, small steps, come toward me. Don’t look down at the dress! It’s fine, it’s skimming the floor beautifully. Come on, slowly, smile, M. Give me that gorgeous smile of yours. Now, slowly turn. Oh, God, that’s great! This is it, M, you’ve got it. Turn again, slowly. Now do a swirl. I promise you the gown will move with you and without . . . flinching.”
At four o’clock the shoot was finished. Kate, Agnes, and Marguerite helped M to get out of the gown, and several minutes later she was sitting down, relaxing in her comfortable uniform of black trousers and sweater. Taking deep breaths, she sipped a glass of water; finally looking across at Kate, she asked, “Do you think it went well? Was I all right?”
Kate looked back at her for the longest moment before a huge smile spread itself across her face. “Not well, superbly, M. You were just out of this world. God knows how you managed to stand so still for so long, but you did it.”
“Discipline,” Agnes announced. “M’s the most disciplined model I’ve ever worked with, disciplined person, I should add.”
“Oh, Agnes, you’re so sweet to say that, but I’m not really,” M said, laughing, and stood up. “I’ll be back in a moment.
I want to give this to Caresse before I forget.”
As she hurried through the studio making for the door, M heard a male voice and hesitated for a moment before going into reception. Then she recognized it as the lawyer’s. Howard Dart. Suddenly anxious for Caresse, wondering if she needed moral support, M pushed open the door.
Howard Dart was standing in the reception area with another man, but they both looked as if they were on the verge of leaving, were already wearing their overcoats. Ignoring them, M stepped over to Caresse’s desk and placed the envelope in front of her. “I believe you wanted this,” she murmured, smiled at Caresse, and raised a brow questioningly, silently indicating her worry.
Caresse smiled confidently, wanting to reassure M, and looked across at the two men. “Thanks for coming in, but as I told you on the phone, Howard, Alex and I are keeping the studios. I also explained that Luke’s becoming our partner. The three of us are now running it.” She shrugged. “That’s it.”
Howard said, “Have it your way, Caresse. But I think you’ve made a mistake. If you change your mind, or get into trouble, let me know.”
“We’ll be available,” the other man said in a clipped tone.
M swung around to look at them.
Both men stared at her intently. Howard inclined his head, then followed his client through the door.
Staring at Caresse, M said, “Who’s the other man? Howard’s client?”
“That’s right. His name’s S. Herbert Samson; he’s a property developer. And he sure was anxious to buy the studios. But their offer was lousy, and the guy is a bully. And so is that sleazeball Howard Dart. What’s in the envelope, M?”
“My address in Paris, and various telephone numbers I want you to have.”
“But we’re having lunch tomorrow.”
“We are indeed, a festive lunch to celebrate everything. And so I’m getting rid of my bits of business today. It’s fun for me from now on, until I start working for Jean-Louis in Paris.”
Breaking the Rules Page 21