by Lynn Patrick
“This is one of the productions Gabby had a part in,” she noted in surprise. “How sweet.”
“Well, had things turned out differently, I could have been her father.”
“Yes,” Anita agreed simply.
“Not that I don’t also take pride in Kit.” Price reached around her to withdraw yet another album. “I obtained copies of his high school and college yearbooks and then I collected these clippings when Kit was competing professionally in ballroom.” He opened the album and pointed to a page proudly. “First in the Modern and Latin division. The kid was always damn good with his feet.”
And his father had been a distant sentimentalist. “Too bad you couldn’t have told Kit how you felt years ago.”
Price nodded. “At least I’m going to tell him now.”
“Even though he snipes at you?” Anita had felt terrible when Price’s feelings had been hurt the night before.
“I won’t give up or walk away. It may take some time to get through to Kit, but I know he’s a decent man at heart. I’m going to take your advice about it never being too late. My son has always been important to me. It’s time he knew it.”
“Oh, Price.”
She touched his hand, smiling at him warmly. Beneath his cool exterior Price had always been caring, though he’d sometimes had difficulty expressing that caring openly…or without being demanding and controlling. But he was trying to change; he had changed if he was willing to try to develop a relationship with his son. Suddenly the obstacles of the past seemed to dissolve, and Anita felt closer to Price than she ever had before.
“Kit could have been your son, you know,” he pointed out. His voice was sad, his expression faraway, as if gazing back at the years of separation. “What really happened? How could we have been so stupid?”
Tears filled Anita’s eyes. She couldn’t stop them if she tried. “I don’t know.”
Price took a deep, uneven breath. “Don’t cry, Nita. We’re together right now at least.”
“But it’s been so long. And you were watching over me…us…all this time.”
“I’ve never stopped loving you.” Price kissed her cheek and sat her down on the couch. Then he wrapped his arms around her. “I only hope you never forgot me.”
“Never,” she said simply.
“We’re a couple of old fools, aren’t we?”
Anita nodded and blew her nose in a tissue. “But I guess you’re never too old to make a fool of yourself.”
And she was probably about to take another step in that same direction as she leaned over to press her lips against those of the man she loved. Price gathered her closer, deepening the kiss. She wound her arms about his neck, her heart pounding. She’d been innocent back when they’d worked together, but now she knew what loving really meant, and she wanted to experience every facet of the emotion with Price Garfield.
At last.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“ISN’T THE PACIFIC beautiful?” Anita asked breathlessly, holding hands with Price as they sat side by side on canvas beach chairs the next afternoon. “I always thought the Atlantic looked cold and gray by comparison.”
Her escort smiled. “You’re a true California girl.”
“Maybe, but nobody’s going to get me into a bikini.”
“You’re no fun.”
Anita punched his arm playfully.
“What’s this about fun?” Lucille rasped from where she was stretched out on a portable chaise.
“Price was saying I’m no fun because I opted not to wear a bikini to Jayne’s beach party,” Anita explained.
“I’m just happy you could come,” Jayne said as she stirred coals on a portable grill. “It’s nothing fancy, but I want to celebrate. I could hardly believe it when my agent called this morning and told me I got a part, small though it may be.”
Actually, Jayne would be playing a dead body in the movie for which she’d read for the ‘Jayne Hunter’ role. Anita knew the few moments on-screen couldn’t make up for the woman’s larger disappointment, but for the moment Jayne was happy.
“I don’t know if anyone will recognize me stretched out on the floor of an elevator,” she was saying. “But at least I’ll be paid scale for a week’s worth of work. I’m not proud. Making some money is good news to me.”
“You would have heard the good news yesterday if Elsie had remembered to give you the message,” Neil pointed out. “That woman’s memory is getting as bad as her hearing and eyesight.”
“Don’t give poor old Elsie a hard time,” Lucille said sharply. “She tries her best. She didn’t even wanna come along today because she was feeling poorly and figured she should cook and clean up.”
Finished arranging hot dogs and hamburgers on the grill, Jayne pushed back a lock of hair. “I told her she didn’t have to work.”
“But she’d feel terrible if she couldn’t,” Lucille said.
“We all have to adjust to our physical limitations as we grow older,” Risa commented. Decked out in a long caftan and a wide hat to protect her delicate skin, the elderly actress leaned back in her beach chair and brushed some sand off her skirt.
“Speaking of limitations, how’s Chester?” Anita asked.
“He says the new medicine’s making him feel better,” Lucille said, “but I think it’s too soon to tell. It’s gonna take a while.”
“He got out of bed and walked around this morning,” Yancy added.
Anita nodded. “That sounds promising.”
“Yeah, now if we only knew where Harvey disappeared to on Friday night, the household would be in pretty good shape,” Lucille said.
“Harvey’s been gone two nights now?” Anita asked, immediately concerned. Gabby had told her that the comedian left the club to look for his partner, but she hadn’t realized he’d been gone all this time.
“Should we drive around and search for him?” Price inquired.
“Nah, I already did that and didn’t see hide nor hair of the old coot,” Lucille told them. “I don’t think we should worry quite yet. Harvey disappeared a coupla years back, then turned up again a few days later.”
Anita shook her head. If it wasn’t one thing, it was inevitably another at Lucille’s house. At least she always seemed capable of dealing with the stress. But then Anita wondered if the constant problems made Lucille feel more alive somehow.
Jayne’s brows were furrowed as she turned the burgers. “I only hope Harvey hasn’t been mugged or something. Elderly people are often seen as targets by thieves and gangs.”
Risa sniffed and raised her aristocratic nose. “Hmph. The elderly in this society receive little respect from anyone. If you’re over sixty-five, you might as well be dead.”
“That’s an exaggeration,” Anita objected.
“But not by much,” Yancy insisted. “We live in a throwaway, youth-worshipping society. If something’s old and wrinkled, you toss it. Elders aren’t respected for their wisdom the way they are in Pueblo Indian tribes or China.”
“These days you don’t have to be sixty-five to be thrown away,” Jayne put in with a grimace. “You can be out of style at forty-five.”
“Or even thirty-five,” Risa said. “Perhaps we should all become militant and join the—what is the name of that organization?”
“The Gray Panthers,” Yancy said with a grin. “I can see it now—we’ll have the one and only chapter in Beverly Hills. That’ll get the neighbors up in arms. We’ll march and carry signs, train ourselves in kung fu and karate.”
Neil laughed. “But Risa will want a lace collar for her uniform.”
The conversation turned to more pleasant topics as Jayne dished out the food—hot dogs, hamburgers, potato salad, baked beans, fruit, celebratory sparkling wine and soft drinks.
After they’d eaten, Price and Anita took a stroll down the beach. It was a beautiful Sunday, but this particular stretch of Santa Monica oceanfront was deserted, since it was privately owned. Luckily Lucille still had connections and had called an old acq
uaintance who’d been willing to let them have a party on her property. The only people in sight were a couple of surfers fighting with the waves in the distance.
“So what’s next?” Price asked after he and Anita had walked hand in hand for a while, listening to the crash of incoming breakers. “Where do we go from here? That conversation about aging made me think about how little time we have left.”
Anita squeezed his hand reassuringly. “Don’t let it get you down. We can’t worry about tomorrow. We have to enjoy today.”
“But we can still make a few plans. I think we should get married.”
Anita’s heart skipped a beat. She could hardly believe she was nervous at the mention of marriage to Price after all these years. Instead of agreeing with him, she commented, “I thought you didn’t want to get married again. You said you were jinxed.”
He nodded. “Because I didn’t hook up with the right woman in the first place. But surely it’ll be different with you and me. We love each other and always have.” He stopped and turned toward her. “We can fly to Las Vegas this very night and visit a wedding chapel.”
Hadn’t he noticed that she hadn’t given him an answer? “One of those tacky little places?”
He seemed disappointed. “Would you rather have a fancier wedding?”
“At the very least I would want to inform my children before making a major change in my life.” If she agreed to marry him.
“Hmm. You might have a problem with Gabby. I don’t think she likes me very much. We’d do better to elope and take care of details afterward.”
Anita said nothing, thinking about Gabby as she stared down at her gritty, sand-covered feet. Her daughter had been sleeping when they left Lucille’s house, obviously having come in late again the night before. But Gabby wasn’t the real problem here. Anita herself was reluctant to make plans right away, probably because of the difficulties she’d always had with Price. Even though she loved the man, she couldn’t help being afraid.
“You can have a bag packed and we can leave right after the show at the club,” Price continued enthusiastically. “If you want, we could even stay over a night or two in Vegas to celebrate. The Wynn is supposed to be the height of luxury—”
“Hold on,” Anita interrupted. “You’re making plans before I’ve agreed to anything.”
“You don’t want to go to Las Vegas?”
“I might not even want to get married, at least not tonight. I need some time to think.”
Price’s mouth formed a straight line. “I can’t believe this—you sound the same as you did in 1954.”
“As do you. You’re still assuming things and making plans.” Anita fumed. He always had to have control.
He sighed. “How long do I have to wait for an answer?”
“A few days.” He looked so downcast that she felt guilty about not agreeing directly. “I love you, Price, and I’m fairly certain I want to marry you. Just give me some time to get used to the idea.”
“All right.” Tucking her arm inside of his, he started walking again. “I only hope you won’t let Gabby talk you out of this. But if she tries, why don’t you suggest she move to California, as well? There might be certain attractions for her out here already.”
“You mean work?”
“Or romance,” Price said smugly. “Gabby and Kit have been seeing each other, you know.”
“I realized a bond was forming, but I wasn’t sure how serious it was. Do you know more than I?”
He cleared his throat. “Enough to think they might be quite serious.”
“Good heavens! This situation is getting more and more complicated.”
“More complicated than I ever expected when I set it up.”
Anita focused on his last words. “When you did what?”
To his credit Price looked embarrassed. Then he confessed, “I suppose I might as well get it out in the open. It’s going to come out someday, anyway. I own the largest percentage of Cheek to Cheek. I suggested that Lucille contact you in New York so that Gabby and Kit could dance together. I figured you’d come along if Lucille encouraged you and we’d have another chance to get together.”
She pulled away from him. “You arranged everything?”
He appeared worried. “Please don’t get upset. I didn’t know how else we could come in contact.”
“You didn’t have to be devious or so distrustful. You can write—why didn’t you send a letter?”
“I thought you’d throw it away.”
“Then you could have hopped on a plane!” Anita said, her anger rising.
“I was afraid you would refuse to see me.” He tried to convince her. “Look, everything’s working out. We made up, Lucille has a money-making venture and Kit and Gabby are doing what they do best. What’s the harm?”
Anita couldn’t believe the man’s gall. “I thought you had changed, but you’re as manipulative and high-handed as you ever were!”
She turned and flounced away.
“Anita!” Price followed swiftly, his feet spraying sand. “Come on, we belong together. You admitted that last night. Who cares how that came to be?”
“I care,” she stated, seething now. “You know I hate being controlled and manipulated.”
“There’s no way I could ever control you.”
“But you’ll keep trying!”
Out of breath, he paused, obviously slowed by his age.
Having the advantage of a few less years and the greater stamina of anger, Anita kept marching.
“Anita!” he shouted. “Don’t do this to me again!”
“Get lost!”
He could go home and paste some more photos in his albums, a place where paper people and their lives could easily be controlled. In his son’s case, perhaps Price had always felt that was safer, anyway.
“Anita!”
Price’s voice grew fainter as she hurried on. He didn’t run to catch her, and when she turned a few minutes later, he’d disappeared.
Not knowing whether she felt relieved or disappointed, Anita wept and stared out to sea. The breakers rolling in brought back the memory of a grandiose party she’d attended with Price, the last social occasion they’d shared before he’d married and she’d fled for New York.
Odd, but the gathering had even been near this very area, at a great house that no longer existed except for its servants quarters, now the Sand and Sea Club.
She and Price had argued on the beach….
Santa Monica, 1954
“I CAN’T BELIEVE you’d be so underhanded!” Anita accused Price angrily, placing her hands on her black-satin-clad hips. “And I don’t know how you thought you’d get away with it.”
“There’s no harm done,” Price insisted. “I told Scotty it was only a joke. He’s just as happy with his new date, and you’re with me.”
“Only long enough to tell you off!”
“Anita,” Price said placatingly, taking her elbow to lead her toward the beach and away from the crowd milling around the beautiful seaside house. “You don’t want to make a scene.”
She shook him off but kept walking. “I’ll make a scene if I want to!” She stopped and faced him defiantly. “We’re going to have it out right here and now!”
“Whatever you say.”
“You really have some nerve! You’re the one who gets his own way no matter what, and I’m tired of it.”
He gazed at her longingly, his expression sad. “No, I haven’t gotten my way at all or we’d be married.”
“Don’t start with that!”
Anita was furious. Price had finally gone too far. Jealous over her publicity date for the eight-hundred-guest party, he’d had someone call Scott Murphy to tell him Anita was ill, then had had Anita phoned and informed that Scotty had broken his leg.
Offering himself as her escort instead—though he’d admitted he would have preferred having dinner with her alone—Price had been “kind” enough to take her to the event. She’d thought she would
sink right through the floor when they encountered a perfectly healthy Scotty, date in tow, and the ruse had been disclosed.
Anita stomped off along the beach again, her evening sandals already full of sand. Price matched her determined pace while, behind them, music from a live orchestra drifted from the mansion and mingled with the tinkling sounds of the full-size carousel between the servants’ quarters and the tennis courts.
Tonight glittering movie moguls and stars rubbed elbows with the wealthy elite of Los Angeles, drinking cocktails and champagne, dancing and splashing in the estate’s swimming pools, one of which was spanned by a Venetian marble footbridge. But Anita no longer felt like enjoying the spectacle.
When they’d put some distance between themselves and the party, Price finally halted, assumed a patient expression and turned toward his companion, obviously waiting for her to unleash her ire. But the walk had cooled Anita off a little, making her think about how deep and complex the problems between Price and herself really were.
The infuriating man would have to cease trying to control her—or else.
“I won’t be manipulated again,” she began. “I won’t ever marry you if you don’t stop pulling stunts like this.” She took a deep breath. “Maybe part of the problem is that we only make movies together. My agent thinks I should try one solo.”
His eyebrows shot up. “What?”
She had long feared that her popularity rested on dancing with Price, and she was considering taking her agent’s suggestion.
“We don’t have to star in the same movies. We’re two different people.”
“Who love each other…”
She could tell he was extremely upset, but she refused to become completely conciliatory. “We can still see each other while we work on our own projects. And I didn’t say I wouldn’t perform with you once in a while.”
He shook his head adamantly. “That’s not okay with me.”
“Then it’ll have to not be okay.”
“Don’t I have anything to say about this?”
Feeling a bit guilty, she explained, “I would’ve talked it out with you at a better time if you hadn’t made me so angry tonight.”
“There would never be a good time for this sort of news.” He gazed down the beach, then at her, his expression cold. “But I see what you’re getting at—you’ve used me.”