Stars Over Sunset Boulevard

by Susan Meissner

  Fury raged inside Audrey’s chest and pounded against her ribs. “You’ve never wanted me to love her and you didn’t want her loving me. I’ve played by your rules, Violet. For twenty long years I’ve played by your rules. And now you accuse me of being unfair? She was the only beautiful thing I’ve ever managed to create with my life, and you won’t even let me stand back and admire her.”

  Violet opened her mouth to respond but there was suddenly a third voice in the room.

  “How could you do this?”

  The voice was Lainey’s. The question—Audrey did not know to whom it was directed. Lainey stood at the doorway behind them, her face pale with shock and anger.

  “Oh, God!” Violet whispered.

  “Lainey—,” Audrey began, but she turned from them and left the open doorway.

  “Wait! Lainey!” Violet wailed as she sprang from the sofa to run after her.

  Audrey sped after them both.

  “Please let me explain!” Violet said to Lainey’s retreating back.

  “Marc!” Lainey yelled, storming past the living room and the surprised faces of Bert and Glen, who were standing at its wide entrance.

  “Lainey!” Violet chased after her.

  “What’s happened?” Glen called out as Audrey bolted past them. “She just wanted to know when we could have the cake! I told her to ask you.”

  Lainey spun around, and Violet and Audrey nearly crashed into her. But her gaze was on Bert. “I’ll tell you what happened! I know. I know what you have all been keeping from me!”

  Then she turned on her heel and headed for the marble staircase that led to the downstairs game room. “Marc!” she yelled from the top step. “Tell everyone we’re leaving.”

  “Comment dit?” Marc’s voice wafted up the stairs.

  “We’re leaving!” Lainey turned back toward her stunned parents and Audrey. She said nothing, but grabbed her purse off the massive entry table that separated the marble staircase from the living room.

  She strode for the door as Marc and Lainey’s friends ascended the stairs with surprised faces.

  “What has happened?” Marc said to Audrey, his musical French accent making his question sound lovely in spite of the situation. Lainey was out the door and the rest of the party was milling toward it, clearly astounded.

  “Don’t let her be alone,” Audrey answered him. “Bring her back here if she will allow it. She has a right to be angry. But she has a right to an explanation, too.”

  “Lainey!” Violet called out after her daughter. She started for the door and Bert held her back.

  “Let her go, Vi. I don’t think she wants to talk to us right now.”

  She whirled on him. “I don’t know how much she heard!”

  “I think it’s pretty obvious how much she heard!” Audrey shouted.

  Glen moved to the front door to escort the rest of the guests out. A couple of them thanked him for the food and the leis and the nice party.

  “What happened?” Bert said to Audrey, as the last guest stepped over the threshold and Glen started to shut the door.

  But Audrey could not find the words to tell him what had happened in Glen’s study when the dark curtain fell.

  “She knows,” was all Audrey said.

  Violet collapsed to her knees, sobbing and calling out her daughter’s name.

  THIRTY-TWO

  June 1963

  Violet surveyed the living room with her hands on her hips and then grabbed and fluffed the sofa pillows. She started to straighten the books on the coffee table but the sound of a car outside made her freeze, and she didn’t resume her task until the vehicle continued on its way down the street. She checked her watch for the fifth time in the past hour. And then straightened the books again.

  “She’s not going to care about the way the living room looks.” Bert was suddenly behind her. His voice was gentle but tired-sounding, as though he was not also counting down the minutes to Lainey’s visit. How could he not be anticipating this day after seven months of silence?

  Then again, it hadn’t exactly been seven months of silence for him. He’d spoken to Lainey on the phone a few times since that terrible night. Violet had listened at the study door when he’d called Lainey and she’d agreed to speak with him. Violet had only heard Bert’s voice, of course, but she could tell by his responses and questions that Lainey was all right. She had moved in with Audrey and Glen. She didn’t need anything. She was not ready yet to talk to Violet.

  From the awful things Violet had said to Audrey the night of the birthday party—for which she later had apologized to Audrey profusely—and from Bert’s own honest answers, Lainey had been able to surmise it was Violet who had insisted year after year that she not be told the truth. Lainey’s anger at Bert and Audrey had subsided for the most part, but not her resentment toward Violet. Until now. Lainey was coming to the house today. It would be the first time Violet had seen or talked to her daughter since November.

  “I need to keep busy or I will go crazy waiting for them,” Violet said.

  She wanted Bert to come put his arms around her and hold her close and tell her it was all going to work out fine, that today was going to be the day she and Lainey at last mended their broken relationship.

  But he turned from her to head into the kitchen.

  The rift between Lainey and the two of them had spilled over into their marriage. For the first few weeks after the party, Bert had blamed himself for not insisting that they at least consider telling Lainey the truth when she first started showing an interest in knowing who her birth mother was.

  “Every time she asked about it, we lied to her,” he had said on the way home the night of the birthday party.

  And Violet had said they hadn’t lied; they’d been vague. To protect Lainey.

  “Protect her from what?”

  And she’d had no answer for him.

  Christmas had been especially hard. Lainey had spent it in Manhattan with Marc and his parents, who were visiting the States from Paris. Lainey had called Bert at his field office to tell him where she would be for the holidays, because she hadn’t wanted to call home and have Violet answer.

  It wasn’t until after the first of the year that Lainey reconnected with Audrey, and nearly February before she was ready to have a longer phone conversation with Bert.

  “I’m afraid she will never forgive me,” Violet had said to Audrey by phone the day she let Violet know that Lainey had moved in with her and Glen.

  “Give her time,” Audrey had said.

  “Give her time for what? What does time do?” Violet had responded in exasperation.

  “Time gives us the opportunity to learn to live with a new reality, Violet. We can’t expect her to happily embrace a complex situation that we’ve had twenty years to become familiar with.”

  “But she’s moved in with you!” Violet had whined, unable to rid her voice of the envy that dripped from it.

  “Lainey is forgiving each one of us in her own way, Vi. And I’d rather she mentally worked this out here in this house, where there are people who love her, than in her dorm room. Don’t you agree?”

  “It’s so unfair. It’s not like this was all my fault. I didn’t hold a gun to your head or Bert’s. You could have told her if you’d really wanted to,” Violet had exclaimed, and then immediately wished she hadn’t. It was Audrey’s and Bert’s loyalty to a promise they’d made that had kept them quiet. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “You’re right. It is not all your fault. She has projected all her hurt and disappointment onto you. I’m sorry about that, Violet.”

  “Do you wish you’d never given her to us?” Violet had said a moment or two later, whispering the words through her tears.

  Audrey had paused for only a moment. “If you’re asking me if I wish I had kept he
r, yes, I wish I had. But I didn’t. That’s not what I did. And, no, I don’t wish I had never given her to you.”

  As jealous as Violet was when Lainey moved in with Audrey, she’d been grateful that she could now find out how Lainey was, especially as her bitterness toward Violet started to mellow. Lainey was leaving the next day for her long-awaited trip to Paris. Audrey had convinced her to drive up with her to Santa Barbara and patch things up with Violet before she left. Audrey had said they would be there by two. It was now a few minutes before.

  Violet followed Bert into the kitchen. He was standing at the open fridge, pulling out a pitcher of iced tea.

  “That’s for dinner tonight!” Violet said.

  Bert sighed and put the pitcher back, and grabbed a bottle of Pepsi instead. “You need to relax, Vi.”

  “I can’t relax.”

  He shut the fridge door. “Well, you need to. Lainey deserves normal for a change. This is not normal.” He popped the cap and tossed it into the trash.

  The sound of an idling motor outside riveted Violet’s attention to the window. She sprang for it and looked out. A brown truck had pulled up in front of the house.

  “It’s just the UPS man,” she growled. “Did you order something?”

  Bert shook his head.

  Violet went to the front door and swung it open. The UPS man was setting a large box onto a hand truck. Then he was wheeling it toward her.

  “Are you sure that’s for us?” she called out as he approached. “We’re not expecting anything.”

  “If you’re Violet Redmond, this is yours. You know anyone in Montgomery, Alabama?”

  Violet looked at the return label. “What on earth is Mama sending in a box so big?” Violet said more to herself than anyone else.

  The UPS man asked where she wanted the box, and Violet frowned and told him he could bring it into the kitchen. This was not a good time for a surprise delivery, not with Audrey and Lainey due any minute. She would find out what was inside and then have Bert move the box to his study. She was still secretly hoping Audrey and Lainey might stay the night. She wanted to keep the guest room free of clutter.

  “What is that?” Bert asked as he looked down at the box.

  “I have no idea.” Violet signed the UPS man’s paperwork, and he left.

  She grabbed a pair of scissors and slid one blade down the packaging tape. Inside the box were—at first glance—a myriad of old, friendly things: dolls she’d had as a child and that Lainey had also played with when they’d visited Montgomery, books, a jewelry box and other trinkets, and much more. A letter lay on top. Violet opened the flap on the envelope and withdrew the letter.

  Dear Violet:

  So sorry that things with you and Lainey are still jumbled. I am sure in time Lainey will come to see she has two wonderful mother figures in her life who love her. Most of us only have one, and some not even that.

  Your father and I have decided to sell the house, like I told you we might, and retire to Florida. I’ve been going through closets and such and I found many old things of yours you might want, and I thought perhaps you could share them with Lainey as a way to reconnect with her. One thing mothers do is pass on what we love to our children. I was thinking she might enjoy having some of these things that used to be yours. It could be a start to gaining back the close relationship with her that you’ve lost for right now.

  And even if she doesn’t want these old things, know that resentment is a hard companion to have around. She will tire of it, Violet. Don’t give up. Mothers never do.

  I’ll call you next week sometime,

  Love, Mama

  Violet wasn’t aware that Bert was reading over her shoulder until she felt his arm around her waist.

  “That was a nice thing for her to do,” he said.

  Violet wiped her wet cheeks. “It was.”

  She had just started to kneel at the box when through the open window she heard the sound of a car door closing just outside. They had been so intrigued by the box and the letter, neither one of them had heard a car pull up.

  “They’re here!” Violet tossed the letter to the box and stood. She pivoted and made for the front door, which was still slightly ajar. She flung it the rest of the way open. Audrey was coming up the walkway alone.

  Lainey wasn’t with her.

  Audrey looked beautiful in turquoise pants and a matching top. Her long hair was pulled back from her face with a wide black headband. She carried an oversized woven bag dotted with large fabric daisies.

  Words escaped Violet as Audrey closed the distance to them. They wordlessly exchanged embraces.

  “She decided not to come?” Bert said, his voice polite but weighted with disappointment.

  Audrey pulled off her white-framed sunglasses. “I’m so sorry. She . . . she changed her mind at the last minute.” Then she turned to Violet. “She did give me this to bring to you.” Audrey reached into the woven bag and withdrew an envelope. Written across the front was one word.

  Mom.

  Violet began to shake with tears she desperately wanted to rein in and knew she would not be able to. The word looked so beautiful, so tender, but the letter was in place of Lainey herself. She clasped the envelope to her chest and looked up at Audrey, willing her to tell her what she might expect to read on the pages inside.

  Audrey seemed to know Violet wanted assurance that the contents would not destroy her. She said nothing. Audrey didn’t know what the letter said.

  “Come on inside, Audrey,” Bert said.

  Audrey stepped into the house and put her hand on Violet’s arm. “She doesn’t hate you, Violet.”

  The tears slid down steadily now.

  Bert’s arm was at her back. “You want to read it alone in the bedroom, Vi?”

  Violet shook her head. She did not want to be alone. She turned to him. “I don’t think I can read it!”

  His eyes were misted, too.

  Violet turned to Audrey and handed her the letter. Audrey silently took it. She sat down in one of the armchairs, and Bert and Violet moved to the couch and sat down, too. They sat forward on the cushions, and Violet was glad to have Bert’s hand in hers.

  Audrey took out the letter and began to read:

  Dear Mom,

  I’m sorry I am not there with Audrey right now. There will be a time when I can look at you and not be angry, but that time hasn’t come yet. I’ve lived long enough to know that when someone you love hurts you, it takes longer to heal. And I do still love you. But my heart feels tattered right now, and I can’t trust you.

  I know why Audrey gave me up. I know why she wanted you and Dad to take me. What I don’t understand is why you made them promise not to tell me the truth, especially when I wanted to know where I came from. When I was a teenager, I asked Audrey once if she knew who my birth mother was. She told me that was a question for you and Dad. When I asked Dad if he knew who she was, he just said he knew that she had loved me and wanted me to be happy. But when I asked you if you knew who she was, you said you didn’t. When I asked you if you knew what her name was, you said no.

  Audrey says you did what you thought was best for everyone, not just for me, but for her and for you. But she also told me, because I insisted on her honesty, that she never demanded of you and Daddy that I not be told. Not telling me was your idea. I don’t understand what terrible tragedy you were attempting to prevent. You knew how much I wanted to know who my birth mother was.

  Year after year you let me think “Auntie” Audrey was just a good friend who couldn’t have children and that my birth mother was some troubled, unwed girl in need of rescue. Audrey insists you did rescue her—and me—and that she had been in a desperate situation. But she wasn’t some nameless stranger. She was the person you always told me was your best friend.

  You were always such a good mother to me. And
this—all of this—doesn’t seem like something you would have done.

  I am leaving for France tomorrow, as you know. And I think this trip is coming at a good time. Perhaps when I am far, far away from everything and everyone I thought I knew, I can make sense of this. Or at least learn to live with it.

  I’m sorry I can’t just let this go like none of it matters. I know you want me to. But that’s not how you raised me.

  Lainey

  When Audrey was finished, the room was silent. After a few moments, Audrey handed the letter back to Violet.

  She took the letter and folded it with a shaking hand. Bert put his arm around her and pulled her close. His touch in that way was exquisite and yet piercing. Love had such sharp edges.

  “I never wanted it to be like this,” Violet whispered as she held the letter’s words, folded from view, in her hand.

  “Of course you didn’t,” Bert said, stroking her shoulder. “None of us did. Lainey will come around.”

  Violet wiped away her tears and looked up at Audrey. “I’m sorry I told her I didn’t know your name or who you were. I hated lying to her. But she kept pressing me. I . . . I wanted her to stop.”

  Audrey looked down at her empty hands. “We’ve all made choices we might’ve handled differently if we knew then what we know now. Bert’s right. She’ll come around.”

  The three of them were quiet again for a few moments.

  “Can you stay for dinner? Bert is grilling steaks,” Violet said.

  Audrey shook her head. “I’m going to head back before too long. Glen’s not well and I don’t like being two hours away.”

  “So sorry to hear that,” Bert said.

  “Yes, so sorry,” Violet whispered.

  “But I can stay for a little while and we can visit and catch up.”

  Audrey told them that her most recent role on The Twilight Zone was going to be her last for a while, maybe for good. She wanted to spend more time with Glen and was actually looking forward to retirement.

  Violet couldn’t believe what she was hearing. This was not the Audrey she knew. “But all your life you wanted to be a star and now you are one. And you want to quit?”