by Anne Girard
“I’ll scrub your back.”
“Chuck!” She gave him a slight smile.
“The privileged life of a happily married man,” he declared, looking to her in that moment much older than he really was. Even when he smiled, there was always that deep sadness behind his eyes. Tragedy had a way of doing that to people, she thought, suddenly sorry she had never gotten to meet his parents. She had a feeling Chuck was a lot like them, and she found herself hoping they would have liked her.
* * *
Later that evening, after the dinner dishes were done, when Chuck himself surrendered to a bath she had drawn for him, Harlean had a moment to herself and picked up the telephone. While she had her mother’s aunt Jetty nearby out in Long Beach, who she could telephone from time to time when she got lonely, she had longed for days to make a call home.
“Oh, Baby, it’s so wonderful to hear your voice.”
“Yours, too, Mommie. You’ll never guess what happened, not in a million years!
“It really was the strangest thing.” She lowered her voice and cupped her hand around the heavy black phone receiver as she explained about Dave Allen.
In response, her mother gasped. “You’re joking! Why, that’s absolutely wonderful!”
“No one will call me of course, but I had to tell you about it.”
“Of course you did, my sweet baby girl. We tell each other everything. I’d have been hurt if you didn’t!”
Harlean felt herself relax just hearing her mother’s voice and the urge to confess further grew.
“I told them my name was Jean Harlow. I’m not sure why I did it. Maybe so Chuck wouldn’t have to know for now.”
“Sounds like you’re dealing with the same jealous Charles,” her mother said flatly. The dig at Chuck notwithstanding, Harlean still felt a familiar surge of longing for her mother’s company. She never realized so fully until they spoke again after a few days’ absence, just how much she missed their tender mother-and-daughter confidences.
Harlean could hear a sudden muffled exchange with a man on the other end of the line, her mother’s hand over the receiver. “You know, as it happens, Baby, Marino and I have been talking about taking a trip out to California ourselves, maybe staying awhile.”
She could hardly contain her joy at the prospect. Her dislike of her stepfather paled in comparison to her overpowering love for her mother.
Her father and slick Marino Bello were polar opposites. Mont Clair Carpenter, a prosperous dentist, had tried to give his beautiful blonde wife everything in order to keep her happy. As the marriage began to fall apart, he had worked hard just to keep her. In the end, no amount of money was able to do that. The fact that her mother had replaced her quiet, tenderhearted father with a huckster like Marino was as foul a thing as Harlean’s romantic mind could conjure. But her mother loved him, so Harlean had resolved long ago to keep her silence about him.
“Well, that would be really wonderful. I mean, if it’s no trouble for Marino.”
“Don’t be silly, Baby. Marino loves you as if you were his own daughter.”
She didn’t believe Marino really loved anyone other than himself, but as usual, she resisted saying it for her mother’s sake.
“And while I’m there, I can go with you on auditions. After all, I do know my way around the studios, so things will go so much more smoothly for you, my darling Baby. Fear not,” Jean Harlow Bello exclaimed, “Mother will be there soon.”
Chapter Six
Things were going so well between them that Harlean still hadn’t found the courage to tell Chuck about the impending visit by her mother and Marino. She and Chuck sometimes spent long, lazy mornings reading the newspaper together with breakfast in bed, and wonderful afternoons—when he wasn’t with the boys—ambling through quaint antiques shops in Santa Monica, hunting for special pieces to accent their home. She only wished it could be more often. In the evenings, they often played backgammon, or cards with Rosalie and Ivor. But her hesitation over revealing the visit sooner than she must was not without reason. Chuck found Jean Bello overbearing and controlling. And despite Harlean’s best efforts, he could not be swayed to see what it was that she loved so much about her mother.
A yipping sound, a high-pitched bark, woke her very suddenly one morning, a few days after their hike through Griffith Park. Harlean struggled to see the clock on her bedside table. Half past eight. She could feel the bed was empty beside her. The heavy draperies on her bedroom windows blotted out most of the morning sunlight so she flipped on a Tiffany bedside lamp and sat up. On the floor beside her dressing table was a fluffy ginger-colored Pomeranian puppy, yelping at her for attention. A lover of animals, Harlean was delighted to see such a cute little dog mysteriously at her feet, however it had arrived there.
“Well, now, who might you be?”
She tossed back the covers, went across the room and saw a red bow and the note tied around the puppy’s small neck.
Oscar will keep you company when I’m not here. He is the only other boy allowed access to your boudoir. Love, Chuck.
Entirely charmed by the cute and unexpected gift, she placed her hands on her hips. “Oscar, is it?” The dog stopped barking now that she was paying attention and his tail began to wag. “You’re an awfully demanding fella, aren’t you, Oscar?”
She bent down and scooped him up into her arms, which he quite happily tolerated with a whimper. Then he began to lick her cheek with his sandpaper tongue.
“Let’s get one thing straight right from the start, Buster Brown. You might have access to my bedroom boudoir, but my husband is the only one allowed to kiss me in here, is that clear?”
It felt like ages since Harlean had had a pet of her own. Back in Missouri, she’d had quite a menagerie to care for and keep her company while her mother was out. When she was a little girl, Grandpa Harlow had spoiled her with kittens, a Labrador puppy and even a parrot—as many pets as she could convince him to let her have. She owed her grandfather a letter, she thought, and she would reread his last one to her for how much she missed him.
Her heart swelled with love that Chuck had thought to do this. She’d been so horribly homesick lately, but this gift made everything seem so much better. Especially with the blindingly dull day of bridge and shopping which lay ahead for her today.
She stroked the puppy’s head and, once again, he lunged for her face to lick her. “I can see we are going to have to work on your manners, Oscar,” she joked as she took him into the kitchen to see if her very thoughtful husband’s gesture had extended to the purchase of dog food.
* * *
It had to be done. Harlean knew she had already put off too long telling Chuck about her mother and Marino’s visit, which was now only a few days away. In an attempt to divert an argument, she had decided to mention it just after Rosalie and Ivor arrived one evening for a game of cards. Earlier in the day, she had confided in Rosalie, who wasn’t particularly thrilled to be caught up in another potential scene, like on the cruise ship, over the subject of Harlean’s mother.
“I owe you,” Harlean murmured to Rosalie in the kitchen as she stirred a pitcher of lemonade and set it on a tray.
“Damn right you do. Have you even told him yet about Dave Allen?”
“One battle at a time, Rosie, please.”
They walked together back into the dining room where Chuck was dealing the cards. “Five card draw?” he asked of which game they would play first. Ivor nodded in accord.
“So, you know how much I’ve been missing my mother since we’ve been out here,” Harlean began and, as she did, she felt her heart quicken.
She so desperately wanted this to go well and there were a dozen reasons that it wouldn’t.
“The mother you talk to on the phone every week?”
Everyone exchanged a glance b
efore they picked up their cards.
“Sorry, doll, yes, I know how much,” he amended. “Why?”
“Well, she and Marino are coming out to California for a visit!” Harlean tried her best to make it sound like a wonderful announcement, but it took some effort with her heart racing as it was.
“Isn’t that great, Chuck?” Rosalie asked cheerfully before he had a chance to react. “After all, we girls are never too old to spend time with our mothers.”
“I’m really awfully happy about it,” Harlean added, her glance shifting from Rosalie back to Chuck.
In the silence that followed, she reached across the table and put her hand over his. She was relieved when he didn’t pull away, even though he kept looking at his cards. “If it’s what’ll make you happy, then I’ll welcome them to California,” he finally said. “How long are they staying?”
There was a note of humor in the way he had added the question, and how quickly. Or maybe it was just that the three of them were so relieved there wouldn’t be a scene that Ivor started to laugh. Then they all did. When he gave Chuck a light brotherly clip on the shoulder, Harlean felt herself finally exhale.
* * *
Jean Harlow Bello always entered a room as if she were driven inside by the force of a strong wind. There was a confidence and attitude that came with her as well as a mighty swirl of her favorite Shalimar perfume. Today was no different. Chuck held the front door open as his mother-in-law strode past him, swirling onto the scene in a smart burgundy traveling suit, with a fox-fur collar, pearl earrings, fashionable black turban and neat black gloves. Having been a teenage bride herself, and a mother at the age of nineteen, Harlean’s mother was still a beauty. But her overly strong personality made a far stronger impression.
Harlean watched Chuck roll his eyes as her mother was followed inside by her husband, Marino, with his oiled inky hair and waxed ebony mustache. He was wearing his customary tight-fitting pin-striped suit with white spats, and he was dutifully toting the luggage.
“Ahh, there’s my baby, at last!” Jean cried out as she drew Harlean to her chest and squeezed her. The gesture was theatrical, but she loved being caught up in her mother’s distinctive whirlwind embrace.
“Mommie is here now, Baby. All is right with the world when we Harlow women are back together.”
Harlean heard the subtle challenge to Chuck in that, as she knew he was meant to, but she refused to react, and she hoped he wouldn’t either to ruin their reunion. Besides, it had been cleverly worded as a compliment. Jean was an expert at that sort of thing. Harlean didn’t love facing that, and the sensation was unsettling, even mixed with the joy of being reunited.
“Hello there, Charles,” Jean said blandly as she tossed Chuck a cursory glance. “Provincial little place you’ve got here.”
It hadn’t been meant as a compliment but Chuck had been brought up well enough not to take the bait.
“Thank you, Mrs. Bello. We’re happy here.”
Harlean heard the unmistakable edge in his response. Jean had never forgiven Chuck for eloping with her precious only child and every look, every word, was meant to remind him of that. In particular, she had resisted inviting him to call her by her first name. But Harlean had gained such confidence these past months of their marriage, by taking chances and by watching Rosalie, that she had every intention now of finding clever ways to help the two of them reconcile their differences, and not allowing her mother to steamroller things this time.
If they spent enough time together, Jean would see what a wonderful young man she had chosen on her own. Going against her family to marry Chuck, when she knew that it was right for her, had only been a prelude to the bold choices she was beginning to make for her life, and she liked the way that felt. The independence she had begun to seek here in Hollywood was drawing her more strongly every day.
“Come on, Marino, let’s find the guest room. You do have one, don’t you?”
“Mommie, you and Marino take our room. It’s larger and much more comfortable.”
She didn’t have to look in order to see Chuck’s shocked stare. “You’re staying here? Harlean, why didn’t you tell me that?”
“Until we find our own place, where would you suggest your wife’s mother stay? In a hotel, Charles?”
Knowing how close she was to her mother, Harlean thought he would have assumed the Bellos would stay with them. It was what families did, after all, wasn’t it? But then again, as a young boy, before the death of his parents, perhaps they’d never had out-of-town family. How could she know that when he wouldn’t talk about any of it? Whatever the circumstances, there had to be a way to make everyone happy. If there was, Harlean was determined to find it. Family and loyalty, after all, meant everything to her.
* * *
As the Bellos were settling into the master bedroom, Chuck came to Harlean as she was making up the bed in the guest room.
“Listen, doll, I completely forgot a tennis date I agreed to at the country club in half an hour. I can’t miss it since I’m playing doubles. You understand, don’t you?”
“I just thought maybe we’d take my mother and Marino out to lunch?”
In response, he pressed a halfhearted kiss onto her cheek as he buttoned his tennis sweater. “Why don’t you give Rosy a call? She can probably finagle another table for you all at the Brown Derby. Who knows, that might actually impress your mother.”
Then, before she could object further, he chucked her under the chin and left the room.
When they heard his car engine begin to rumble out on the street, Jean came into the room, sank onto the edge of Harlean’s bed and held up a hand to her daughter.
“Come sit with Mommie and tell me absolutely everything. Have you been well? You look terribly pale and thin. Is he even feeding you?”
“I’d rather hear about Grandpa. How is he doing? I try to call him once a week but you know how he hates the telephone.”
Harlean sat down beside her, trying to press away her disappointment at Chuck’s sudden leaving, as they embraced again. Her mother always smelled like that powdery citrus fragrance and for Harlean it was a comforting scent. Despite the way she had phrased it, Harlean understood the comment. While she encouraged her daughter to keep her figure, Jean would probably always worry about her daughter’s health. The severe case of scarlet fever she’d endured as a girl had frightened them both. No one but the two of them truly understood how life-altering that episode had been. It was one of the many things that tightened the finely woven mother-daughter bond.
“Seriously, Baby, how are you?”
“I’m fit as a fiddle, I promise. And there really isn’t anything to tell. I registered with Central Casting. Rosalie, that’s the girl I was telling you about, didn’t believe I’d do it, so it was fun to see her face after I did it.”
“On the train here, after what you told me, I was thinking about getting you some elocution lessons, and a few ballet lessons couldn’t hurt with bearing before you get a call. Believe me, the cameras see everything. I could never quite make the camera see what others tell me they see of me in person. You know how people have always referred to me as a beauty. But you, you’re different, Baby.”
“Mommie, there were more than fifty girls there that day, lined up around the office, and one was prettier than the next.”
“The world is full of pretty girls, Harlean. You can’t let that deter you.”
“Deter me from what? It’s not like I’m actually going to get an audition. It was a dare I took. Now it’s over and done with.”
“We shall see, won’t we?”
Her mother smiled, and her flawless skin looked luminescent to Harlean in this light. She had always thought her mother was exquisitely beautiful, and she knew people thought they resembled one another. Harlean had always been so flattered by that, and
she felt even more linked with her because of it.
“But in the meantime, it couldn’t hurt to be prepared. We will get you those lessons. So tell me, how did Charles take the news?”
Harlean grimaced. “Now, Mommie, you know perfectly well Chuck hates to be called Charles since that was his father’s name and it reminds him of his parents’ loss.”
“But Chuck just sounds so...pedestrian.”
“Well, I’m ordinary, too, you know.”
“There is nothing ordinary about you, Harlean Carpenter.”
Harlean sighed. “It’s McGrew now.”
Then it was Jean’s turn to roll her eyes. “Fine. What did your Chuck McGrew say about you going to Fox, then signing with Central Casting?”
“He doesn’t know, and he’s not going to right now, either, until I decide for myself what I think about it all. If he ever has to be told, I’ll be the one to do it. Can we talk about something more pleasant, like finding you and Marino a house to rent?”
Jean lifted a shapely blond eyebrow. “Baby, what in heaven’s name has gotten into you? This sort of contrary tone with me isn’t at all like you. On top of that we’ve only just arrived, and you’re putting us out?”
“I just thought you and Marino would want more privacy.”
“And you and Chuck?”
Harlean was eager to change the subject. “Well, I certainly am glad you warned me about sex, I’ll say that,” she said with girlish delight and, by it, sounding more like the teenager she was than a married woman. “I mean, you really kept nothing back when you explained.”
Jean put an arm around her daughter’s shoulder and drew her closer. “What would’ve been the point of anything else, hmm? I always told you, your body is nothing to be ashamed of, nor is sex. It’s actually quite splendid. Although I admit factoring you with Charles into that sentiment has somewhat dampened my zeal for it. And while we are on the subject of your husband, does he often go off like that so suddenly and just leave you alone?”
“He doesn’t leave me, Mommie. He’s making friends. It’s good for him.”