by Monica Nolan
The car turned in between the rustic gateposts that, according to Mainwaring family lore, Great-grandfather had hewed himself from two hefty pine trees. Maxie privately suspected that the pine baron, busy running his logging camps, had hired it done. The log cabin where he and Great-grandma once lived had been expanded and improved over the years so that the founder of the Mainwaring fortune would hardly have recognized it. Loon Lake Lodge, it was called now.
The car stopped by the stone terrace. Maxie got out and stood a moment, sniffing the pine-scented air and peering down at the sparkling blue of the lake. She could see figures sunning themselves on the swim raft, and she wondered who the other guests were. Mumsy had said it would be an “intimate” weekend.
The subject of her thoughts emerged from the house, wearing a plaid shirt tucked into a pair of neatly pressed slacks.
“Finally!” said Mrs. Mainwaring. “The rest of the guests arrived ages ago. They’re swimming now, but you’d better go shower and change. The Lunds will be here shortly.”
“The Lunds!” Maxie didn’t know what irritated her more, her mother’s assumption that she could arrange Maxie’s schedule, or the thought of sitting across from the disapproving DAP dowager at dinner. “Why on earth did you invite them?”
Her mother bristled. “Why shouldn’t I invite them? They’re old family friends!”
It was as if Maxie and her mother had seen each other only yesterday, instead of mid-May. They’d picked up the nagging and grumbling precisely where they’d left off.
I’m independent now, Maxie reminded herself. She seated herself in an Adirondack chair. “Sure, why shouldn’t you?” she echoed. “But I think I’ll need a cocktail if I’m going to sit through dinner with Inga. How about rustling up a martini, Mumsy, dear?” Her mother opened her mouth, but Maxie forestalled her. “Or had I better hitchhike into town and catch the bus back to Bay City where I can do as I like?”
Her mother hesitated, torn between the desire to tell Maxie off and something stronger that stopped her. Maxie knew suddenly that Mumsy wanted something from her. But what?
“I’ll have Oscar mix your drink,” she choked out, and retreated into the house.
And she didn’t even remind me to comb my hair! Maxie marveled. Now, of course, she wanted to freshen up. She went to her old room, where Sigrid was unpacking her overnight case. “Welcome home, Miss Maxie,” she said politely. “Would you like me to draw your bath?”
Maxie told her not to bother, and after Sigrid had left, she splashed some water on her face and changed into a raspberry-colored polished cotton. She was combing her hair when there was a tap on the door. It was Oscar, bearing a martini on a tray. Maxie sipped the drink, wondering again what her mother wanted so badly.
It couldn’t have anything to do with money. As Maxie wandered to the Lodge’s living room, carrying her cocktail, she could see that the expensive machinery of the Mainwaring household was moving as smoothly as ever. Now that Maxie had developed the habit of calculating costs, she was staggered as she added up the amount that would be spent for this casual country weekend. She could start a dozen Vistas for that price!
Only her parents were in the big, screened-in room, and Oscar, who was arranging appetizers under the totem pole at the far end. “Hi, cookie,” her father said as he turned a page in Bit and Spur. Maxie’s mother was sipping Scotch.
She never used to drink, thought Maxie. What gives?
“Who else is here?” she asked, helping herself to a deviled egg.
“A mix of old friends and new,” Mumsy answered evasively. “I thought you’d enjoy seeing Sookie Carmichael, and—”
Before her mother could finish her list, the guests themselves arrived. Sookie embraced her boarding school chum with squeals of girlish enthusiasm. Maxie swallowed her egg as Sookie turned to the square-jawed, slightly bucktoothed young man who’d followed her in. “Maxie, meet Ted—Ted Driscoll. Ted, Maxie Mainwaring.”
“I’ve heard so much about you,” Maxie said, shaking the young man’s hand, wondering what he knew about her and Elaine. Was this another of her mother’s attempts to get Maxie engaged? Her daughter felt almost disappointed.
Then her attention was caught by a head of platinum hair, and her astonished gaze traveled down to meet a pair of serene brown eyes. Below the gold-embroidered summer shift, the legs were as lovely as ever. Maxie scarcely noticed her mother taking her arm and bringing her forward. “Velma, I want you to meet my daughter,”
“Maxie, what a delight to see you again.” The attractive blonde took Maxie’s hand warmly in both her own. An invisible, radiant energy seemed to leap from her and envelop Maxie, making the younger girl feel turbocharged.
“You’ve met?” Maxie’s mother sounded incredulous at the idea that the dynamic businesswoman who was making her mark on Bay City society was acquainted with her disgraced daughter.
Velma let go of Maxie and turned to Mrs. Mainwaring. “Oh yes.” She shook her finger at Mumsy in mock reproof. “And had I known in time that your talented daughter was looking for work, I’d have snapped her up before Hal Hapgood got hold of her!”
So she had gotten the phone message, Maxie thought, pleased. Velma turned to greet Mr. Mainwaring, and Maxie’s mother pulled her aside. “I won’t have you working for Amalgamated Enterprises,” she ordered Maxie. “It’s defeminizing!”
Maxie shook off her mother’s grip. “Relax, Mumsy, I’m happy at Polish. But why shouldn’t I work at Amalgamated if I want to?” She looked appreciatively at Velma. “It hasn’t hurt her!”
It was strange that the two women had become close. Maxie looked from one to the other as she absently ate Anna’s herring balls. They hadn’t much in common. Or had they? Maxie sensed a certain steely quality in the attractive executive that Mumsy shared. And they were both keen on DAP politics, as if it mattered who was elected for what office! Velma’s variance, which set Maxie’s geiger counter clicking, simply didn’t register with Mumsy. Unlike Maxie, Velma was careful to hide her tendencies.
It might be fun to make her unveil herself, Maxie mused. Then she turned from temptation to Ted, who’d been seated next to her.
“How is Elaine?” Maxie asked after Ted’s fickle ex-fiancée mischievously.
Ted’s brows drew together. “The engagement is off.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize,” Maxie fibbed.
“Everyone thinks it’s just a spat,” Ted told her bitterly. “Even my family! Of course, they’ve been pushing us together since we were in kindergarten.”
So it had been a merger as much as a marriage, Maxie thought. But all she said was, “I wouldn’t think it would be a hardship. Elaine’s quite attractive.”
Ted lowered his voice. “She’s a very sick girl,” he confided. “How could I marry someone who can’t keep her hands off my own—” He stopped abruptly.
Maxie wondered who, precisely, the heartless hussy had handled. She couldn’t help feeling sorry for Ted, even as she defended her former flirtation: “Elaine is sort of selfish, but she’s healthy as a horse!”
Ted shrugged. “Dad will have to find some other way to shore up the dry-cleaning business. What he doesn’t realize,” Ted continued earnestly, “is that dry cleaning is a thing of the past—the money in the future is going to be in Laundromats!”
“I think you’re right,” Maxie agreed. “Especially with the new drip-dry fabrics.”
“Exactly,” said Ted. “I finally persuaded Dad to sell off a few of our lowest performers, and once the deal with Amalgamated Enterprises is done—”
“You mean Velma”—Maxie gestured with a forkful of kyckling pölsa—“is the buyer?”
“She’s negotiating the deal,” said Ted. “And she drives a tough bargain!”
Maxie pictured Velma, those beautiful legs crossed in a smoke-filled room of hard-faced businessmen. She found the image stimulating.
“. . . and then I’ll open Sudso! That’s what I’m going to call ’em—Sudsos. I p
lan to have a whole chain of them!”
While Ted droned on about Sudso, Maxie listened with half an ear. Her eyes were on Velma across the table, laughing politely at one of Mr. Lund’s jokes. Even ambitious Pamela paled beside the powerful businesswoman!
“You’re an awfully sympathetic sort of girl,” Ted said as they left the dining room.
“I have more in common with Elaine than you think,” Maxie advised. “You’d better stick to Sookie!”
Late that night, Maxie was in her room, gazing out at the moon, which peeped through a filigree of pine branches. She was thinking of her long-gone youth, when she saw the glow of an orange ember on the terrace. Velma’s shapely form emerged from the shadows as she, too, paused to look up at the moon.
Maxie raised her hand to the handle of the sliding screen door. Only thin mesh separated her from the blond beauty. She had merely to slide open the door and she could join the older woman for a cigarette—and perhaps more. Every nerve in her body urged her on, but was she attracted or merely intrigued? Was this chemistry or curiosity?
And what about Pamela? Maxie remembered the pledge she’d made the night of Janet’s party. She let her hand slip from the door, but she watched the orange dot wax and wane until finally it fell to the ground and winked out.
With a sigh, Maxie turned away. She pulled Stella’s manuscript out of her bag and unwrapped it. Climbing into bed, she propped herself on the pillows and began to read.
IF LOVE IS THE ANSWER, WHAT IS THE QUESTION?
a novel by Stella McSweeney
Sally opened the door to the Homophile Handbooks office and slipped inside, her heart pounding. She’d never thought she’d have the courage to join this intrepid organization, frowned upon by “normal” society. . . .
Why, it’s a roman à clef, Maxie realized, reading with mounting interest. It was all about The Step Stool, its staff, and volunteers. They’d certainly been a busy bunch of girls! “Sally” must be Stella, while “stern-jawed Lydia,” the secret object of Sally/Stella’s affections, was obviously Louise. Maxie wondered if Stella still carried a torch for the managing editor.
But no, after “Sally” was disappointed by “Lydia,” she proceeded to cut a swath through the rest of the staff. Stella has quite a knack for the racy stuff! Maxie thought admiringly, as she read how “Sally” and “Edna” were trapped together in an overheated elevator and forced to strip to avoid heatstroke.
In a sudden gesture, Edna tore open Sally’s blouse, panting, “Our lives are at stake,” as her eyes dwelt on Sally’s lacy C-cups, which heaved up and down in an effort to obtain enough oxygen.
Was Stella really a C-cup, or was that poetic license? Maxie snuggled down in her pillows and read with satisfaction the steamy denouement between Edna and Sally.
But it was the next chapter that really got her attention. “Patricia,” a “lanky redhead and faithful volunteer who worked at the perfume counter in a large department store,” appeared on the scene. Pamela would not appreciate the demotion, Maxie mused, her eyes skimming ahead for more mentions of “Patricia.”
Suddenly a sentence leaped out at her: For there were Jane and Patricia, entwined in a tight embrace!
What? Maxie backed up. “Sally” was pursuing “spunky little Jane,” who must be June. Now Sally/Stella, while visiting the office late at night to return a borrowed typewriter, had surprised Jane/June in a tryst with the “lanky redhead.” Maxie read rapidly: “Sally stood stock still, unable to look away” as things heated up between Jane/ June and Patricia/Pamela. Snatches of text burned themselves into Maxie’s brain: Jane tugged off Patricia’s navy skirt.... Patricia moaned as Jane pushed her against the cracked plaster wall.... Their moans turned to howls of ecstatic release.
Maxie put down the pages and stared at the pine-paneled wall with unseeing eyes. This was fiction, she told herself. Not a private detective’s report.
On the other hand, the novel’s account of “Minnie” and “Lydia’s” brief but torrid affair was an exact descripton of what had happened between Martie and Louise, down to the scene where Minnie/Martie threw Lydia/Louise’s clothes out the window and into the street. Wasn’t it highly probable that Pamela and June had had some sort of fling?
And Maxie knew for a fact that Pamela could make a lot of noise when she was expressing her pleasure!
It must have happened that Christmas Maxie’d been forced to go to Acapulco with her family. They’d had a terrible fight just before Maxie left—had they broken up? Maxie couldn’t remember.
Maxie felt pulled every which way by all sorts of emotions, like a tourist who can’t decide what to do first. She was shocked at the discovery; angry at Pamela for taking her in with that loyal girlfriend line; and she certainly regretted restraining herself tonight with Velma!
Mostly, she was terribly curious. What else had her devious girlfriend been up to?
Maxie picked up Stella’s novel and began to read where she’d left off.
Chapter 20
Fireworks
Maxie was still asleep the next morning, when Sigrid entered carrying her breakfast tray. Her “Good morning, miss” woke the tired girl, who’d been up until the wee hours poring over Stella’s novel. Heavy-eyed, she struggled into a sitting position, as Sigrid put down the tray and opened the curtains. She’d scarcely finished creaming her coffee when her mother came in.
“We’re having a dinner-dance to watch the fireworks this evening,” she began. “You’ll greet the guests with me at five. I’ve arranged for our house guests to tour the lake in the pleasure boat, and I think it would be nice if you went with them and showed them the sights. . . .”
Mabel Mainwaring continued unfolding the day’s agenda while Maxie ate her fruit cup, paying only token attention. Then:
“I suppose you’ve been wondering why I’ve decided to forgive you and pay off your accounts,” her mother began. Maxie looked up in surprise. She hadn’t even suspected her mother. “I’m prepared to go on paying them, and restore some of your allowance,” her mother continued crisply.
Maxie gaped. “Why the sudden change of heart?”
“I won’t have our family affairs exposed to the public!” Maxie’s mother flared. At first, Maxie thought her mother meant Mamie McArdle’s column, but the Mainwaring matron was continuing angrily, “Hiring that shyster lawyer to suggest that Aunt Alta is insane! Have you no sense of shame?”
“Aunt Alta is nuts,” Maxie objected. “And Janet’s no shyster!”
“Someone stole the trust papers from your father’s den,” Mumsy accused. “Who else would be responsible for such an underhanded trick?”
“That was me,” Maxie informed her.
“You!” Mumsy stared at her, outraged. “After the money we’ve spent raising you—”
Mumsy launched into her usual lament about Maxie’s bad behavior, and her daughter decided it was time to turn the tables.
“Listen, I’ll call Janet off if it means I can collect my allowance,” she interrupted. “But if you want to avoid scandal, why are you visiting Lake Street pawnshops? It’s not the sort of appearance you want mentioned in ‘Here and There.’ ”
Maxie’s mother put her hand to her throat. The blood drained from her face. “Who’s spreading such lies? What utter nonsense! I never did such a thing in my life!” She stood up and practically ran from the room. “I have a house party to host!”
Even if Maxie hadn’t already been positive she’d seen her mother at the pawnshop, Mumsy’s hasty retreat would have convinced her. Whatever it was her mother had been doing, she wanted it kept very, very private—that much was clear.
Today Maxie was leaning toward an illicit affair. Maybe it was just the soap-opera story she’d been following in If Love Is The Answer, What Is The Question?, but if Pamela could go from faithful to faithless, why not Mumsy? After all, Daddy was practically married to his ponies. It would explain a lot—the Scotch and her apparent distraction—the way she’d given a little jump when t
he phone rang last night during dinner. She hadn’t even relaxed when the call turned out to be for Velma.
And speaking of Velma . . . Maxie threw back the covers and went to take her shower. She’d been Pamela’s patsy the other night, reining in her impulses out of misguided loyalty. She was going to correct that situation today!
Unfortunately for Maxie, Ted Driscoll stuck to her like glue all afternoon. He nattered on about Sudso through the tour of Loon Lake and was still at it during the afternoon swim. Sookie was the one to give Velma diving tips, and the ex-deb had to watch her prep school friend put her hands all over the attractive executive, while Ted, who could talk and tread water at the same time, explained the term “loss leader.”
Her chance came after dinner, when the guests drifted out to the terrace to watch the Fourth of July fireworks, Maxie made her way to Velma’s side: “Want a better view? I know just the spot.”
“How nice of you.” Velma followed her from the terrace. Their feet crunched softly on the pine needles covering the forest floor as Maxie led her through the woods to a point of land where their view of the lake was unobstructed.
“Lovely,” approved Velma. “Like having the best box at the opera.” As if on cue, there was a loud crack and whistle, and a shower of sparks lit up the sky.
“I was admiring your diving form this afternoon,” Maxie told her. “You could have competed, I’ll bet.”
“Oh no.” Velma discounted the praise. “I’ve never been much for sports.”
Maxie thought she had never seen anyone lovelier than Velma, as a blue skyrocket screamed overhead and added frosty highlights to her platinum hair and aqua shadows to the moss-green chiffon that blended with the forest. She reached for Velma’s hand, in the grip of a desire so powerful she could hardly stand.