Chapter Two
Amanda Kingston took both her daughters to the Biltmore in Santa Barbara in June. Paul was in New York, working on the last details of a movie deal, and Louise's husband, Jerry, was at a legal conference in Denver. And it seemed an ideal opportunity to spend some time together. But as soon as they got to the hotel, and actually sat down and talked, both younger women realized how badly their mother was doing. She still wore black constantly, her hair was pulled tightly back and looked too severe, and she wore no makeup, and as soon as Jan asked how she was, she burst into tears and couldn't stop crying.
It was one of those rare times when both girls put down their animosity, and were united in concern for their mother. And while Amanda was still asleep, they both went downstairs to the dining room for breakfast together on Sunday morning.
She should see a doctor. She's just too depressed, Louise said over blueberry pancakes. She scares me. I think she ought to be on Prozac ' or Valium, or something.
That'll just make her worse. She needs to get out and see her friends. I ran into Mrs. Auberman last week and she said she hasn't seen Mom since Dad died. It's been five months, she can't just sit in the house and cry forever.
Maybe she can, Louise said, looking her sister in the eye, wondering, as she always did, if they had anything at all in common. You know, it's what Dad would have wanted. If he could have left instructions to that effect, he would have had her buried with him.
That's disgusting. Jan looked at her older sister with instant fury. You know how he hated it when she was unhappy!
You know how he hated it when she had any kind of a life other than watching us take ballet, or playing bridge with the wives of his partners. I think that subconsciously she thinks he would have wanted her to be just as miserable as she is. I think she should see a shrink, Louise said bluntly.
Why don't we take her on a vacation? It seemed like a nice idea to Jan, who had an easy time taking time off from the gallery, but Louise didn't see how she could leave her children.
Maybe in September, when they're back in school. We could take her to Paris.
Sounds good to me, Louise said, but when they suggested it to Amanda at lunch, she immediately shook her head, and said she couldn't.
I couldn't possibly get away now, she said firmly, I still have too much to do for the estate. I don't want that hanging over my head forever. But they all knew it was an excuse. She just didn't want to rejoin the world of the living, not without Matthew.
Let the lawyers take care of it, Mom, Lou said practically, they do anyway. It would do you good to get away.
She hesitated for a long moment, and then shook her head as tears filled her eyes again, and she was honest with them. I don't want to. I'd feel too guitly.
For what? Spending a little money? You can certainly afford a trip to Paris. Or many, many of them, as they all knew. That was not the issue. But the real problem was far deeper.
It's not that, I just ' I just feel that I don't have the right to do something like that without Matthew' . Why should I go out and kick up my heels? Why should I have a good time? She began to sob, but she had to say it, as both girls watched her. Why am I still alive and he isn't? It's so unfair. Why did it have to happen? She had survivor guilt, and neither of them had ever heard her say it.
It just happened, Mom, Jan said gently. It just did. It wasn't your fault, or his, or anyone's. It was just horrible rotten luck, but you have to go on living ' for yourself ' for us ' just think about it. If you don't want to go to Paris, we'll go to New York for a few days, or San Francisco. But you have to do something. You can't just give up on life, Mom. Daddy wouldn't have wanted you to do that. But it was obvious, just talking to her on the drive home, that she wasn't ready to do it. She was still too deep in mourning for her husband to even want to go on living, or think about doing anything constructive or amusing.
How's she doing? Paul asked when he flew back from New York on Sunday night, and Jan drove him home from the airport.
She isn't. She's a total mess. Lou thinks she should be on Prozac. I don't know what I think. It's as if she's tried to bury herself with Daddy.
Maybe that was what he would have wanted. Maybe she knows that.
You sound just like my sister, Jan said, looking out the window, and then back at him. I want to ask you something. She said it so solemnly that he smiled at her. He was happy to see her after the trip to New York. He had really missed her.
Sure. You want me to fix her up with my father? No problem. I'll arrange it. He'd love it. The idea was so outrageous that even Jan laughed, but an instant later, her eyes were serious again, and whatever it was, he could sense that it was important to her.
I have something else in mind, she said nervously, not sure how to broach it to him, but desperate to convince him.
Spit it out, Jan. I'm waiting.
I want both of us to go to the doctor. The specialist. It's been six months since the last time we talked about it, and nothing has happened. She looked earnest and terrified as she asked, but Paul looked less than sympathetic.
Christ, that again. You never let up, do you? I've been working on the biggest film deal of my career for the past six months, and all you can think about is a baby. No wonder it hasn't happened, Jan. I've been on airplanes more than I've been home. How can you say we have a problem? To her, it sounded like denial. There were always excuses, plausible things to blame it on, but the bottom line was she hadn't gotten pregnant and they had tried more than he was admitting.
I just want to know if something is wrong. Maybe we're both fine, or maybe it's me. I want to know so we can deal with it. That's all, is that so much to ask? Her eyes filled with tears as she said it, and he sighed, looking at her.
Why don't you have him check you out? And by the time he does, you'll probably be pregnant. But she no longer thought so, it had been just over a year and a half since they started trying, and even her gynecologist was concerned now, and had urged her to explore it further, if she was serious about having a baby. She didn't tell Paul she had been to see the specialist alone three weeks before, and so far he had found nothing wrong with her, which meant that Paul had to go now.
Will you go too, after I do?
Maybe was all he would commit to, and with that, he turned the radio on a little too loud, and Jan stared sadly out the window. It was beginning to seem hopeless to her, especially given Paul's attitude.
By August, the specialist had confirmed to her that there was nothing wrong with her, and that either his sperm and her eggs were incompatible in some way, or perhaps the problem, if there was one, was her husband's. But when she brought it up again, Paul was furious with her, he didn't want to be pressured. It was a bad time for him, his big deal was falling through, and he was sick to death of having sex on schedule, and then having her get hysterical two weeks later when she found she wasn't pregnant.
Just forget it for a while! he shouted at her one night when she wanted him to make love to her because the time was right. And then he went out for a drink with his father. Jack was seeing someone new, an actress everyone had heard of, and he was in the papers again, almost daily. He also wanted more than ever for Paul to come into the business with him, which as far as Paul was concerned was out of the question. He felt as though everyone in his life wanted something from him.
And in September, Louise and Jan tried to talk Amanda into a trip again, but got nowhere. She had lost fourteen pounds, and looked too thin, and she was still depressed and going nowhere. And by December, both daughters were panicked.
We've got to do something, Jan said frantically on the phone to Louise one afternoon, two weeks after Thanksgiving, which had been ghastly. Their mother had cried all through the meal, and she was in such dismal shape, she had even upset the children. I can't stand it anymore.
Maybe we should just leave her alone, Louise said philosophically. Maybe this is how she wants to spend the rest of her life without Daddy. Who are w
e to decide it should be different?
We're her children, and we can't just let her live like this. I won't let her.
Then you figure out something. She doesn't want to hear it from me. She never does. You're the favorite. YDU go to her house every day and slip pills into her orange juice. I think she has a right to live any way she wants to.
Louise, she's dying, for chrissake, Jan said miserably. Can't you see what's happening to her? She has completely given up on life. She might as well have died with Daddy.
I don't have the answers, Jan. She's a grown woman, and I'm not a psychiatrist. And frankly, I'm sick to death of watching her feel sorry for herself. I hate seeing her, I hate listening to her. It's pathetic, but she loves it. She's wallowing in guilt because she's alive, and Daddy isn't. So let her. Maybe in some sick way she's happy.
I won't let her do it, Jan insisted.
You can't bring her to life again, Jan. She has to want to do it, and she doesn't. Face it. For once in her life, she's in control of her own life, and maybe this is how she wants to live it. At least Daddy's not telling her what to do now.
You make him sound like a monster, Jan complained.
He was sometimes. To me anyway.
As usual, the sisters couldn't agree on anything.
And the week before Christmas, Paul and Jan got an invitation from Paul's father to come to a Christmas bash at Julie's. Jan wasn't in the mood for it this year. Paul was still refusing to see the specialist, and Jan was depressed about it, and worried about her mother. But Paul said his father's feelings would be hurt if they didn't make an effort to at least drop in at the party.
Why don't you go without me? Jan said to Paul when the morning of the party came. She just didn't feel like going. I promised my mother I'd come by to see her this afternoon, and I'll probably feel even worse once I see her. She was sliding steadily downhill from life to death, and watching her do it was driving Jan crazy. She felt entirely helpless to stop her.
Why don't you bring your mother with you? he suggested offhandedly as he left for work, and Jan looked at him with total irritation.
Haven't you listened to anything I've said to you for the past year? She's depressed, she's losing weight, she's not seeing anyone. She's just sitting there waiting to die, for chrissake. Do you really think she'd come to one of your father's jazzy parties? You're dreaming.
Maybe it would do her good. Ask her at least. He said it with a smile, and Jan wanted to throw something at him. He just didn't get it.
You don't know my mother.
Just ask her.
I might as well ask her to take all her clothes off and run naked through the streets of Bel Air, for chrissake.
At least the neighbors would be happy. Even depressed, she was still a spectacular-looking woman. He had even had a crazy idea about asking her to be in his next movie, but he was afraid to ask Jan what she thought about it. He already knew what she'd tell him. Anyway, tell her my father would be thrilled if she'd come. It would lend the store respectability, he teased, as he kissed her good-bye, and in spite of herself, she let him. She was deeply upset with him for still not seeing the doctor about their inability to have a baby, and she was beginning to think, and had for a while, that there would never be children in their future. In some ways, she was almost as depressed as her mother, she just didn't show it, but most days she felt as bad as her mother.
But when she saw Amanda that afternoon, it broke Jan's heart to see her. She looked thin and tired and pale and as though she had nothing left to live for. At fifty, Amanda felt as though her life were over. Jan tried everything, suggested everything she could think of, she cajoled, she begged, she threatened, she told her that if she didn't pull herself together soon, she and Louise would come and stay with her and drag her out of the house if they had to.
You girls have better things to do with your time than worry about me. How is Paul's new movie? She always changed the subject, and the focus of the conversation, to something else, but by the end of the afternoon, Jan was so upset she was actually angry with her, and she said so.
You know, you make me mad as hell. You have everything to be grateful for, a good life, a beautiful home, two daughters who love you, and all you can do is sit here and feel sorry for yourself and cry over Daddy. Don't you even love us, Mom? Can't you think of anyone but yourself for once? Don't you see how worried we are? Christ, that's all I ever think about anymore. That and the fact that I'm never going to have children. And without meaning to, she was suddenly crying and her mother had her arms around her, and was holding her, and apologizing for the pain and concern she'd caused them. They were both crying, but for once, the things Jan had said were cathartic, and her mother actually looked a little better. You don't even wear makeup anymore, Mom. You don't dress. Your hair looks awful. It felt good to be honest with her, and for once Amanda laughed through her tears and looked in the mirror appraisingly. And what she saw there was not pleasant. What they both saw in the mirror was a beautiful woman, sad and pale and neglected. And suddenly Jan decided to try Paul's tactic. She told her mother about Jack's party that night at Julie's.
Go there? To the store?' As Jan had predicted she would, Amanda looked horrified at the suggestion. That's crazy.
So is what you've done to yourself in the past year. Come on, Mommy, do it for me. You won't know anyone. Just put on a dress and some makeup and we'll go together. It would make Paul really happy.
I'll go out to dinner with you both one night. He'd like that. I'll take you to Spago's.
I want you to come out with me now. You don't have to stay long. Five minutes. Just make the effort. For me ' for Lou ' for Daddy ' he wouldn't want to see you like this, Mom. I really believe that. She nearly held her breath as she looked at her mother. She was absolutely certain that there was no way her mother would go with her, but Amanda stood very still, watching her for a long moment, uncertain.
Do you really think your father would want me to do it? she asked, as Jan nodded slowly. It was amazing how much that still meant to her.
I do, Mom. It was a lie, but she wanted her mother to believe it, and then, nodding slowly, Amanda turned on her heel and walked into her bedroom, as Jan followed, in amazement. She didn't dare ask her mother what she was doing. But Amanda had marched into her closet, and Jan could hear rustling and the shifting of dresses. It was a full five minutes before she emerged again, carrying a somber black one.
What do you think of this? she asked, as Jan looked at her wide-eyed, unable to believe she'd done it. She had finally gotten through to her, and had somehow managed to dynamite her out of her house and her husband's grave. It was beyond amazing.
I think it's a little severe, don't you? She followed her mother back inside, afraid to discourage her completely, but the dress was really depressing. How about this one? She pointed to a purple one she knew her mother loved, but her father had loved it too, and Amanda shook her head the moment Jan showed it to her. Instead she chose a pretty navy blue wool dress that had always been too tight and now molded her figure beautifully, and was much younger-looking than the first one. It was, in its own way, as distinguished as she was, and she looked like the star she had once been as she tried it on in front of the mirror. She put on a pair of navy blue high-heel pumps, and a pair of sapphire earrings, and combed her hair back in the smooth knot that had been her signature in many of her pictures, and she put so little makeup on Jan couldn't even see it. Maybe a little more, Mom? What do you think? Amanda looked at herself appraisingly, into it now, and conceded.
Maybe just a little. I don't want to look like a hooker.
I think that would take some real work actually, more than we have time for. Jan smiled in pleasure as she looked at her mother. She looked spectacular, and like the woman she had known and loved all her life, not the scarecrow she had become in the past year, as she mourned her husband.
What do you think? Amanda asked nervously. Do I look like me, or the sad sack I've bee
n? There were tears glistening in her eyes as she said it.
You look like you, Mom, Jan said with tears in her own eyes, grateful to whatever Fates had finally convinced her mother. Oh God, I love you, she said, as she held her. Amanda blew her nose daintily in a handkerchief, touched up her lipstick again with a practiced hand, and then put the few things she needed into a navy handbag, and looked admiringly at her daughter. Jan was wearing a red wool dress she loved and wore every Christmas, and standing side by side in red and blue, they looked almost like sisters.
You're a good girl, Jan, and I love you, she whispered, as they headed toward the front door. Amanda still couldn't believe she'd let Jan talk her into this, but she was determined now to do it. We won't stay long though, will we? she asked nervously as she grabbed a mink coat from the closet in the front hall. She hadn't worn it since her husband's funeral, but she didn't let herself think of that now. She was doing this for her daughter. I don't want to stay more than a few minutes.
I'll bring you home whenever you want, Mom. I promise.
All right then, she said, looking surprisingly young and vulnerable as she followed Jan through the front door, and as though to say good-bye to someone who wasn't there, she glanced over her shoulder for just an instant, paused, and then closed the door softly behind her.
Chapter Three
The preparations for the party at the store had gone on since early that morning. There were garlands over the doors, and wreaths in all the windows. They closed at four o'clock exactly, and there was a beautiful Christmas tree, all decorated in silver. Jack was pleased when he saw it.
I know they're not politically correct anymore. But I love 'em. This one's a beauty. The store was sparkling as he looked around. There were bars in three locations, and cases of French Champagne chilling in the kitchen. And he had hired four musicians to play music, to liven up the atmosphere, but not for dancing. They were expecting two hundred people. It was one of their more exclusive parties, for only their best customers, and a list of celebrities that Jack knew would be there. Unlike their not showing up at most events, they always came to Jack's parties. Everybody loved him, and coming to parties at Julie's.
Special Delivery (1997) Page 3