A Taste of Fame

by Linda Evans Shepherd

  “Did you see where the Twin Towers stood?” Evie asked, pointing south.

  “Where?”

  She led me to look toward lower Manhattan, and we stared in silence at a space void of its former splendor.

  Finally, I checked my watch. “We’d probably better get going if we’re going to hit Macy’s. We have an appointment in an hour and a half, you know.”

  “We do? With whom?”

  “I found out which prop rental house our studio uses.”

  “Prop rental? What’s that?”

  “It’s everything you could imagine, and it’s all for rent. I’ve snagged a tour so we can preselect some linens and china, floral arrangements, and backgrounds for the parties we have to throw.”

  Evie put the lens cover on her camera, which still hung around her neck, and we headed back toward the elevators. “Can we do that? I mean, can we shop ahead for the contest?”

  “Sure,” I said. “We’re only window shopping anyway. Though, we are building our New York Rolodex. Besides, we can’t cheat, since we don’t even know what our party themes will be. So why not play around with a few theme ideas and preselect some table décor to go with them on the off chance we can use them. We’ll photograph our ideas and jot down some notes. Then, when and if the time comes, all we’ll have to do is pick up the phone to order what we need.”

  “I have to hand it to you, Lisa Leann. You can’t get through a subway turnstile, but when it comes to catering, you’ve got what it takes.”

  Soon we were back on the busy sidewalks and on our way to the world’s largest store. Macy’s turned out to be delightful. My only complaint was that Evie kept wandering off. That probably wouldn’t have bothered me if I weren’t still feeling a little anxious from our previous separation.

  As it turned out, Evie, who claimed not to be a shopper, would become so absorbed in whatever she was examining that I think a herd of elephants could have danced next to her for all she’d notice. She got lost twice, once in the ladies sportswear department and then again in the lingerie department. I have to admit that every time she failed to answer me when I called her name, it gave my heart a bit of a patter.

  “Didn’t you hear me?” I’d ask.

  She’d look surprised. “Sorry, I was in my own little world.”

  This was a side to Evie I hadn’t seen before. No wonder she’d left me on the subway.

  All too soon, Evie and I had to agree that an hour was certainly not enough time to enjoy Macy’s and its ten floors of merchandise. But even though our time was limited, we made use of our credit cards, leaving with shopping bags full of items. For me, I’d found the perfect soufflé pan, a couple of bracelets, and a nice pink jacket with a matching chiffon skirt covered in pink roses with lime green leaves. Evie bought some practical underwear as well as a sexy red nightgown. “This is as much for Vernon as it is for me,” she said with a giggle.

  I rolled my eyes. “I don’t need to know the details.”

  “If we continue to be roomies when the girls come, maybe we can trade off when our husbands visit. You can spend a night with Henry and I’ll take Vernon. Henry is planning to come, right?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. He’s pretty upset that I went to New York without his blessing.”

  “You did?” Evie asked.

  I swallowed, then nodded.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think I can. Not right now, anyway.”

  Silently we walked outside the store and onto the sidewalk. As if to cheer me up, Evie stopped and splurged on two paper bags full of a street vender’s roasted and glazed almonds. We began to munch the warm, sweet nuts as we hailed a cab. Soon my spirits lifted as we watched a small portion of New York speed by.

  Fifteen minutes later, Evie and I walked through the revolving doors of a swanky black marble building checkered in glass windows. Once inside, we took the elevator up to the 25th floor. As we walked down the green-carpeted hall toward the prop rental studio, I explained, “Besides table decorations, this store has a pretty large supply of props, many of which were used in some of the movies shot here. We’ll make note of some of those too.”

  “This will be fun,” Evie admitted.

  We were met by a Mr. Kenny Mitch, a slight man in his early thirties. He was more cultured and less manly than the fellows back home, and he was very enthusiastic about his work. He rose from a large oak desk almost camouflaged in ivy as we entered his suite. “Team Potluck! Ladies, I recognize you from the show! Come, let me show you the linens.”

  Following him, we entered a room filled with miniature table settings of extraordinary linens and china. My heart just melted with the beauty around us. “Evie, look!”

  Evie slowly did a 360. “I am looking.”

  “Let’s spread out and select some ideas for themed parties.”

  “Like what?” Evie asked.

  “You think ‘birthdays’ and ‘weddings,’ and I’ll think ‘glamour’ and ‘movie themes.’ ” I pulled a couple of pens and yellow pads from my purse. “If you see something you like or get any other ideas, make a note, then photograph it.”

  Soon we were matching laces, china, floral arrangements, linens, and chiffons to spectacular place settings. I created one gorgeous look after the other, notating and photographing every detail. Occasionally, Evie would call out “Oh, my” when she found something particularly beautiful.

  “Lisa Leann, look,” she said as I turned to see a table graced with a lavender chiffon with silver polka dots topper over a purple linen tablecloth. The setting included china that looked like pale lavender presents tied with silver bows. The table was topped off with purple linen napkins and a glorious silver tea service and beautiful arrangements of silk lilacs and rosebuds. “Add a tea party category to your list,” I said, running back to layer a table with gold lamé and bronze chiffon. I topped it with elegant crystal goblets and golden china plates that gleamed like mirrors. Lovely!

  Hours later, as we were leaving with our ideas, Mr. Mitch handed us a thick catalogue.

  “What’s this?” I asked.

  “It’s our new catalogue of props back at our warehouse. I thought you might want to study up for some possible backdrops.”

  I cracked it open to see whole safari, jungle, shipboard, and throne room sets.

  “Wow,” I said. “Evie and I will be sure to study this.”

  Mr. Mitch handed us yet another catalogue. “You may also want to check out our costumes as well.”

  I nodded in happy agreement. “You’re the best,” I said as his blue eyes twinkled.

  “Just doing my job,” he replied.

  Later, as Evie and I walked down the sidewalk, our arms stretched as we carried our growing supply of sacks and loot, Evie asked, “What more are we going to do to get prepared for the show?”

  “I’m planning to take us to Manganaros, a famous Italian market, to sample their prosciutto and fresh canapés. We’re also going to visit the fresh food vendors of Chinatown so we can locate some herbs, seafood, and fruits. I mean, we’ve got to have a few secret ingredients for our dishes, you know.”

  “Uh-huh. So where to next?”

  “Oh!” I grinned. “That’s a surprise, and it’s my treat. Just follow me.”

  Evangeline

  15

  Chinese Jam

  When it comes to surprises from Lisa Leann, what might happen next is anyone’s guess.

  By this time in our day we’d grown fairly adept at riding the subway, and—I might add—without getting separated. I was completely amazed at how one could zip from one end of Manhattan to the other and then back again in no time at all.

  At some point in my respite from tourism and as I waited on Lisa Leann to purchase a hot pretzel from a sidewalk vendor, I called Vonnie to share the day’s adventures. I was standing with my back against a building and my feet tucked close so as not to become roadkill by the pedestrians.

  “Yo
u got lost?” Vonnie cried when I told her of the early morning separation.

  “Not lost exactly, Vonnie—”

  “Oh, if Fred hears this he’ll never let me leave Summit View …”

  “Then don’t tell him.”

  “Have you told Vernon?”

  “I haven’t spoken to Vernon today, so no.”

  “Oh, good. Then don’t.”

  I squared my shoulders against the cool stone of the building behind me and arched my spine. “Well, Vonnie … I dunno …”

  “Listen, Evangeline. I’ve been married way longer than you. Do not tell Vernon. Has Lisa Leann told Henry?”

  I frowned as I glanced across the street to where the petite firecracker was squirting mustard on her pretzel. “No, and I doubt she will.” I hoped Vonnie caught the tension in my voice. If she did, I could tell her what Lisa Leann had told me about Henry. If she didn’t … well, I’d have no excuse. It would be too close to gossip. This was really a fine line.

  “Good. Keep it that way. Tell me about New York City.”

  I rattled on as fast as I could about what we’d managed to do in one short day. “Wait till you see this place, Vonnie. I know you lived in Los Angeles for a while, but believe me, this is a world unto itself. I’ve never seen anything like it. The Empire State Building … and Macy’s … and seeing the city from high above and from underneath.” I took a deep breath and sighed. Lisa Leann was now scooting up the crosswalk and heading my way. “Hey, I gotta go. Lisa Leann has her pretzel now, and she’s taking me somewhere, but she won’t tell me where.”

  “I worry about you two there alone in that city.”

  “We’re fine.”

  “You weren’t fine this morning.”

  “Well, if you don’t want me to tell Vernon and you don’t want Lisa Leann to tell Henry, then let’s the two of us not talk about it either.”

  “Oh, how I dread this trip.”

  “I know how you feel. I felt the same. But tell the girls it’s fabulous!”

  Lisa Leann made it back to me then and said, “Is that Vernon?”

  I shook my head. “Vonnie.” Then to Vonnie: “Okay, Lisa Leann is treating me to something and she won’t tell me what, so I have to go now.”

  “My, my. Hasn’t this trip just made you two the best of friends?”

  I cut my eyes to Lisa Leann, who was wolfing down her pretzel, savoring each mouthful by closing her eyes and seeming to sigh into it. With her eyes closed, I rolled mine. “Don’t get carried away, Von. See you in a few days.”

  I disconnected the call just as Lisa Leann’s eyes flew open. “Carried away by what? Is she overpacking? Did you tell her about the subway?”

  “Yes and she said not to tell Vernon or Henry.” I furrowed my brow. “You’ve got mustard on the corner of your mouth.”

  Lisa Leann’s tongue did a quick dart from side to side, and then she said, “Why shouldn’t we tell them? Because they’ll be upset that we didn’t spend the money?”

  “What money?”

  “The money for the cab.”

  “What cab?”

  Lisa Leann shook her head. “The cab we should have taken instead of the subway.”

  “Lisa Leann Lambert, you did not say one word this morning about taking a cab. You said we’d take the subway. And do not shake your head at me like I’m stupid.”

  This time she crinkled her nose. “I have no idea what you are talking about, Evangeline, but I’ll tell you this: we’ve got to learn to communicate better or we’ll be in a mess come time to do the show.” She pointed northward. “This way to my surprise.”

  We started walking. “All I’m saying is, why didn’t you say something this morning about taking a cab?”

  “Because this morning I wanted to take the subway. If we couldn’t afford a cab yesterday from the airport to the—oh! You’re talking about …” Lisa Leann began laughing. She stopped in midstream of the sidewalk in shoulder to shoulder human traffic and just cracked up laughing.

  I stopped too, but I wasn’t laughing. “I’m glad you think this is funny.”

  When she finally wheezed the laughing to its end she said, “You were talking about this morning on the subway and I was talking about yesterday on the subway.”

  “And you think that deserves this much laughter?”

  She looped her arm in mine. “Come on, Evie. Do you know what the Broadhurst Theatre is?”

  “No, but I’m sure you’ll tell me.”

  “You’re straight shootin’ I will. It’s nearly one hundred years old and it’s a legitimate Broadway theater. Helen Hayes has played there and Vincent Price and Rosalind Russell and … oh-oh! William Shatner. You know, the man who played on that outer space TV show.”

  “Star Trek?”

  “Yes, him. And … let me think … Marlo Thomas made her Broadway debut there and Joel Grey has performed there and Christopher Reeve before he was Superman and oh, yeah … Jane Seymour was in a play there that was performed over a thousand times and—”

  “So we’re going there, I take it?”

  Lisa Leann nearly burst apart she was so excited. “Yes!” Her arm squeezed mine.

  “Are any of those actors going to be there? Personally, I wouldn’t mind seeing Jane Seymour. I’ve always liked her.”

  “Well, no … but I’ll give you a hint as to what we’re going to see. It’s the longest running musical in history—”

  “The Sound of Music!”

  I felt Lisa Leann sigh deeply. “No … not The Sound of Music.”

  “I love that movie.”

  “Guess again.”

  We rounded a corner about that time, and I came to an abrupt stop. “Good heavens, where are we?”

  “This, dear Evie, is Times Square, and all these signs are called JumboTrons. We’ve been near it off and on all day, and believe me, it was a real effort not to drag you here earlier.”

  I allowed myself a moment to catch my breath. I’d seen it on television, of course. I’d even managed to stay up a time or two for Dick Clark’s New Year’s Rockin’ Eve, but I’d never experienced a sight such as this in person. Not since … well, since earlier that morning atop the Empire State Building. “Oh, Lisa Leann. Have you ever seen so many lights? And in so many colors? Even with it being just dusk, it’s amazing.”

  “Wait till you see it tonight when it’s completely pitch black dark.”

  “Is this where you’re taking me?”

  Lisa Leann pulled me forward. “No, but it’s close. We’re going to 44th Street. Come on. We’re going to see Les Misérables.”

  Well. Even I had heard of that. Dear me, wouldn’t Lizzie be jealous when I told her where Lisa Leann had taken me?

  Sunday morning came too soon. After our adventure at the Broadhurst Theatre, Lisa Leann and I moseyed on back to Times Square, where I treated her to dinner at a restaurant called Cosi, where we feasted on the most delicious Moroccan lentil soup I’ve ever tasted. Actually, the only Moroccan lentil soup I’ve ever tasted. New York was filled with cultural experiences, including Cosi’s famous flatbread. I’d never had any of that, either.

  When it came time to return to SoHo, I told my traveling companion, “I’m not taking the subway this late at night. Let’s grab a cab.”

  What I thought would be easy enough turned out to be nearly a nightmare. Cabs zipped up and down Times Square as though on a mission. Finally, after long minutes of no luck, some nice policeman said, “Head up to 9th Avenue. They’re easier to catch there.”

  Well, maybe it was easier for him, but let me tell you this: no cab on 9th Avenue wanted to take two middle-aged women to SoHo. Why, I couldn’t imagine until Lisa Leann said, “I think the fare won’t be good for them. It’s such a long way down there and then chances are they won’t have a fare back.”

  “Then look pitiful and beg,” I said. “There are homeless people starting to bunk down for the night around here, and I’m getting a little scared. What if someone tries to attack us?” />
  Lisa Leann patted me on the arm. “Don’t be scared, Evie. I’m here. I won’t let anyone hurt us.”

  I frowned down at her petite stature. “And what will you do, pray tell? Kick them in the knee?”

  “Of course not. But I’ll tell you what we both can do. We can do what I did this morning on the subway when you took off without me.”

  “I did not—”

  “Never mind. Let’s pray.”

  And so we did. We prayed right there in the middle of a sidewalk on 9th Avenue in New York City. And, minutes later, we were zooming toward SoHo in the backseat of a black Lincoln Town Car.

  “God sure answered us in style,” I told Lisa Leann later after we’d nicely tipped the cab driver.

  “God’s got class, I always say.”

  We hurried up to our room and repeated our performance from the night before. While Lisa Leann showered, I called Vernon. While I showered, Lisa Leann called Henry. At least I assume she did. I hope she did.

  Sunday morning we woke a little later than usual, and still it felt too early. My feet ached from all the walking of the day before. “We’re not spring chickens anymore, Lisa Leann,” I said to her as we locked our hotel room door and slipped down the narrow hallway and toward the stairs leading to the first floor.

  “I’m feeling you, sister.”

  “Feeling me? I beg your pardon.”

  “It’s what all the kids are saying these days. To ‘feel’ someone is to understand where they’re coming from.”

  “Oh.”

  “Lizzie taught me that.”

  We stepped into the lobby about that time, drawn into its antiquity by the aroma of fresh-brewed coffee. Several of the hotel guests were standing before the table, where it was being self-served, all of them in their pajamas. I was both curious and appalled.

  In silence, Lisa Leann and I prepared a cup to go and then skipped down the stairs and out the glass doors and onto the sidewalk, where we turned left. “I read about a little café just down the street,” Lisa Leann said. “It was in some of that hotel literature in our room.”

  I nodded in answer.