Raven stared at her in astonishment. “Why would you want to do that?”
“I’d like to see how Jimmy would react. He always thought of me as a little kid he knew in school. He was fond of me, but more the way a brother would be toward a younger sister. What if he met me and I were a totally different woman? Would he feel differently? I’d be safe from Kirk, too. He wouldn’t try to make me go back to him by threatening to fire Jimmy. Nobody would know me.”
“Then—you’re still in love with Jimmy?”
Lilly’s hand instinctively moved to the gold locket. “I—I’m not sure, Raven. I do love Jimmy. I always have. But am I in love with him? Maybe I would have been if Kirk hadn’t come into my life. It’s a question I can’t answer. But I have this eerie feeling that fate has taken a hand in all this. I’m being offered another chance with Jimmy....”
“You mean you’d go back to San Francisco, arrange to meet Jimmy and let him believe you were a total stranger?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t think he’d recognize you?”
Lilly opened the locket. “Look at my picture, the way I was before the plastic surgery. Then look at me now. What do you think?”
Raven studied the small photograph thoughtfully. “There’s a drastic change, no question about it. And with a different hair color....” She nodded. “You’re right; I doubt if anyone would know you are really Lilly Remington.”
There was a moment’s silence as Raven chewed her bottom hp thoughtfully. Then she said, “Lilly, you’ve been through a dreadful experience. Aside from the wreck, the temporary amnesia and the plastic surgery, you had the shock of discovering your husband was still carrying on a long-standing affair with another woman. You must feel rejected, heartbroken and lonely. Is that why you’re turning back to Jimmy?”
Lilly sighed. “Perhaps. I—I really don’t know, Raven. Maybe that’s one reason I want to go back to Jimmy as a different woman. I can hide behind my new identity. It’s a kind of protection. As Lilly Parker, all life gave me was heartbreak. I’d like to start all over as a different woman. That may be part of it. But I’d really like to find out how Jimmy would treat me if I were somebody besides little Lilly Parker, the hometown girl he knew like a kid sister. Who knows, maybe Jimmy would really fall in love with me and want to marry me. Then I’d have a whole new life with Jimmy. Maybe it would be a way of fate making my childhood dreams come true after all.”
“All right! Suppose Jimmy did fall in love with you under these circumstances. Could you marry him knowing you were still married to another man? Would you spend the rest of your life masquerading as another woman?”
“Oh, of course I couldn’t do that. Eventually, I’d have to tell Jimmy the truth...and deal with all those problems when the time came. But right now all I can think of is that life has given me the opportunity to see Jimmy again as often as I like and Kirk can’t do anything to stop me. He couldn’t try to get me to go back to him on the threat of putting Jimmy’s job and band in jeopardy if I refused, because he wouldn’t know who I am.”
Raven was slowly shaking her head. “It sounds absolutely wild, but I can see you have your mind made up to do this crazy thing!”
Later that evening, she revealed her plans to Glenn Marshall. “I know all this sounds a bit flaky, Glenn, but I want to give it a try.”
“But how will you live out there?” Glenn demanded. “If you’re no longer drawing on the resources of Kirk Remington’s wife, you won’t have any money.”
“I have a little money in a private account in a San Francisco bank in my maiden name. It’s enough to get me back out there and enough for me to live on for a while. Then I can get a job. A pianist with my experience can always find a job in some restaurant or cocktail lounge.”
“Well, I suppose I can’t talk you out of it,” Glenn sighed. Then he took her hands warmly in his. “Just remember, you always have friends here who love you—”
* * * * * * *
A few days later, Lilly flew to the West Coast. In San Francisco, she learned that Jimmy and his band had gone to Sacramento for the big spring Dixieland jazz festival held in that city, so she took a bus to Sacramento for the Memorial Day weekend.
Sacramento was in a holiday mood to match the happy music filling the streets. Most of the festivities were taking place in “Old Sacramento,” a section covering several blocks that had been preserved in its original state. The cobblestone streets, board sidewalks and false-front buildings were relics from the Old West of the last century, when this frontier village had been headquarters for the pony express.
The old section had been blocked off from vehicular traffic so sightseers and jazz fans could fill the streets. Shuttle busses, running every ten minutes, transported visitors from the main section of the city.
Many of the spectators added their personal touch of color by dressing in costumes suited to the mood of traditional jazz. Lilly, caught up in the excitement of the jazz celebration combined with her own personal anticipation of seeing Jimmy again, fell into an exuberant, uninhibited mood. In a costume shop she found a red, fringed, “roaring twenties” Charleston dress.
Before leaving Albuquerque, she had died her hair chestnut and had had it restyled. When she tried on the red, fringed dress, she stood before a full-length mirror, filled with amazement at the stranger who gazed back at her. She still had not grown accustomed to the astounding change in her appearance, a change that had become even more dramatic by her turning into a brunette. The plastic surgery had changed the shape of her eyes, giving them a slightly exotic, oriental shape. But she was aware of changes that went deeper than the surface; the shock and trauma she had been through in the past months had given her a new maturity and sense of destiny.
But this was a time and place to put aside the dark thoughts of the past weeks. The jaunty Charleston dress put her in a daring mood. She held onto the feeling as she caught a shuttle bus and joined a crowd of happy jazz fans wearing their Sacramento Jazz Jubilee emblems.
The musical carnival began with a parade down the main street of Old Sacramento. Afterward, the jazz bands would perform on mobile stages in the streets as well as at the Delta Queen Courtyard, Freeway Gardens, the Firehouse Courtyard, and dozens of other restaurants, bars, clubs and outdoor stages. There would be a flood of music from early morning until long past midnight.
Lilly stood on the curb, joy bubbling up in her at the beat of the happy music coming down the street. A high-spirited jazz aficionado in a derby hat, holding a pink parasol, cavorted in front of the first truckload of musicians who rolled along the street playing Muskrat Ramble. Some groups like the Resurrection Jazz Band came marching along in traditional New Orleans style. Another group was perched on a fire truck.
Suddenly, Lilly’s attention funneled to a flatbed truck in the parade. Everything else was shut out. Across the truck was a red, fringed banner with foot-high gold letters spelling out “The Jimmy LaCross Jazz Band.” And there was Jimmy himself, standing high and proud, playing as he’d never played before. He tilted his horn toward the blue sky. The sun glinted on the golden bell of his trumpet as he blew his notes right up to the angels.
Around her, Lilly heard the crowd go wild, applauding furiously as Jimmy passed them. Her heart filled to the bursting point with pride and love. It was obvious that Jimmy was making a big name for himself in West Coast jazz circles. Everyone seemed to know him. According to the program, his band was one of the headliners at the Jubilee.
Suddenly the sacrifices she had made for Jimmy became worthwhile. He wouldn’t be enjoying this success if it were not for her. Even if no one else knew that, she knew it, and it filled her with a sense of worth.
More than thirty jazz bands, some as far away as Germany, England and Japan, would be playing for the throngs of Dixieland jazz fans during the festival weekend. But Lilly was concerned with only one. She consulted her Jazz Jubilee program, marking the locations where Jimmy’s band would perform.
&nb
sp; His first performance was on a stage at an outdoor restaurant patio that afternoon. Lilly was there early, securing a seat at a table directly in front of the bandstand. She felt a singing thrill of excitement inside. When Jimmy arrived, her heart gave a thump.
Once, as the band was assembling on the stage, Jimmy glanced in her direction. He looked again, staring straight at her. Lilly’s heart pounded. Had he seen through her masquerade?
But he turned to the band, and she breathed more easily.
His group started with a rollicking performance of The Dixieland One-Step. The crowd responded with unrestrained enthusiasm. It was a time to discard inhibitions and hang loose. People were clapping to the beat, dancing between the tables.
Lilly was swept up in the joy of the moment. For the first time since the crash of her small plane, she was able to shake off the dark cloud of worry and depression. Happiness bubbled through her veins. She felt reckless and daring. The happy, infectious rhythm of the Dixieland jazz was a tonic for the soul. Impulsively, she jumped to her feet. Her “roaring twenties” dress was made for dancing. When she did an impromptu Charleston step, she heard laughter and applause around her, urging her on.
The jazz number came to a rousing climax and ended. She realized the band, too, was applauding her dance. Suddenly red-faced with mortification, she sat down. What had possessed her to suddenly become such an exhibitionist?
But the band quickly romped into another happy tune, and Lilly’s wave of self-consciousness evaporated. Her heart filled and tears blurred her eyes as she watched the sidemen on the band that she’d grown so fond of: Skinny Lang strumming his banjo, Cemetery Wilson playing his driving style drums, lifting and carrying the band, Charlie Neal’s fingers racing over the keys of his clarinet, and short, tubby Ted Riley, bouncing around the stage as the slide of his trombone pumped out vigorous tailgate glissandos.
In front of them all stood her childhood hero, Jimmy LaCross, searing the air with the cutting edge of his brilliant, high notes.
When the group concluded their performance, Jimmy stepped down from the stage and walked directly over to Lilly’s table. Again she froze.
“Hi,” Jimmy grinned with the easy warmth he had with people.
Lilly touched her tongue to her lips. “Hello,” she murmured.
“That was neat Charleston. You’re quite a dancer.”
She swallowed hard. Her cheeks felt warm. “I got carried away by the music. You’re—you’re very good.”
He smiled again. “You’re a jazz fan?”
She nodded.
“We have some record albums on sale over at the record shop if you’re interested.”
“Yes—I am. I’ll—I’ll buy one and get you to autograph it for me.”
“Sure.” He was staring at her again in a way that made her uneasy. “Have I seen you before somewhere?”
“N—no. I don’t think so.”
“Funny. There’s something kind of familiar about you...but I can’t put my finger on it. Guess I’m mistaken. Are you going to be here for the weekend?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe you’ll hear us again. We’re playing tonight at the Firehouse Courtyard. Bring that record album around and I’ll autograph it for you.”
“I will,” she promised.
He smiled, winked and walked off into the crowd, whistling. He was instantly surrounded by fans, cut off from her view.
She let her breath out, feeling her tense body relax. Jimmy hadn’t recognized her! The masquerade was working. But he was interested in her...in the new version of Lilly Parker!
She went straight to the record shop. She was delighted to find that Jimmy’s dreams were coming true. He was becoming recognized. His band was being invited to jazz festivals. They were starting to record.
He was becoming well known on the West Coast. Obviously, his career had flourished during the time she’d been gone.
She bought the albums. That night she was again seated in the front row at his second concert. Afterward, she took the albums backstage. “Remember me?” she asked, when she found him.
“Sure,” he chuckled. “The lady Charleston dancer. Hey, I see you bought our albums.”
“Yes.” She held them out, her gaze lingering on his face, growing soft and tender. Her love for Jimmy swept over her in a shimmering, golden wave of emotion. It was a reprise of the exact feeling she’d had when she was a tongue-tied little school girl, and he had fastened the gold locket around her neck. How stunned he would be if he knew that same locket was hiding under her clothing at this very minute!
He took out a pen. “How do you want me to autograph these? What’s your name?”
She was prepared for this moment. She gave him the name she planned to use as part of her masquerade, “Billie Smith.”
“Billie Smith,” he repeated, and signed the albums, “To Billie Smith with Love, Jimmy LaCross.”
When he handed them back, he asked, “Where do you live, Billie?”
“San Francisco.”
He grinned. “That’s cool. We have a steady gig at The Landing. Maybe that’s where I’ve seen you.”
“No,” she murmured. “But maybe I’ll come hear you there sometime.”
“You do that, for sure. Promise?”
“You can count on it,” she assured him.
Her plan was working, she thought with heart-quickening excitement. Jimmy hadn’t recognized her. And he was looking at her with definite male interest. She didn’t think her new face was as pretty as the one belonging to Lilly Parker before the accident. But evidently it was attractive enough to catch his attention. Would he fall in love with her new face—with “Billie Smith?”
After the exciting weekend in Sacramento, she returned to San Francisco. She had rented a room there. It was a modest place, a far cry from the luxurious Victorian mansion she had shared with Kirk Remington. But she was satisfied and comfortable enough. The ceilings were high, the closet spacious. And the bay window looked down on the trolley car track. All during the day, she could hear the cheerful jangle of bells as the cable cars rumbled past under her window.
After she was settled, she wrote long letters to Raven and Glenn Marshall. To Raven, she confided her feelings about seeing Jimmy again. She described the Sacramento jazz concerts, and the thrill of coming face to face with Jimmy LaCross. “My masquerade is working!” she wrote. “Jimmy didn’t recognize me. Now I plan to visit The Landing, where he’s playing. I plan to do a little subtle flirting! Pray for me, Raven....”
To Glenn Marshall, she wrote, “I’m happy and comfortable in my new quarters here. I have enough reserve so money is not an immediate problem. But I plan to start looking for work before it gets to be a problem!”
She had success almost immediately in that area. Before the first week was over, she had auditioned for a job at a piano bar at a businessmen’s dinner club that had recently opened. She would play from seven-thirty to eleven-thirty in the evening with Sunday and Monday nights off. Since Jimmy’s band played until one A.M., she could hurry over to The Landing any night when she got off work to catch the last hour of his performance.
She used her new name, Billie Smith, at her job. The name was on a placard at the entrance to the cocktail lounge. “Billie Smith at the Piano.”
When the matter of supporting herself was taken care of, she made plans to see Jimmy again. Her strategy required a suitable dress. She spent a day shopping and decided on a red knit that was ideal for a brunette in the chilly San Francisco climate. The fabric was soft and lustrous. The design was classic and could be dressed up or down depending upon the occasion. It was a pullover dress with a ruffled edge around a “V” neckline and surplice front. The shirred, drop-front shoulders joined long sleeves with ruffled, elasticized wrists.
The dress made her feel utterly feminine. She stared at her reflection in the fitting room mirror with a sense of unreality. As difficult as it had been for her to adjust to the new appearance of her face, living a
s a brunette after being a blonde all her life was equally difficult. However, she had to admit that the darker hair went well with the new, slightly oriental slant of her eyes.
That night she caught a cab to The Landing when she finished her stint at the piano. It happened to be a slow night and she was able to find a table not far from the band. But it soon became obvious that Jimmy was not going to see her. She had to make herself more obvious. The chance didn’t come until the band played its closing theme for the evening. Jimmy left the stand and stopped at the bar for a nightcap.
Lilly gathered her courage and moved to where he was sitting. “Good evening, Mr. LaCross,” she murmured.
He turned. “Hi.” For a moment his face was blank. Then he exclaimed, “Hey, you’re the Charleston dancer.” He grinned.
As usual, when she was near him, warmth stole through her heart. “So you remembered me.”
“Sure. Are you kidding? A neat-looking chick like you? Why wouldn’t I remember? How did you like the records?”
“Fine.”
He glanced over her shoulder. “You, ah—here with a date?”
“No,” she said, looking directly at him.
He grinned again. “What’s the matter with the guys in this city? How did they overlook you?”
She smiled, growing warmer at the obvious interest he was showing.
Jimmy said, “Well, under the circumstances, how about having a drink with me, then?”
“All right.”
She took a seat beside him.
He ordered a drink, then turned to her, giving her a thoughtful look again. “I’ve been trying to think where I saw you before. It’s been bugging me ever since I met you in Sacramento. Are you certain we never met before?”
She looked down at her drink. “Certain,” she murmured. “You’re mistaken, Mr. LaCross.”
“Hey. All my friends call me Jimmy.”
“All right—Jimmy.”
“Let me see, you’re—”
“Billie Smith.”
“Sure. I remember now.”
They chatted over the drinks. Lilly was amused at the obvious line Jimmy was handing her. He hadn’t changed since high school. He still radiated charm, as irresistible as ever. The Irish would say he had kissed the Blarney Stone.
Tender Deception: A Novel of Romance Page 18