"Bettina." There was a long pause as Ivo set down his cup and slowly ran a hand through his white hair. He only did that when he felt very awkward, and she wondered why he should feel that way now. "It's a bit early to bring it up to you, darling, but we ought to meet with the lawyers this week." He felt his heart sink as she turned her wide green eyes to his.
"Why?"
"To discuss the will, and ... there are several other points of business that we ought to talk to them about," Justin had left him as executor, and the lawyers had already been clawing at him for two days.
"Why now? Isn't it too soon?" She looked puzzled as she stood and walked to the fire. She was feeling tired and restless all at the same time. She wasn't sure whether to run around the block a hundred fifty times or just go to bed and cry. But Ivo was looking distressingly businesslike as his eyes followed her to the fire.
"No, it's not too soon. There are some things you'll have to know, some decisions to be made. Some of it should get rolling now."
She sighed in answer and nodded as she went back to the couch. "All right. We'll see them, but I don't understand the rush." She looked at Ivo with a quiet smile and he nodded and reached out a hand. Even Ivo didn't know the full extent of what the lawyers had on their minds. But twelve hours later they did.
Ivo and Bettina looked at each other in shock. The lawyers looked at her gravely. No stock. No investments. No capital. In brief, there was no money. According to his attorneys, Justin hadn't been upset about it because he always expected things to "come around," but the turnaround had not yet come. In fact it hadn't come in several years, and he had been living on credit for too long. Everything he owned was heavily mortgaged or had been put up as collateral and it turned out that he had fabulous loans to repay. His last advances had all been spent, on cars--like the new Bentley, and then shortly afterward the 1934 Rolls--antiques, racehorses, women, trips, houses, furs, Bettina, himself. The winter before he had bought the country's most extravagant Thoroughbred from a friend. Two point seven million he had paid for it, the papers had said. In fact it had been slightly more, and the friend had allowed him to defer payment for a year. The year wasn't yet over, and tie debt was still unpaid. He knew he would cover it, there would be more advances, and he had his royalties, which never failed to come in, in six-figure checks. What Ivo and Bettina then learned as they sat there was that even his future royalties had been borrowed against, from some of his wealthier friends. He had borrowed to the hilt from everyone, bankers, as well as friends, against real property, future income, and dreams. What had happened to his investments, to the snatches of conversations she had heard about "sure things"? As the hours with the attorneys wore on, it became clear that there were no sure things, except his astronomical debts, they were sure. He had kept much of his borrowing private. He had dispensed with his investment advisers years ago, calling them fools. It became increasingly confusing and Bettina sat baffled and stunned. It was impossible to make heads or tails out of what they were saying except that it would take months to sort it all out and that the vast estate of the illustrious, charming, celebrated, much adored Justin Daniels amounted not to a king's ransom, but to a mountain of debt.
Bettina looked at Ivo in confusion, and he looked at her in despair. He felt as though he had just aged another ten years.
"And the houses?" Ivo looked at the senior attorney with fear.
"Well have to look into that, but I assume that they'll all have to be sold. We've been recommending that course of action to Mister Daniels for almost two years now. As a matter of fact it's quite possible that once we sell the houses, and ... er"--there was an embarassed cough--"several of the antiques and artifacts in Mister Daniels's New York apartment, it's possible that we will have brought matters back into the black."
"Will there be anything left?"
"That's difficult to say at the moment." But the look on his face told its own tale.
"What you're saying then"--Ivo's voice was tense and angry, and he wasn't sure if he was angrier at Justin or his lawyers--"is that after all is said and done, there won't be anything left except the apartment here in New York. No stocks, no bonds, no investments, nothing?"
"I believe that will prove to be correct." The elderly man fingered his glasses uncomfortably, while his junior partner cleared his throat and tried not to look at the slender young girl.
"Was there no provision made for Miss Daniels?" Ivo couldn't believe it.
But the lawyer spoke one word. "None."
"I see."
"Of course there was"--the senior partner checked some papers on his desk--"a sum of eighteen thousand dollars in Mister Daniels's checking account on the day he died. We have to clear probate of course, but we would be happy to advance a small sum of money to Miss Daniels in the interim, to enable her to pay whatever living expenses--" But Ivo was steaming by now.
"That won't be necessary." Ivo snapped closed his briefcase and picked up his coat. "Just how long do you think it will take to let us know where things stand?"
The two lawyers exchanged a glance. "About three months?"
"How about one?" Ivo's look was not one to quibble with, and unhappily the elder attorney nodded.
"We'll try. We do understand that the circumstances are somewhat trying for Miss Daniels. We'll do our very best."
"Thank you." Bettina shook hands with them and quickly left the office. Ivo said almost nothing on the way to the car, he only glanced anxiously again and again at her face. She was ivory-pale, but she seemed quiet and very much in control. Once they were in his car again, he raised the window between them and his driver and turned to her with a look of sorrow in his eyes. "Bettina, do you understand what just happened?"
"I think so." As he watched her he saw that even her lips were frighteningly pale. "It looks like I'm about to learn a few things about life."
As they drove up in front of her elaborate building he asked.
"Will you let me help you?"
She shook her head, kissed his cheek, and got out of the car.
He sat watching her until she had disappeared into the building, wondering what would happen to her now.
Chapter 5
The doorbell rang just as Bettina looked at her watch. His timing was perfect and she smiled as she ran to the door. She greeted him with a kiss and Ivo entered and bowed, looking very debonair in a black coat and a homburg. Bettina, on the other hand, was wearing a red flannel shirt and jeans.
"You're looking very lively this evening, Miss Daniels. How was your day?"
"Interesting. I spent the day with the man from Parke-Bernet." She smiled tiredly, and he thought for a moment how he missed seeing her in her usual elegant, clothes. She seemed to have abandoned her other wardrobe in the month since Justin had died. But she also hadn't gone anywhere, except to the lawyers, to hear more bad news. Now all she wanted was to get the hell out of the mess. She was about to start meeting with art dealers, real estate agents, antiquaries, jewelers, anyone and everyone who could take the goods off her hands and leave her with something with which to whittle away the debts.
"They're taking all of this stuff off my hands"--she waved vaguely at the antiques--"as well as everything out of the house in South Hampton and the one in Palm Beach. They've already had someone to look it all over. The furniture in the South of France I'm getting rid of over there, and"--she sighed absent-mindedly as she hung up his coat--"I think the house in Beverly Hills will sell with everything in it. Some Arab is buying the place, and he left everything he had in the Middle East. So it should work out well for both of us."
"Aren't you keeping anything?" Ivo looked appalled, but he was getting used to the feeling and she was getting used to the look on his face.
She shook her head with a small smile. "I can't afford to. I'm dealing with the national debt, Ivo. Four and a half million dollars is not exactly easy to wipe out. But I will." She smiled again, and something turned over near his heart. How could Justin do this t
o her? How could he not have known that something like this might happen, that she would be left to clean up his mess? The unfairness of it tore at Ivo's soul. "Don't look so worried, love." She was smiling at him now. "It'll all be sorted out one of these days."
"Yes, and in the meantime I sit here helplessly and watch you tear your life apart." It was hard to remember now that she was only nineteen. She looked and sounded so much older. But there was still an occasional look of mischief in her eyes.
"And what would you like to do, Ivo? Help me pack?"
"No, I wouldn't." He snapped at her, and then apologized with his eyes. But it was she who spoke first.
"I'm sorry. I know you want to help. I don't know.
I guess I'm just tired. I feel like this is never going to end.
"And when it does end, what then? I don't like your having given up school."
"Why? I'm getting an education right here. Besides, tuition is expensive."
"Bettina, stop that!" She sounded so bitter and there was suddenly something so jaded in her eyes, "I want you to promise me something."
"What's that?"
"I want you to promise me that when the worst of this is over, when you've taken care of the apartment, the furniture, whatever you have to do, you'll go away for a while, just to restore yourself and get some rest."
"You make it sound like I'm a hundred years old." And she didn't ask him how he thought she was going to pay for the trip. There was almost nothing anymore. She was cooking for herself in the vast kitchen, and she was not doing much else. She wasn't buying anything, going anywhere. In fact, just that morning, she had been thinking of selling her clothes. The evening clothes at least. She had two closets of them. But she knew that if she told Ivo, he'd have a fit.
"I mean it, I want you to go away somewhere. You need it. This has been an enormous strain. We both know that. If I could, I'd send you away right now, but I know that you have to be here. Will you promise me to think about it?"
"I'll see." She had survived Christmas by forgetting It entirely, and spent the holidays packing up her father's books. Somehow now she couldn't think of much else. The rare books were going to London, to auction, back whence they had come, and hopefully they would bring a good price. The appraiser said they were worth several hundred thousand dollars. She hoped he was right.
"What did Parke-Bernet tell you?" Now Ivo looked tired too. He came by to see her almost every day, but he hated her news. Selling, packing, getting rid of, it was like watching her unravel her whole life.
"The sale will be in two months. They'll make space for it in the schedule. And they are very pleased with our things." She handed Ivo his usual Scotch and soda and sat down. "Can I interest you in some dinner?"
"You know, I'm very impressed with your cooking. I never knew you could cook."
"Neither did I. I'm discovering that there are a lot of things I can do. Speaking of which"--she smiled at him as he took a long swallow of his Scotch--"I've been wanting to ask you about something."
He smiled as he sat back against the couch. "What's that?"
"I need a job." The matter-of-fact way she said it almost made him wince.
"Now?"
"No, not this minute, but when I finish all this. What do you think?"
"At the Mail? Bettina, you don't want that." And then, after a moment, he nodded. At least he could do that much for her. "As my assistant?"
She laughed and shook her head, "No nepotism, Ivo. I mean a real job that I'm qualified for. Maybe a copy girl."
"Don't be ridiculous. I won't let you do that."
"Then I won't ask you for a job." She looked determined. And the agony of it struck him again and again. But the truth of it was that she would need a job. She had faced it, and he was going to have to face it too. "Well see. Let me give it some thought. Maybe I can come up with a better idea than something at the Mail."
"What? Marry a rich old man?" She said it in jest and they both laughed.
"Not unless you audition me first."
"You're not old enough. Now, how about dinner?"
"You're on."
They exchanged another smile, and she disappeared into the kitchen to put on some steaks. She quickly set the long refectory table that her father had brought back from Spain, and she set a vase of yellow flowers down on the deep-blue cloth. When Ivo wandered into the kitchen a few minutes later, everything was underway.
"You know, Bettina, you're going to spoil me. I'm getting used to stopping here every night on my way home. It beats the hell out of frozen dinners or sandwiches on stale bread."
She turned to laugh at him as he said it, pushing back her rich coppery locks with the back of one hand. "Ha! When did you ever eat a frozen dinner, Ivo Stewart? I'll bet you haven't eaten dinner at home once in ten years! Speaking of which, what's happened to your social life since you started to baby-sit for me? You never go out anymore, do you?"
He looked vague as he touched the bright flowers on the table. "I haven't had time. Things have been awfully busy at the office." And then, after a moment, he looked at her again. "And what about you? You haven't been out in a long time either." His voice was very gentle, and she turned away with a soft shake of her head.
"That's different. I couldn't ... I can't...." The only invitations were from her father's friends and she couldn't face them now. "I just can't."
"Why? Justin wasn't the kind of man to expect you to go into mourning, Bettina." Or was it something else? Was she embarrassed to face people now that the truth had come out in the papers? Was it that? They had been unable to hide the truth of Justin's finances from the press.
"I just don't want to, Ivo. I'd feel strange."
"Why?"
"I don't belong in that world anymore." She said it so forlornly that he walked to her side.
"What in hell do you mean?"
Her eyes filled with tears as she looked at him, and suddenly she looked young again.
"I'd feel like a fraud, Ivo. I ... oh, Christ, Daddy's life was such a lie. And now everyone knows it. I know it. I don't have anything. I have no right to flounce around at fancy parties anymore or hang out with the illustrious and the elite. I just want to sell all this stuff, get out of here, and go to work."
"That's ridiculous, Bettina. Why? Because Justin ran into debt you're going to deprive yourself of the world you've lived in all your life? That's crazy, don't you know that?"
But she shook her head as she wiped her eyes with the fail of her shirt. "No, it's not crazy. Daddy didn't belong in that world either if he had to run into debt for four million dollars to stay there. He should have led a very different life." All the pain and disillusionment of the past weeks suddenly came out in her voice, but Ivo pulled her gently toward him and held her in the crook of one arm. It was like being a little girl again. For a moment, she almost wanted to crawl onto his lap.
"Now wait a minute, Justin Daniels was a brilliant author, Bettina. No one can ever take that away from him. He was one of the greatest minds of his time. And he had a right to be in all the places he was, with all the people he was. What he shouldn't have done was let his judgment get so insanely out of hand, but that is entirely another matter. He was a star, Bettina. A rare and special star, just as you are. Nothing will ever change that. No debt, no sin, no failure, no mistake. Nothing will change what he was, or what you are. Nothing. Do you understand?" She wasn't sure that she did, but she looked at him now with a look that blended confusion and pain.
"Why do you say I'm special too? Because I'm his daughter? Is that why? Because that's another thing that makes me feel I don't belong in that world anymore, Ivo. My father is gone. What right have I to go back to those people? Especially now, with absolutely nothing. I can't give them fabulous parties anymore, or wonderful introductions over lunch to the people they want to meet. I can't do anything, or give them anything ... I have nothing...." And then her voice caught on a sob. "I am nothing now."
Ivo's voice was sharp in
her ears, and his arm tight around her. "No. Bettina! You're wrong. You are something. You always will be, absolutely nothing will change that. And not because you're Justin's daughter, because you're you. Don't you realize how many people came here for you? To meet you? Not just him? You're something of a legend; you have been since you were a little girl, and you've never even realized it, which was part of your charm. But it's important that now you understand that you are Someone. You. Bettina Daniels. As a matter of fact I'm not going to accept this recluse act of yours any-more." He looked purposeful as he suddenly strode across the room and picked up a bottle of wine. He helped himself to two glasses, opened the bottle, poured the deep garnet-colored Bordeaux wine, and handed her a full glass. "I have just made a decision, Miss Daniels, and that's that. You are coming with me to dinner and the opera tomorrow night."
"I am? Oh. Ivo, no...." She looked horrified. "I can't. Maybe later ... some other time...."
"No. Tomorrow." And then he smiled gently at her. "Child of mine, don't you realize what day tomorrow is?" She shook her head blankly as she took their steaks off the grill. "It's New Year's Eve. And no matter what else is happening, we are going to celebrate, you and I."
He held up his glass of wine. "The year of Bettina Daniels. It's time we realized that your life isn't over. Darling, it has just begun." She smiled slowly at him as she took the first sip of her wine.
Chapter 6
Bettina stood in the darkened living room, watching the traffic honk its way impatiently down Fifth Avenue. Cars were crammed side by side and bumper to bumper as the festivities began. Horns blared, sirens whirred, people shouted, and somewhere in the night there was laughing too. But Bettina stood immeasurably still as she waited. It was a strange electrifying feeling, as though her whole life were about to begin again. Ivo was right. She shouldn't have stayed in by herself so much.
Loving (1981) Page 3