Family Album

by Danielle Steel

  She smiled. “Who told you that?”

  “I saw Louis B. Mayer at lunch today. He said you're the finest actress in town, and of course I agreed.”

  “A lot you know.” She laughed. “You've been gone for four years. You've missed all my best films.” She sniffed primly and he laughed. He was happy with her. Happier than he'd been in years.

  “Yeah, but don't forget, I saw you in Guadalcanal.” He glanced over at her tenderly and touched her hand again. “How many people can boast of that?” and then suddenly they both laughed, thinking of the thousands of troops she'd entertained. “All right, never mind …” He pulled up in front of the pink hotel, and jumped out, as a doorman rushed to his aid, touching his hat and murmuring Ward's name. And he went to open Faye's door himself, as she stepped out and looked down at her slacks.

  “Can I go in like this?”

  “Faye Price?” He grinned. “You could go in wearing a bathing suit and they'd kiss your feet.”

  “Would they now?” She smiled at him. “Or is that just because I'm with Ward Thayer?”

  “What a lot of nonsense that is.” But as usual, the headwaiter gave him the best table. And this time, three people asked her for her autograph, and when they left the hotel an hour later, much to her dismay someone had called the press, and a flashbulb exploded almost in their faces as they walked out of the hotel.

  “Damn. I hate that stuff.” She looked annoyed as they took refuge in her car, and the photographer had followed them all the way. “Why can't they leave us alone? Why do they have to make a thing of it?” She liked her privacy and the same thing had happened to her before. And this time she wasn't even involved with Ward yet. It was only their second date.

  “You're big news, kid. It can't be helped.” He wondered then if she objected to being paired off with him, maybe there was someone else. He hadn't thought of that before, but it made perfect sense. And as he drove her home, he brought it up gingerly. “It won't … it won't mess up anything else for you, will it, Faye?” He looked concerned, and she smiled as she saw the worried look in his eyes.

  “Not the way you mean. But I don't like to go around advertising how I spend my private hours.” She still looked annoyed and also tired.

  “Then we'll have to be discreet about where we go.” She nodded, but they both seemed to forget the vow the following night when he picked her up in his own car, a custom-built Duesenberg he had bought before the war and had left up on blocks in his garage. It was the car the doorman at Ciro's had been referring to, and Faye could see why. It was the most beautiful car she'd ever seen.

  He took her to the Mocambo that night, and Charlie Morrison, the gray-haired owner, had run up and almost kissed Ward as he hugged him and pumped his arm. Like everyone else, he was ecstatic over Ward's safe return, and another mammoth bottle of champagne appeared as Faye glanced around the room, wondering who was there. She had been there before of course, and it was the most glamourous place in town, with an entire wall of rare, live birds flying around, while couples danced, and big film stars drifted in and out, just as she did now with Ward.

  “I don't suppose our being here will go unnoticed tonight. Charlie may call the papers himself, you know.” Ward looked concerned. “Do you mind very much, Faye?” He suspected she hadn't been pleased with the photograph that had appeared on page four of the L.A. Times that day, showing them leaving the Beverly Hills Hotel after cocktails the night before and running for the safety of her car.

  But she only smiled at him. “I get the feeling, Ward, that you don't know how to be invisible.” They both knew it was the truth. “And actually, I'm not really sure I care. Neither of us has anything to hide. And it would have been nice to maintain our privacy, but it looks like that isn't in the cards for either of us.” She had thought about it a lot the night before, and decided what the hell, they had nothing to hide.

  “I've never worried about it much before.” He sipped the sparkling wine. He always drank gallons of champagne, it seemed to be almost a trademark with him. “That's just the way things are.” … if you're the heir to a shipyard fortune, she thought, and drive a custom-built Duesenberg…. And suddenly she laughed.

  “Little did I know, when I met that nice young lieutenant in Guadalcanal, that he was spoiled rotten to the core, and used to hanging out in a lot of fancy watering holes and drinking rivers of champagne….” She teased him and he didn't seem to mind, it was all true, yet there was a great deal more to him. In some ways, he knew that the war had done him good. They were the hardest four years of his life, and he had proved something to himself, that he could survive almost anything, hardship, danger, misery, discomfort. For all four years, he had never once traded on his connections or his name, although of course there were those who knew who he was.

  And then there had been the girl he had married. At first, he had thought he would never recover when she'd been killed.

  It had been a reality he had never faced before, and a grief almost beyond bearing. And now there was Faye with all her magic and her glamour, and underlying it her keen sense of reality, and her enormous talent. He was glad Faye hadn't known who he was at first. She might have felt differently if she had, might have thought he was frivolous. And he was at times, he liked to have fun. But he was capable of seriousness too, as Faye was beginning to discover. There were so many dimensions to the man, as there were to her. And together they were quite a combination. They each liked the other for what they were, not for what they had. They were a good match in a lot of ways, as Hedda Hopper and Louella Parsons both quickly noticed.

  “What are your lifetime goals, Miss Price?” Ward teased her over their fourth glass of champagne, although he seemed to be feeling no effect from it, but Faye knew she'd have to slow down or she'd get drunk, and that was something she never did. “What do you want to be doing ten years from now?” He seemed serious as he asked and she knit her brows and looked at him. It was an interesting question.

  “Do you mean it?”

  “Of course.”

  “I'm not sure. When I think about things like that, I always see two possibilities, like two roads with two very different destinations, and I'm never sure which one I'll take.”

  “And where do those two roads go?” He was intrigued by what she said, he was intrigued by everything about her now, even more so than he had been before.

  “One road represents all this,” she looked briefly around the room before glancing back at him, “the same people, places, things … my career … more films … more fame,” she was being very honest with him, “more of the same, I guess …” Her voice trailed off.

  “And the other road?” He gently took her hand. “Where does that one go, Faye?” The room faded around them as he spoke and she looked into his eyes. There was something there she wanted very much, and she wasn't sure yet what it was. “The other road … ?”

  “It goes to a very different place … a husband … children … a life far, far from all this … more like the life I had as a little girl. I can't really imagine it anymore, but I know the possibility is there, if I wanted to make that choice. But that's a hard choice to make.” She looked honestly at him.

  “You don't think you could have both?”

  She shook her head. “I doubt it very much. The two don't mix. Look at the way I work. I'm up at five, gone by six. I don't come home until seven or eight o'clock at night. What man would put up with that? And I've seen Hollywood marriages come and go for years. We all know what that's like. That's not what I want if I settle down.”

  “What do you want, Faye … if you settle down, I mean?”

  She smiled at him. It was a funny conversation for them to have on their third date. But she was beginning to feel she knew him well. They had seen each other three times in three days, and something strange had happened to them in Guadalcanal so long ago. It was as though a bond had formed and strengthened silently over the years, and it was still between them now, holding them fast,
bringing them closer than they might have been had they just met. She thought about his words again.

  “I guess I'd want stability, a marriage that would last for years and years, with a man I'd love and respect, and children of course.”

  “How many?” He grinned at her and she laughed again.

  “Oh, twelve at least.” She was teasing now.

  “As many as all that … good lord … how about five or six?”

  “That might do.”

  “Sounds like a good life to me.”

  “It does to me too, but I still can't imagine it.” She sighed.

  “Is your career that important to you?”

  “I'm not sure. I've worked awfully hard at it for six years. That might be difficult to give up … or maybe not….” Suddenly she laughed. “Enough movies like the one I'm working on and maybe I'd give it all up like that.” She snapped her fingers and then he took her hand in his again.

  “I'd like to see you give it all up one day.” His face was suddenly so serious that it startled her.

  “Why?”

  “Because I'm in love with you, and I like that second road you described. That's the fulfilling one. The first road is a road to loneliness. But I think you already know that.” She nodded slowly and stared at him. Was he proposing to her? He couldn't be. She wasn't sure what to say, and slowly she drew her hand away.

  “You just got home, Ward. Everything looks different to you right now. You're going to be very emotional for a while….” She wanted to discourage him. It was only right. He was moving too quickly … for heaven's sake, she barely knew him, and yet it felt like a time which might never come again and they were both still under the spell of his surviving the war. The magic of wartime was still there for them both, and yet this was very real. And very special.

  He retrieved her hand again and kissed her fingertips. “I'm serious, Faye. I've never felt like this in my life. And I knew it the minute we met in Guadalcanal. I just didn't know what to say to you there. For all I knew I'd be dead the next day. But I'm not, and I'm home, and you're the most incredible woman I've ever known….”

  “How can you say a thing like that?” She looked upset and he wanted to hold her in his arms, but he didn't dare, not in the middle of the restaurant, with the photographers possibly lurking nearby, and everyone anxious to report what they'd seen. “You don't even know me, Ward. You saw me perform for two hours in Guadalcanal … we talked for half an hour afterwards … we've seen each other twice since you got back….” She wanted to discourage him now, before it was too late but she wasn't even sure why. It's just that it all seemed to be going so fast, and yet she had this incredible feeling about him, as though she could have walked off into the sunset with him that night, hand in hand, and everything would have been all right for the rest of their lives. But it didn't happen like that. Did it? It couldn't … or maybe it did … maybe that was “the real thing” that everyone talks about. “It's too soon, Ward.”

  'Too soon for what?” He looked matter-of-fact. “Too soon to tell you I'm in love with you? Well, maybe it is. But the fact is, Faye, I am. I've been in love with you for years.”

  “Then it's an illusion.”

  “No, it's not. You are exactly who I sensed you were. You are smart and realistic and practical. You are modest and warm and funny and beautiful. You don't give a damn who the press agents say you are. As far as you're concerned, you like what you do, you work hard. You are the most decent woman I've ever met, and what's more you're good at what you do, because of all of the above … and if I don't drag you out of here and kiss you in the next five minutes, I'm going to go nuts, Faye Price, so just shut up, or I'll kiss you right here!”

  Her eyes were worried, but she couldn't help smiling at him. “What if you figure out that you hate me in six months?”

  “Why should I?”

  “I probably have habits you'd detest. Ward, I'm telling you, you don't know who I am. And I don't know you.”

  “Fine. Then we'll get to know each other.” But he had already tipped his hand to her and he didn't care. “But I'm going to glue myself to you and drive you nuts till you say yes.” He looked completely satisfied with what he had just said, and drained his glass of champagne with a contented look, and then set it down and looked at her. “All right with you?”

  “Would it make a difference if I said no?”

  “Not a bit.” It was the grin she had already come to love, the mischievous spark in the deep blue eyes. He was difficult to resist, and she wasn't even sure she wanted to. She just wanted them both to be sensible. She had had romances with other men before, though admittedly none were quite like him. But she didn't want to be one of those women the press wrote about constantly, in love with this one, engaged to that one, and in the end it all amounted to their being used up, like tired old Hollywood whores. She still cared about things like that, which was another thing he liked about her. In fact, he was convinced that he liked everything, and she suspected the same about him, but she wasn't about to give in, certainly not after three days.

  “You're impossible.”

  “I know.” He looked pleased with himself, and then suddenly concerned as he leaned toward her. “Does it bother you that I don't work?” Maybe that was it, the work ethic was bothering her.

  “Not if you can afford not to, I suppose. But don't you get bored, Ward?” She was intrigued with what he did with his spare time. She worked so hard, and had for years, it was difficult to imagine just playing tennis and going out to lunch. It sounded deadly to her, but he certainly didn't seem unhappy with it.

  “Faye.” He sat back and looked at her. “I love my life. I've had a good time ever since I was a kid. And when my father died, I told myself that I would never work myself into the ground like he did. He was forty-six when he died, of a heart attack. My mother was forty-three. I think she just worried herself to death about him. They never took a minute to do what they wanted to, to have a good time, hell, they never even spent any time with me. And I swore to myself that when I had kids one day, and even long before that, I wouldn't live like that. There's no reason to. I couldn't spend all that money if I tried, to be vulgar about it,” which he seldom was, as Faye knew, but he was being honest with her and she valued that. It gave her good insight into him. “My grandfather did the same damn thing, died at fifty-six of overwork. So what? Who cares how hard you worked when you die. I want to enjoy life while I'm here and I am enjoying it. Let them say what they want to. Let them call me what they want. I'm not going to drop dead from a heart attack at forty-five, or be a stranger to my wife and kids. I'm going to be right there, enjoying life with them, knowing who they are, and letting them know me. I never even knew who my father was, Faye. He was a stranger to me. Like you, I see life divided in two roads. The life they lived that I don't ever want to live, and the one I'm living now, and this one suits me just fine. And I hope to hell it doesn't bother you.” He looked deep into her eyes and took a deep breath. “Of course, if you want me to, I could always get a job.”

  She looked at him in shock before she answered. He was serious about all this. But how could he be after just three days? “You don't have to get a job for me, Ward. What right could I possibly have to ask you to do that?” And if he could afford his lifestyle, why should he do anything differently?

  He wasn't hurting anyone with the way he lived. She looked at him and spoke softly. “I can't believe you're serious about all this.” Their eyes held for a long time as he nodded, and then silently he led her to the floor and they danced for a long time, without saying a word. And when he led her back to the table, he watched her, wondering if he had upset her and praying that he hadn't.

  “Are you all right, Faye?” She was suddenly very pensive, and he was concerned that he had frightened her by telling her what was on his mind.

  “I don't know.” She looked at him honestly. “I think you've taken my breath away with all that.”

  “Good.” He put a
n arm around her and squeezed her shoulders, admiring again the navy satin backless dress she wore. She had a flair for dressing with subtle sensuality in a way that pleased him immensely, and he was dying to buy her clothes and jewelry and furs.

  For the rest of the evening, they kept to lighter subjects, Faye trying to pretend to herself that he hadn't bared his heart already, and he seemed even happier than before, to know that she knew what he felt for her. After dinner, he drove her back to her place, and this time she invited him for a glass of cognac, although she was almost afraid to. She knew his thoughts now, and she wondered if it was dangerous to let him inside. And then as she poured his drink, she laughed at herself. Hell, he wasn't going to rape her. She handed him the glass and he wondered at her smile.

  “You're so lovely, Faye … even more beautiful than I remembered.”

  “You need to have your eyes checked.” His praise embarrassed her at times, it was so lavish, and his adoration of her was so clearly written in his eyes. He was a carefree, happy man, with few disappointments and no current worries, and he was clearly very much in love. “What are you doing tomorrow?” She said it just to have something to say and he laughed.

  “I'll tell you one thing I'm not doing. I'm not working.” In some ways, he was shameless about it and it amused her. He had certainly told her all he felt on the subject at dinner, but it was almost as if he were proud of not working. He didn't even mind being called “the playboy millionaire.” “I wish you weren't working on a movie just now, Faye. We could go out and play.” She could just imagine the trouble they would get into. Lazy afternoons on the beach, days of expensive shopping, maybe a trip or two. She had to admit, the prospect was almost appealing, but she wouldn't even let herself dream about that yet. “I'd like to take you to the Casino at Avalon Bay one of these nights, but we'd have to spend the night on Catalina Island. I don't suppose you'll have a weekend off, will you?”

  Sadly, she shook her head. “Not till the film is over.” She smiled at him over their cognac, smelling the heady aroma, and thinking of all the fun things they had in store.