Family Album

by Danielle Steel

  She went back to Los Angeles two days later, by train, and moved into a small room at the Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel when she arrived. The houses she saw were depressing beyond words. In bad neighborhoods, with tiny backyards and small ugly rooms. She combed the papers, and called all the agencies, and finally, desperate, by the beginning of the second week, she found a house that was not quite as ugly as the rest, and was large enough for all of them. It had four good-sized bedrooms on one floor. She had already decided to double up the boys, and the twins, and the nurse and Anne could also share a room, and the fourth bedroom would be for her and Ward. Downstairs there was a large somewhat gloomy cheaply paneled living room, a fireplace that had not worked in years, a dining room that looked out on a bleak little garden, and a big old-fashioned kitchen, big enough to put a big kitchen table in. The children would certainly be closer to her than they ever had before, and she tried to tell herself that it would be good for them, that Ward wouldn't hate it and refuse to live in it, and the children wouldn't cry when they saw the dreary rooms. The best thing about it was the rent, which was an amount they could afford. And it was in a family neighborhood in Monterey Park which was a long, long way from their old life in Beverly Hills. There was no kidding anyone about that, and when she returned to Palm Springs, she didn't really try to. She told them all that it would be “for a while,” that it was an adventure they would share, that they would all have chores to do, and they could plant pretty flowers in the garden which would grow. And when Ward faced her when they were alone, he stared at her openly and said the words she feared:

  “How bad is it really, Faye?”

  She took a deep breath. The only thing she could do was tell him the truth. He would find out soon enough for himself. There was no point lying to him. “Compared to what we had?” He nodded. “It's grim. But without looking back at that, if we can make the effort not to for a while, it's not so bad. It's freshly painted, it's reasonably clean. The little bit of furniture we have left will fit. And we can make it prettier with curtains and bright flowers. And,” she took another breath, trying not to see the look of devastation on his face, “at least we have each other. It'll be all right.” She smiled at him but he turned away.

  “You keep saying that.” He was angry at her again, as though it were all her fault. And secretly, she was beginning to believe it was. Maybe she shouldn't have forced him to face it all. Maybe she should have let him go on living in debt until they couldn't anymore. But it would have all had to be faced sooner or later anyway … wouldn't it? She didn't have the answers anymore. At least he had kept his word, and packed up the house in Palm Springs, and he hadn't started drinking again until she returned. Then he knew she would take over and he could relax. At least for a while … until they moved.

  When they closed up the house and drove to Los Angeles all together on a Tuesday afternoon, it felt as though it were a thousand degrees. Faye had already made a little headway in the Monterey Park house before rejoining them in Palm Springs. She had unpacked what she could by herself, hung a few pictures in everyone's rooms, filled vases with flowers, made beds with clean sheets. She had done everything possible to make it look like home, and the children were intrigued when they arrived, like puppies sniffing out their new home, and delighted when they found their rooms and their toys and their own beds as Faye watched hopefully, but Ward looked as though he were going to faint as he walked into the dark, ugly, wood-paneled living room. He said not a word as Faye watched his face, and fought back tears. He glanced out into the garden with narrowed eyes, glanced around the dining room, noticed a table they had kept from an upstairs den, and instinctively looked up, expecting to see a familiar chandelier that had been sold months before, and then shook his head as he looked at Faye. He had never seen anything like it before. He had actually never been in a home this poor, and instantly it cut him to the quick.

  “So much for that. I hope at least it's cheap.” He felt guilt overwhelm him again at what he was doing to her, and all of them.

  Her eyes were gentle, as they stood facing each other in their new home. “It's not forever, Ward.” That was what she had told herself years before, as she longed to escape the poverty of her parents' home. But that had been much worse than this. And this wouldn't be forever either. This time, she was sure of that. Somehow, they would dig their way out.

  Ward looked around again sorrowfully. “I don't think I can take too much more of this.” And at his words she felt anger bubble up inside of her for the first time in months, and when she spoke she roared.

  “Ward Thayer, everyone in this family is making the best of this, and you'd damn well better too! I can't turn the clock back for you. I can't pretend this is our old house. But this is our home, ours, mine, the children's and yours too.” She was trembling as she stood staring at him and he looked at her eyes. She was determined to make the best of it, and he respected her for that, but he wasn't sure he had the strength to do it too, and when he went to bed that night, he was almost sure he did not. The room smelled of old rot, as though the beams had been damp for years, there was a musty smell about the whole house, and the curtains Faye had hung were from their old servants' quarters and didn't fit. It was like becoming servants in their own home, it was all like an incredible, surrealistic, ugly dream. But it was theirs, and it was real, and she knew they had to make the best of it. And he turned to say something to her, to apologize for how badly he was taking it all, but she was already fast asleep, curled into a little ball, huddled onto her own side of the bed, like a frightened child, and he wondered if she was scared too. He was terrified most of the time these days, even the drinking didn't help anymore, and he wondered what would happen to the rest of their lives. Was this it for good? They certainly couldn't afford more than this, and he wondered if they ever would again. She said that it was just a stepping-stone, an interim place, that one day they would move on, but when and how and to where? In his wildest dreams, as he lay in the ugly, musty bedroom, painted pale green, he couldn't even imagine it.

  CHAPTER 8

  It had been six years since he had represented her, and her hand trembled as she dialed the phone. It was entirely possible that he had retired, or perhaps wouldn't have time to speak to her. He had called her when Lionel had been born, and tried to convince her once again to pick up the threads of her career before too much time passed and it was too late. And it was surely too late now, six years after she had abandoned her career. She didn't need him to tell her that. But she needed his advice. She had waited until September. The children were all in school, as planned, except, of course, Anne. And Ward was out seeing old friends, trying to get a job, he said, but most of the time he just seemed to be having long lunches at his favorite restaurants and clubs, “making contacts,” he told her when he came home. Maybe he was, but she could see it going on for years and getting them nowhere, not unlike this call … if he wouldn't talk to her. She prayed he would, as she gave the secretary her name. There was an interminable pause and she was asked to hold the line, and then suddenly there he was … just like the old days, long before this.

  “My God … a voice from the distant past. Are you still alive?” His voice boomed in her ear as it had years before and she laughed nervously. “Is it really you, Faye Price?” She was suddenly sorry she hadn't seen more of him over the years, but she'd been so busy with Ward and the kids, and Hollywood was part of another life.

  “It's me, the same Faye Price Thayer, with a few gray hairs now.”

  “That can be changed, although I don't suppose that's why you called me. To what do I owe the honor of this surprise, and do you have ten children yet?” Abe sounded as warm as he had before, and she was touched that he still had time to talk to her. They had been such good friends once upon a time. Her agent for all the years of her stellar career, he had faded from her life, and now she was knocking on his door again. But she smiled at what he had said.

  “Not ten children, Abe, only five. I'm
only halfway there.”

  “Christ, you crazy kids. I knew from the light in your eye, you meant it way back then, that's when I gave up on you. But you were great while you were up there, Faye. And you could have stayed there for a long, long time.” She wasn't sure she agreed with him, but it was nice to hear. She would probably have started to slip one day. Everyone did eventually, and Ward had spared her that, but now … she had to get up the courage to ask what she wanted from him, although he suspected the moment he heard her name. He read the papers, just like everyone else, and had heard how much trouble they were in. The house sold, their goods auctioned off, the shipyard closed. It was a quick trip down, just like for some of his stars. But it never changed the way Abe felt about the people he liked, and he felt sorry for Faye now, with no money, a husband who had never worked a day in his life, and five kids to support.

  “Do you ever miss the old days, Faye?”

  She had always been honest with him. “I never have, to tell you the truth.” Not until now, anyway, and even now, she had something else in mind.

  “I don't suppose you have time with five kids on your hands.” But she'd have to go out and work again now. He knew that only too well and decided to get to the point, and spare her the embarrassment of crawling to him.

  “To what do I owe both the honor and the pleasure of this call, Mrs. Thayer?” Though he could guess … a part in a play … a small part in a film. He knew her well enough to know she wouldn't ask the moon of him.

  “I have a favor to ask, Abe.”

  “Shoot.” He had always been direct with her and if he could, he would help her now.

  “Could I come and see you sometime?” She sounded like an ingenue again and he smiled.

  “Of course, Faye. Name your day.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  He was startled at how soon she wanted to come in. They really were desperate then. “Fine. We'll have lunch at the Brown Derby.”

  “That would be wonderful.” For just an instant, she thought longingly of the old days. It had been years since she had thought of that. And after she hung up, she walked upstairs with a secret smile. She just prayed he wouldn't tell her she was out of her mind. But when she met with him the next day, he didn't say that, but he sat very quietly, thinking of what she had asked. He had been shocked to hear the details of what had happened to their life, and that they were living in Monterey Park. It was so far from where they had begun, light-years away in fact, but she seemed to be holding up. She was one hell of a gutsy girl, always had been, and she was smart enough to do what she had in mind. He just wondered if anyone would give her the chance.

  “I read somewhere that Ida Lupino directed a movie for Warner Brothers, Abe.”

  “I know. But not everyone is going to give you that chance, Faye.” He was honest with her. “In fact, few will.” And then, “What does your husband have to say about all this?”

  She took a deep breath and looked her old agent in the eye. He hadn't changed much over the years. He was still rotund, gray-haired, sharp, demanding, but kind, and honest to a fault. And best of all, she sensed instantly that he was still her friend. He would help her if he could. “He doesn't know yet, Abe. I thought I'd talk to you first.”

  “Do you think he'll object to your coming back to Hollywood?”

  “Not like this. He might if I tried to act again. But the truth is I'm too old now, and I've been gone for too long.”

  “At thirty-two, that's a lot of crap. You're not too old, but it would be hard to make a comeback after all these years. People forget. And the young kids have their own stars today. You know,” he sat back and drew pensively on his cigar over dessert, “I like your idea a lot better. If we can sell it to a studio, it would really be something else.”

  “Will you try?”

  He pointed the cigar at her. “Are you asking me to be your agent again, Faye?”

  “I am.” She met his eyes and he smiled.

  “Then I accept. I'll sniff around and see what I get.” But she knew him better than that. She knew he would turn over every rock and stone until he found something for her, and if he didn't find anything, it would be because there was nothing there. And she was right about him. He didn't call her for six weeks, and when he did, he asked her to come in to see him again. She didn't even dare ask him on the phone. She just took the bus from Monterey Park to Hollywood, bumping along nervously, and then running up the steps to his offices. She was breathless when she arrived, but still beautiful he noticed as she sat down. She was wearing a striking red silk dress with a lightweight black wool coat. She had kept some of her clothes from their better days and she looked wonderful. She almost trembled as he watched her face, and he reached across the desk and took her hand. He knew just how anxious she was.

  “Well?”

  “Relax. It's nothing fabulous, but it's a start. Maybe. If it appeals to you. It's a job as assistant director, at pathetic pay, at MGM. But my friend Dore Schary liked the idea. He wants to see what you can do. And he's well aware of what Lupino is doing at Warner Brothers. He likes the idea of having a woman in his stable too.” Schary had long since had the reputation of being the most forward-thinking of the studio heads, he was also the youngest of all of them.

  “Will he be able to tell if I'm any good, if I'm working for someone else?” She was worried about that, but on the other hand, no one would just let her direct by herself for the first time. She knew that too.

  Abe nodded his head. “The director is someone he has under contract, and Dore knows he's no good. If this film turns out halfway decently, it'll be all your fault. And the guy is so lazy and drinks so much, he won't even be on the set half the time. You'll have a free hand, what you won't get is much money or much glory out of this. That comes the next time around, if you do a good job this time.”

  She nodded. “Is the picture any good?”

  “It could be.” He was honest with her again, outlined the script, told her who the stars would be. “Faye, it's a chance and that's what you want. If you're serious about this, I think you should give it a try. What have you got to lose?”

  “Not much I guess.” She looked at him pensively, thinking over all that he had said, and she liked the sound of it. “When would I start?” She wanted time to study the script, and she could almost see Abe gulp. He knew how she hiked to work, how thorough she was, how studious. He grinned sheepishly.

  “Next week.”

  Faye rolled her eyes with a groan. “My God.” It also didn't give her much time to break Ward in to the idea. But this was what she wanted, it was all she knew how to do, and she wasn't even sure she knew how to do this, but she wanted desperately to try. She had secretly been thinking about it for months. She looked Abe Abramson in the eye and nodded her head. “I'll take it.”

  “I haven't told you how much.”

  “I'll take it anyway.”

  He told her the pay, and they both knew it was ridiculous, but the important thing was that she was being given a chance.

  “You'll have to be on the set by six o'clock every day, earlier if they want you to. You may work till eight or nine o'clock at night. I don't know how you'll manage with the kids. Maybe Ward can help you out.” Although Abe couldn't imagine that. Ward wasn't that kind of man. He was too used to having an army of help to fulfill his every need. And Abe wondered how much he helped Faye now.

  “I still have one woman to help me out.”

  “Good.” He stood up. It was just like the old days … almost … sort of … she grinned.

  “Thank you, Abe.”

  “Never mind that.” His eyes said that he felt sorry for her, but he respected her. She'd bail herself out yet. She was just that kind of girl. “Come back tomorrow and sign the contract, if you can.” It meant another long bus ride into town, but nothing compared to the ride she would have now every day, getting all the way across town from east to west, to Culver City, and MGM. But she would have walked over ground glass for this j
ob, or for Abe. She knew he would take ten percent from her, and ten percent of what she would be making was hardly worth looking at for him, but he didn't seem to mind. And neither did she. She was thrilled.

  She had a job! She wanted to shout as she ran down the stairs. And she smiled to herself all the way home on the bus, and burst into the house the way one of her children would have. She found Ward sitting in the living room, obviously feeling the effects of another champagne lunch with one of his friends, and she dropped onto his lap and threw her arms around his neck.

  “Guess what?”