“Good evening,” said Shirley in a formal voice. Allison looked up to see Shirley wearing a black-and-white-spotted party dress. No surprises there, Shirley fit in perfectly with the bold decor.
“Hi, Shirley,” said Allison politely. “How are you?”
“Fine, I guess.” Shirley yawned, not even bothering to cover her mouth, then flopped down on the shiny red sofa.
“Does Mrs. Jenson need any help in the kitchen?” Allison aimed this more at Mr. Jenson than Shirley.
“No, I don’t think so,” said Mr. Jenson with a small smile.
Shirley laughed. “No, we definitely do not want to go in there right now. Mother doesn’t especially enjoy being in the kitchen, and she can get a little edgy. Do you want to see my room, Allison?”
“Sure.” Allison was curious about what Shirley’s room would look like. It couldn’t be any worse than this one.
“I didn’t realize we needed to dress up tonight,” said Allison as she followed Shirley to her room.
“Oh, this old thing,” said Shirley, looking down at her dress. “This isn’t anything special.” She opened a door, and Allison walked into a room that was very pink.
Allison swallowed and smiled. “This is nice, Shirley.” It wasn’t exactly the truth, but she couldn’t think of anything else to say. Maybe it was just a little pink lie.
“Thanks,” said Shirley as she flopped down on the canopy bed. “Have a seat.”
Allison sat down on a pink slip-covered chair and looked around. The bedspread and canopy were pink, the rug was pink, even the walls were pink. “You must like pink,” Allison said weakly.
“It’s okay. All this stuff is from my room in California. I’ve been thinking about changing it, but my mom said not this year. So what did you do today?”
Allison thought for a moment. Because of her promise, she didn’t want to mention flying and certainly not her wonderful walk on the beach with Andrew. “Not much, I guess,” she finally answered. “I had lunch in Port View with my dad, then I took a walk on the beach.”
“Pretty boring stuff,” Shirley said. “There’s not much to do around here.”
“I think there is,” said Allison. “I really like it here.”
Shirley sniffed. “I guess if you’re not used to much action, it’s okay.”
Allison nodded, unable to think of anything to say. Shirley wasn’t much fun to talk with. “Do you like music?” she asked as she spied a phonograph and stack of records.
“Yeah, it’s okay.” But Shirley made no move to put on any records.
“So what do you do for fun?” asked Allison.
“Not much. At least not around here.” Shirley flopped back against the bed dramatically and sighed. “I used to go shopping a lot when we lived in California.”
Allison nodded again as she began to absently tap her toe, wondering if every second spent with Shirley really equaled an hour. What would Heather do if she were here? Of course, Heather would think of something cheerful to talk about, something that would interest someone like Shirley.
“Wasn’t that a fun football game last night?” Allison tried.
Shirley sat up. “Yeah, it was pretty good. Andrew is so great. Everyone at Wally’s was talking about him last night. Karen thinks he’s really something.”
“I noticed that you finally got to sit at the table with them,” Allison said, trying not to sound as jealous as she had felt last night.
“Yeah, I really like Karen and the others. I think in time I’ll get to be good friends with them. It will be a lot more fun to live here once I get some good friends.”
Allison wondered what that made her but didn’t really care. She’d just as soon not be classified as one of Shirley’s “good friends.” “It is hard moving to a new place, but I think everyone seems pretty friendly.”
Shirley didn’t say anything. After a long, painful silence, they heard Mr. Jenson calling them for dinner. Allison popped up, relieved to escape moody Shirley and her painfully pink room.
The dining room was very much like the living room, except the red was absent. Everything was black or white, very formal and cold.
“Marge,” James said to a woman who looked like an older version of Shirley, only harsher and with deep frown lines creased into her forehead. “This is my daughter, Allison. I don’t think you’ve actually met.”
“Nice to meet you, Allison,” Mrs. Jenson said with what Allison supposed was a smile. “Please be seated, everyone.”
They were quickly seated and Allison waited for the blessing, but Mr. Jenson immediately began carving what looked like a very well-done roast. Shirley passed her the potatoes, and Allison spooned out a very stiff dollop that landed on her plate with a loud whack. She felt her cheeks grow warm and sensed Mrs. Jenson’s eyes upon her.
“This looks very good, Marge,” James said. Allison knew he was trying hard to be friendly.
“I’ve been telling Hal that we really need to get a cook,” she said curtly. “Especially considering there’re no good restaurants around here. Seven days a week is a lot of cooking, and I don’t much care for it.” This comment seemed directed like a bullet at Mr. Jenson. Allison felt badly for him as he looked down at his plate.
“I’m sure it shouldn’t be too hard to find someone,” James said. “Maybe even for just a few days a week. Perhaps I could ask Muriel to recommend someone.”
“That would be nice,” murmured Mr. Jenson.
Allison thought it would probably be very nice for everyone as she took a bite of the tasteless, overcooked peas that were the color of old seaweed.
“Yes, that would be very nice,” agreed Mrs. Jenson in an acidic tone. “In fact, I may just try to lure Muriel away from you.”
James smiled. “That wouldn’t be easily done.”
“That’s right,” Hal said. “Besides, James needs a cook. Being a single man and all.”
Mrs. Jenson frowned at her husband. “And are you suggesting that since I’m a woman I shouldn’t need a cook?”
“No, dear,” Mr. Jenson said soothingly. “I only meant that James and Allison must appreciate having Muriel.”
“A lot of people have cooks,” Allison offered, hoping to make peace. She was remembering Marsha’s cook in Beverly Hills, but she didn’t want to mention anything to do with Marsha. Instead she said, “Even my grandmother has a cook.”
Mrs. Jenson looked at Allison with interest. “Really? I guess I do remember hearing that your mother’s family was fairly well to do.”
Allison quickly looked down at her plate, longing for someone else to pick up the conversation.
“Say,” James said. “I remember Muriel mentioning a friend of hers who—”
“You know,” interrupted Mrs. Jenson, “I just received a note from my friend Gladys down in California this morning. She had a most interesting bit of gossip. She mentioned that she had heard about some daughter of an actress who had recently moved up here to Tamaqua Point.” Mrs. Jenson’s gaze narrowed onto Allison. She reminded Allison of a lioness about to devour her victim. “And Gladys said that the girl was about the same age as our Shirley.”
“How interesting,” James said nonchalantly. “Please pass the butter, Hal.”
“Really, Mother?” Shirley sat up with interest. “Tell us more about it.”
Mrs. Jenson turned to her husband, pointing with her fork. “Hal, didn’t you tell me once that James had been married to some actress in New York City?”
Hal swallowed a bite and nodded, looking at Allison’s father as if for confirmation. “Wasn’t your wife an actress or singer or some sort of entertainer, James?”
“I don’t really like to talk about the past very much.” James smiled stiffly and attempted to change the subject. “But say, how about that football game last night? Wasn’t Andrew something else?”
“What exactly was your wife’s name?” Mrs. Jenson demanded. Allison stared at her with wide eyes. This woman’s blunt rudeness almost made Marsh
a seem angelic in comparison.
“Mrs. O’Brian,” James retorted with a sly grin.
“Oh, come now,” Mrs. Jenson said with exasperation. “Don’t be so tiresome. Tell me your ex-wife’s name. What can you possibly have to hide? You must realize that all I need to do is pick up the phone and call Bea to find out. In fact, if I’d had any idea that you were married to someone halfway interesting, I would have looked into it ages ago.”
“Marge,” James began with a sincere tone, “the past is the past. Can’t we just let it go now?”
Mrs. Jenson ignored his plea and turned her attention back to Allison. “I can see I’m getting nowhere with your dad. Why don’t you tell me, dear.” She smiled a pathetic little smile. “Just who is your mother, Allison?”
Allison looked from Mrs. Jenson to her dad. She knew it was useless; this relentless woman would soon uncover the truth. Perhaps it would be best to just tell them. At least she could plead with them to keep quiet.
“These rolls are quite good,” James said. “Did you bake them yourself, Marge?”
Allison smiled at his last-ditch effort to change the subject.
“No,” she snapped without even looking at him. “They’re from the bakery.”
Now Shirley joined in pleading childishly, “Please, Allison, just tell us—who is your mother? Is she really an actress? Come on, tell us.”
“Yes, it can’t be such a big deal,” said Mrs. Jenson. “It’s not like she could be anyone really famous.”
Allison felt slightly indignant. Marsha Madison was really famous. What right did Mrs. Jenson have to act like she wasn’t? Allison looked at her father, and he simply raised his brows as if to signal it was up to her whether she wanted to spill the beans or not.
“Come on, Allison. It’s not as if your mother is some big movie star.” Shirley laughed. That same sarcastic laugh, as if nothing in the world could ever impress her.
“As a matter of fact, she is,” Allison said. If they had to know, they might as well hear it from her.
“You’ve gotta be kidding,” Shirley said. “A real movie star? I don’t believe it. Who is she, then? Anyone we’ve ever heard of, or just some little no-name?”
Allison took a deep breath and continued in a serious voice. “I really hadn’t meant for people at school to know about this, Shirley.” She looked pleadingly at Mr. and Mrs. Jenson. “If I tell you who my mother is, can you keep it a secret?” Even as Allison spoke the words, she knew it was probably unrealistic. How could she trust Shirley, not to mention her mother, with something like this? But then again, if she didn’t tell, it was certain that Mrs. Jenson would just call Bea, Shirley’s grandmother, and drag it out of her.
James immediately jumped in to help. “I’m sure you can all understand how this might be something that Allison wants to keep quiet, being new at school and all. Sometimes it’s nice to get to know people without bringing all your history with you.” This he directed to Shirley, as if he knew something that she might not be comfortable having announced to all of Port View High.
“Shirley won’t tell her friends,” said Mrs. Jenson persuasively. “And I can certainly keep a secret. Come on, James, tell us. This is just too good.”
“It’s up to Allison.”
“Please, Allison,” Mrs. Jenson said with a suspicious smile. “We won’t tell a soul. Will we, Shirley?”
“Of course not,” Shirley answered. “Probably no one would care anyway.”
“Have you ever heard of Marsha Madison?” Allison asked abruptly.
“Well, of course, but—” Mrs. Jenson stopped. She looked from Allison to James, and he nodded slightly as if to confirm it.
“You’re kidding!” Shirley exclaimed. “Marsha Madison is not your mother!”
“I can’t believe it!” cried Mrs. Jenson. “Why didn’t Bea ever tell me this?”
“I guess Mom just knows how to keep her mouth shut,” Mr. Jenson said, and his wife threw him a dark look.
Shirley put down her fork with a bang. “This is too much! Marsha Madison’s daughter is sitting right here, at our table.” Shirley and her mom both stared at Allison as if she were a specimen under a microscope.
“Remember your promise,” James warned.
“You don’t look a thing like your mother,” said Mrs. Jenson.
James laughed. “She can’t help that her good looks come from my side of the family. She looks just like my mother.”
Suddenly, Shirley and Mrs. Jenson began to ask dozens of questions until Allison finally held up her hands. “Stop, stop. I can’t even begin to answer all those. For your information, I make it a rule not to discuss any of Marsha’s personal life. If you want to learn all that stuff, you might as well read a movie star magazine.”
James smiled at Allison, then turned to Mrs. Jenson. “Now, how about another slice of that roast?”
Allison looked over at the dried-up roast and thought he was being an awfully good sport. Mrs. Jenson was distracted for a moment, and Allison launched into a sneak preview of what Marsha’s next movie was all about. She managed to keep the movie star questions at bay until dessert was served, then James began to discuss business with Mr. Jenson, steering them away from Marsha completely.
After dinner the men went to the den, and Allison offered to help clean up in the kitchen.
“Thank you, but no,” Mrs. Jenson said. “You and Shirley can go and visit. I wouldn’t want Marsha Madison’s daughter cleaning up my dinner dishes.” The way she said it made Allison want to scream. It was exactly what she had been afraid of.
Back upstairs, Shirley dug out a pile of movie star magazines and began spotting Marsha in many of them. “I can’t believe it, Allison. This is just great. My best friend’s mother is a movie star.”
Allison gulped. She wasn’t sure which was worse—the best friend part or the movie star mother. “The thing about good friends is that they know how to keep secrets,” Allison said in a conspiratory tone. “Right, Shirley?”
“Sure. Hey, look at this shot of her in Desert Rose. I just loved that movie. Gee, Allison, I don’t understand why you didn’t want to live with your mom. That would be so glamorous and exciting. I can’t believe you gave all that up to come here to the end of the earth.”
“I just wanted to live a normal life, Shirley. I’ve always been in boarding schools. I’ve never lived in a real home and gone to a public school.”
“But don’t you miss her?”
“I’ve never been close to her. I actually spent more time with her this summer than my entire life put together. It was really nice getting to know her, but she’s so busy she doesn’t have time to be a mom. This is the best way. I’ll go to Hollywood to visit and everything—”
“Hollywood?”
“Well, actually, she lives in Beverly Hills.”
“Beverly Hills,” Shirley breathed as if it were heaven.
An idea began to form in Allison’s mind that perhaps it would be in her best interest to wow Shirley with all this movie star talk. Perhaps it would prove a useful tool in getting Shirley to keep her mouth shut. She told Shirley about her summer visit in Beverly Hills and other tidbits that she felt would suitably impress the star-struck girl. Her plan seemed to be working because when it was time for her to go home, Shirley’s jaw was literally hanging open in amazement.
“Now, remember our secret, Shirley,” Allison said as if they had a little conspiracy going. “I’m counting on you.”
“You bet,” said Shirley.
Allison could only hope.
Allison and James sat with George and Muriel right behind Grace and the kids at church the next morning. Andrew sat directly in front of Allison, and she smiled to herself as she remembered her time with him on the beach yesterday. Then she remembered their secret, but she knew she could trust Andrew.
The Jensons weren’t at church, but Shirley’s grandmother, Bea, was there. Allison didn’t get the impression that Mr. and Mrs. Jenson were regular attendee
s, and while she knew she shouldn’t be glad about that, she was, nonetheless, relieved not to see Shirley today. Monday would be soon enough.
After church James suggested they all go crabbing. They agreed to go home and get changed, then meet at the dock. Allison quickly pulled on jeans and a sweater and went downstairs to help Muriel pack a picnic lunch.
“George is already down there making a big fire to cook the crabs in,” said Muriel as she wrapped a loaf of freshly baked bread. “How was your dinner last night?”
“Don’t ask,” said Allison.
Muriel chuckled. “I’ll bet you’re extra hungry today.”
Allison grinned. “Mrs. Jenson said she was going to try to lure you away from Dad to be her cook.”
“Fat chance,” laughed Muriel. “Grab a jar of those strawberry preserves there, Allison. And don’t forget the butter. We’ll need enough for the corn on the cob, too.”
“Muriel, you’re making me hungry. I hope it won’t take too long to get enough crab to make a decent meal.”
“George says they are plentiful right now. He and your dad went down to the dock already to drop down a couple of pots to get us started, and I’ll bet Andrew is there with them.” She closed the lid of the basket. “No reason you can’t go ahead and haul this basket down while I finish up the next. Don’t forget to take a blanket to sit on.”
“Thanks, Muriel. See you down there.” Allison scooped up the basket and blanket and headed to the dock.
It was getting misty and cool outside with the fog rolling in, but it was perfect weather for a bonfire. George had the big iron kettle full of water hanging over the flames. It was already starting to steam as Allison set the picnic basket beside it.
“Hey, Allison!” Winston yelled. “Come and see these.” He was leaning over to watch as Andrew pulled a crab pot out of the water and set it on the dock.
“Those look pretty good, Andrew,” James said.
Allison O'Brian on Her Own, Volume 2 Page 9