Special Delivery

by Steel, Danielle

  Jack had ordered a hundred bags by eleven o'clock, and Gladdie was back from Hermes by then with a slate-gray tie with tiny little white geometric figures on it. It was perfect. You do good work, he said gratefully, as he put it around his neck and tied it impeccably without looking in the mirror. He was wearing a dark gray suit and a white shirt, and handmade French oxfords. And he looked incredibly handsome with sandy blond hair, warm brown eyes, and chiseled features. Do I look respectable?

  I'm not sure that's a word I'd use for you ' maybe beautiful is more like it. She smiled at him, totally inured to his charms, which he always found very pleasing about her. Being with Gladdie was always very soothing. She didn't give a damn about his looks or his reputation, or his womanizing, just about his business. You look great, honest. Paul will be proud of you.

  I hope so. Maybe his charming mother-in-law will even refrain from calling the vice squad when she sees me coming. God, I hate funerals. He could already feel a pall falling over him, it still reminded him of Dori. Christ, that had been awful ' the shock, and the unbearable pain of it. The sheer misery of trying to understand that she was gone forever. It had taken him years to get over it, although he had tried to fill the void with a thousand women. But there had never been another woman like her. She was so warm, so beautiful, so sexy and mischievous and appealing. She was sensational, and just thinking about her, as he rode the elevator downstairs in his somber outfit shortly before noon, genuinely depressed him. It had been twelve years since she died, and he still missed her.

  Jack didn't even notice the women watching him admiringly as he left the store, and slid behind the wheel of his Ferrari. He peeled it away from the curb with immediate speed, and a roar of the powerful engine, and five minutes later he was on Santa Monica Boulevard, heading toward All Saints Episcopal Church, where they were holding the service. It was ten after noon by then, and traffic was worse than he had expected. It was a warm January afternoon in L.A., and everyone in the world seemed to be in their car and going somewhere. He was twenty minutes late when he got to All Saints and slipped quietly into a pew at the back of the church. He couldn't even imagine how many people were there. From where he was sitting it looked like seven or eight hundred, but he was sure it couldn't be that many.

  He tried to catch a glimpse of his daughter, Julie, but she was lost in the crowd somewhere. And he couldn't even see Paul at the front of the church, sitting between his wife and her sister. And his view of the widow was completely obscured. All Jack could see and think about was the inexorable inevitability of the coffin, so stark and severe, a rich mahogany with brass handles, covered by a carpet of moss and tiny white orchids. It was beautiful in its own grim way, as were the rest of the flowers in the church. There were orchids everywhere, and somehow without thinking about it, Jack knew that Amanda had done it. There was the same kind of impeccable attention to detail, even at a time like this, that she had shown during their children's wedding.

  But Jack quickly forgot about her, and sat lost in his own thoughts, reminded of his own mortality, during the High Episcopal service. A friend spoke, and both sons-in-law. Paul's words were brief and to the point, but very moving, and in spite of himself there were tears in Jack's eyes when he praised his son for it after the service.

  That was very nice, Son, he said, sounding hoarse for a moment. You can speak at mine, when the time comes. He tried to make light of it, but Paul shook his head with a look of disgust and put an arm around his father's shoulders.

  Don't flatter yourself. I couldn't say a single decent thing about you, and neither could anyone else, so don't bother.

  Thanks, I'll keep it in mind. Maybe I should give up tennis.

  Dad ' Paul scolded, with a quick warning look. Amanda was approaching, moving quietly through the crowd to the place where she would stand to greet a few of the mourners. And before Jack could move, he found he was looking right at her. She looked amazingly beautiful, and in spite of the years since, still very much a movie star. She was wearing a huge black hat and veil, and a very distinguished black suit, which he suspected immediately had probably been made by a French designer.

  Hello, Jack, she said calmly. She seemed very much in control, yet the huge blue eyes held so much pain, that he actually felt sorry for her.

  I'm sorry, Amanda. Even if he wasn't fond of her, it was easy to see how ravaged she was by the loss of her husband. There wasn't much else he could say to her, as she looked away and bowed her head for a moment, and then an instant later she moved on, and Paul went to find Jan, who was standing with her sister.

  Jack stayed for another minute or two, saw no one he knew, and then decided to leave quietly without bothering his son. Paul obviously had his hands full.

  And half an hour later, Jack was back in his office, but he was quiet all afternoon, thinking about them, the family that had lost the man who held them all together. Even if he hadn't liked him, one had to respect him, and feel sorry for the loved ones he had left so swiftly. And all afternoon, no matter what he did, Jack was haunted by Dori. He even took out a photograph of her, something he rarely did, but he kept one way at the back of his desk, for just such moments. And looking down at her smiling face on the beach at Saint-Tropez made him feel more bereft than ever.

  Gladdie checked on him once or twice, and sensed that he wanted to be left alone. He even had her cancel his last two appointments. But even depressed, he looked great in the dark suit and the tie she had bought him. And he had no idea that, at that exact moment, in the house in Bel Air, Amanda Kingston was talking about him.

  It was nice of your father to come, she said to Paul, as the last of their guests finally left them. It had been an endless afternoon for all of them, and despite her unshakable poise, even Amanda looked exhausted.

  He felt very bad about Matthew. Paul said, touching her arm sympathetically, as she nodded and looked at her daughters.

  Both girls were devastated by the loss of their father, and for once, they had even stopped fighting. Jan and her sister, Louise, were only slightly more than a year apart, but in every possible way they were entirely different. And they had battled with each other, night and day, ever since their childhood. But, at least for now, they had made peace in order to comfort their mother. And Paul left them alone quietly, as he went out to the kitchen to help himself to a cup of coffee. The catering staff was still there, clearing away the dishes and glasses left behind by more than three hundred people who had come to pay their respects to the Kingstons.

  I can't believe he's gone, Amanda said in a whisper, standing with her back to both girls, looking out over their perfectly manicured garden.

  Neither can I, Jan said, as tears rolled down her cheeks again, and Louise sighed audibly. She had loved him, but she had never gotten along with her father. She always thought he'd been harder on her than he was on Jan, and expected more of her. He had been furious with her when she had decided not to go to law school and had gotten married right out of college. But the marriage was a solid one, and in the first five years she had borne three children. But he had even had something to say about that. He thought she was having too many children. It didn't bother him at all that Jan had never had a real career, nor even wanted one, and had married a man who worked in show business and had a father who was nothing more than a Rodeo Drive merchant. Louise didn't like Paul, and made no bones about it. Her own husband was a Loeb and Loeb attorney and more suitable for a Kingston to marry.

  But as Jan cried on the afternoon of the funeral, all Louise could think of was how much her father had criticized her, how difficult he had been, and how often she had wondered if he even loved her. She would have liked to say something about it, but she knew that neither her mother nor sister would understand. Her mother always hated it when she said anything critical about her father. And as far as her mother was concerned, he was already a saint now.

  I want you both to remember how wonderful he was, Amanda said as she turned back to them, her chi
n quivering and her eyes filled with tears. She wore her blond hair straight back in a bun, and as they were both acutely aware, she was far more beautiful than they were, and always had been. She was an extraordinary beauty, and Louise always hated that about her. Her mother was almost impossible to live up to, and she had always expected both of them to be so perfect. Louise had never really understood the more human side of her, the vulnerability, the insecurities that had followed her throughout her life and lurked behind the exquisite facade. It was Jan who was much closer to their mother, which spawned the continuing resentment between both sisters. Louise had always accused Jan of being their parents' favorite, and Jan had always felt unfairly accused and couldn't see it.

  I want you both to know how very, very much he loved you, Amanda continued, and then couldn't go on as she began to sob softly. She couldn't believe he was gone, couldn't believe he would never hold her in his arms again. It was her worst nightmare come true. He had been everything she depended on, and she couldn't even begin to imagine a life without him.

  Oh, Mom. Jan cradled her mother in her arms like a child as her mother sobbed, and Louise quietly left the room and found Paul in the kitchen. He was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of coffee.

  How is she? he asked, looking concerned, and Louise shrugged, her own pain visible, but, as usual, mixed with anger. Her kids had gone home with the baby-sitter, and her husband had gone back to the office. And there was no one else but Paul to talk to, whether or not she liked him.

  She's a mess. She was completely dependent on him. He told her when to get up and when to go to bed, what to do, and not do, and who she could be friends with. I don't know why she let him do that to her. It was disgusting.

  Maybe that was what she needed, Paul said, looking at his wife's sister with interest. She was always so filled with anger and resentment, and he secretly wondered how happy she really was with her husband. Like all families, they all had their secret agendas and hidden undercurrents. And it always intrigued him to hear the girls talk about their mother. They each saw her differently, but the woman they knew was so different from the cool facade she presented to the world. They saw someone completely dominated and privately frightened. He wondered if that was the real reason why she had never gone back to making movies. Maybe aside from Matthew not wanting her to, she was just too afraid to do it. She'll be all right, he reassured Louise, not knowing what else to say to her, as she poured a glass of wine for herself. She showed too many of the signs of an unhappy woman.

  Jan'll keep an eye on her, he said to soothe his sister-in-law, but the remark only enraged her.

  Yeah, I'll bet she will. She's always sucking up to her. She always did, even when we were kids. I'm surprised the two of you don't offer to move in with her, that might really impress her. You know, she'll need a lot of help with settling the estate. I'm sure you and Jan will be only too happy to help her do it.

  Why don't you relax, Lou? he said, using Jan's name for her, and she glanced at him with smoldering eyes that were surprisingly like her mother's. But other than that, she looked just like her father, handsome, but no more than that. Between the two, Jan was the better looking. No one's trying to hurt you.

  Too late for that, she said, pouring another glass of wine as soon as she finished the first one. They've been doing it for years. Maybe Mom'll grow up now, without Daddy. Maybe we all will, she said, set down the glass and walked out into the garden, and Paul made no move to follow.

  And from inside the study where they sat, Jan and Amanda saw her through the window. She's mad at me again, Jan said. She's always mad at me about something.

  I wish you two would stop fighting, Amanda said sadly, looking at her younger daughter. I always thought when you grew up it would be different, that you'd be the best of friends, especially once you were both married and had children. It was all she had ever envisioned for them since they were babies, but there was a look of sorrow in Jan's eyes almost as soon as her mother said it.

  Well, I don't ' do I' .

  What? Her mother looked confused for a moment, and so sad it broke Jan's heart to see her.

  Have children. Something about the way she said it caught her mother's attention.

  Don't you want to have children? Amanda looked shocked, as though the very idea that her daughter didn't want children would be a betrayal.

  Yes, Jan nodded, and looked at her sister through the window. Lou had had three kids in five years, as easy as pie, as soon as she wanted. And this time it was Jan who was jealous of her. Of course I do. We've been trying for a year, and nothing has happened.

  That doesn't mean anything, Amanda smiled at her. Sometimes it takes a while. Just be patient.

  It didn't take you 'a while. You and Daddy had us in the first two years you were married. She sighed then, as Amanda patted her hand, and then she looked up at her mother. And what Amanda saw in her eyes tore her heart out, it was not only grief, but fear and bitter disappointment. I want Paul to go to a doctor with me, but he won't do it. He thinks I'm crazy to be worried.

  Did you talk to the doctor yourself, does he think there's a problem? Amanda was beginning to look seriously concerned about her.

  He doesn't know, but he thinks it's worth looking into. He gave me the name of a specialist, but Paul was furious when I told him. He said his sister has kids, and so does Lou. There's no reason why we should have a problem. But it's not always that simple. Amanda wondered suddenly if there was something she didn't know, a terrible disease in her daughter's youth, an indiscretion, an abortion, but she didn't dare ask her. It was better to leave that to her doctor.

  Well then, maybe you should listen to Paul, at least for a while, and try not to worry about it.

  It's all I think of, Mom, she confessed, as tears ran down her cheeks and spilled onto her dress as her mother watched her in anguish. I want a baby so much ' and I'm so scared I'll never have one.

  Of course you will ' She couldn't bear the thought of seeing her daughter so unhappy, especially now, with having just lost her father. You can always adopt, if it doesn't happen later.

  Paul says he'll never do that. He wants his own children. Amanda had to hold her tongue, so as not to tell her that Paul sounded not only difficult, but extremely opinionated and selfish.

  You can cross that bridge later. For right now, why don't you just try to relax, and I'll bet you anything, it'll happen before you know it. Jan nodded, but it was obvious from the look in her eyes that she was anything but convinced now. She had been worrying about it for an entire year, and concern was rapidly turning to panic. But if nothing else, a door had opened between mother and daughter.

  What about you, Mom? Are you going to be okay without Dad? It was an agonizing question, and brought tears to Amanda's eyes again as she shook her head and wept.

  I can't even imagine living without him. There will never be anyone else in my life, Jan. Never. I couldn't bear it. We've been married for twenty-six years, more than half my lifetime. I can't even begin to think about what I'll do now ' how do I wake up every morning' . Jan took her mother in her arms and let her cry, wishing she could promise her that she'd feel better, but she couldn't imagine her mother living without him either. He had been the life force of their family, he had shielded Amanda from the world, told her what to do about everything, and although he was only seven years older than she, in some ways he had been like a father to her. I just can't live without him, she said, and Jan knew she meant it. They sat and talked about him for another hour, and then finally Paul came back into the room. Lou had left without saying goodbye, she had been crying when she left, after watching them through the window, and Paul had work to do at home. It was nearly six o'clock by then, and sooner or later, they had to leave Amanda, no matter how hard it was for her. She had to learn to face life alone.

  She looked so pathetic as they left, standing on the front steps of the Bel Air house in her black suit, waving at them, that Jan burst into tears aga
in the moment they turned the corner.

  My God, Paul, she's just going to die without Daddy. She couldn't stop crying at the thought of the father she had lost, the sister who hated her, the mother who was in so much pain, and the baby she feared would never come her way. It was all completely overwhelming, and Paul held her hand as they drove home and tried to reassure her.

  Shell be fine in a while. You'll see. Just look at her, she's still young and beautiful. Hell, in six months, she'll have all of Los Angeles pounding on her door, asking her out. Maybe she'll even go back to the movies. She's certainly young enough to do it.

  She'd never do that, even if she wanted to, because she knows that Daddy never wanted her to go back to making movies. He wanted her to himself, and she did it because she loved him. Paul didn't say that if that was true Matthew Kingston was probably the most selfish man who had ever lived, because he knew Jan would have killed him if he said it. And how could you suggest my mother would go out with anyone? That's disgusting.

  It's not disgusting, he said quietly. It's real. She's fifty years old, Jan. And your father died, she didn't. You can't really expect her to stay alone forever. He said it with a small smile, and Jan looked furious as she glanced at him.

  Of course she's not going to go out with anyone. She's not your father, for God's sake. She had a wonderful marriage, and she loved Daddy.

  Then she'll probably want to get married again. It would be a crime if she didn't.

  I can't believe what you just said, Jan said breathlessly, pulling her hand away from his, and staring at him. You actually think my mother is going to go out with men? You're sick, and you have no respect for anything. And furthermore, you don't know my mother.

  I guess not, sweetheart, he said soothingly. But I do know people. She said not another word to him, and stared out the window away from him, furious at what he'd said, as they drove home in silence. Jan would have willingly sworn on a stack of Bibles that her mother would be faithful to her husband's memory for the rest of her life.