"But you're independently rich," Dolores said.
"But I have no name and no talent. Erick adores possessions. He's just bought a ship from the Germans—an ocean liner—and he's having it turned into a private yacht. It will be twice the size of anything Onassis or anyone else has. You see that will be a possession. Ludmilla is still revered . . . and she's a possession. So when she
gave him the ultimatum . . . me or her . . . that was it."
"Oh Nita, I'm sorry. Perhaps it's for the best."
"Maybe . . . but I had to get away." She opened her purse and popped another pheno into her mouth.
"Nita ... you shouldn't take them that often."
Nita smiled vaguely. "It's better than sitting around sobbing."
Dolores stood up. "Nita, you're staying with me imtil this place is done. And we'll have such fim. I'll give a party for you . . . invite fim people . . . and you'll have a big social life here. Then when your apartment is done, you can give parties. And we'll have a great time doing it. Just think— not having to stint on money . . . you've got more than you could use."
"Did Horatio call you?" Nita asked dully.
"Yes."
"Why didn't he come with you to meet the plane?"
"Nita, I'm the wife of a President. I can't associate with just anyone."
"Horatio isn't just anyone," Nita said slowly. '1 admit he's a funny-looking little man. But I met him at several parties in London. He knows all the right people."
"I don't like him," Dolores said.
"How can you say that if you haven't met?"
"I've seen him simpering away on television . . . trying to be a wit . . . talking about every subject except the one he's supposed to know. Art. He's bitchy. I don't like him."
"He makes me laugh," Nita said. "And he's better to lunch with than any girl. He knows all the dirt."
Dolores stared at her sister. It was the first bit of enthusiasm Nita had shown. "All right, Nita. I'll have your Horatio to dirmer one night."
The next month passed quickly. Dolores was a whirlwind of activity. She showed Nita swatches, she took measurements—and through it all she tried not to notice Nita's air of lethargy, as if she were on another planet, as if she didn't quite hear everything Dolores said. She even went to Orsini's for limch with Nita and Horatio. Nita was right. He was a funny gossip and she enjoyed him. When Horatio was around, it seemed the one time Nita was "with it" and not in her usual dreamlike state.
In September, the apartment was not finished but it was quite livable. Nita sent for the children and their nurse. The rest of the staff had been engaged by Dolores and they were excellent. Nita also hired a social secretary, a nice conscientious girl who developed a permanent worried look as Nita just let her sit in front of a typewriter for days, waiting for instructions. She met Horatio for lunch almost every day, and the third week in
September, Dolores had a sit-down dinner for thirty in her honor.
The Barry Haineses accepted. It was a good assortment of people. There was Eddie Harris, who fascinated Nita, an opera star, two Senators, a top designer, an English director, an English actor from the cast of a hit show, and the current top social names. She also invited Horatio Capon, who, to her amazement, seemed to enthrall several women, including a beautiful Wall Street broker's wife. Rita Hellman was known as Super Elegance. She had made the best-dressed list Hall of Fame, amd it seemed incongruous to watch her sitting at Horatio's feet laughing at his gossip.
That night Nita called her when the party was over. "Dolo . . . you've been so good to me . . . we've never really been close . . . but you've saved my life. I love you, Dolo . . ." Her voice sounded vague.
"Nita, are you all right?"
"Yes ... I just took a pheno. Dolo . . . are you happy?"
"I am tonight—for the first time in almost two years."
"It was a wildly successful party."
"Nita ... did you get to talk with Barry Haines?"
"Yes, he's very good-looking."
"Nita—" Dolores paused. Then she said quietly, "I'm mad about him."
This time Nita's voice was clear. "You are . . . oh Dolo . . . great! How long has this been going on?"
"Nothing has gone on . . . until tonight. He spent as much time with me as he could and told me he's been thinking of me all along too. He's coming here for tea. Tomorrow!"
"Oh Dolo, I'm so happy for you."
A Proper Tea
For the next three weeks Dolores lived in a high state of excitement. She and Barry Haines had had a proper tea. Then he came by one night at nine (after the children were in bed) for a quiet dinner . . . and they had gone to bed together. It had been beyond anything Dolores dreamed it would be. She clung to him and told him she loved him. She said it over and over. Later when they sat before the fire in her bedroom, he said, "Dolores, you know if I got a divorce from Constance, I'd have no money. She has it all."
''But I could never marry a divorced man. It's against my religion. Besides, I don't have enough for both of us . . . even if you managed to get your marriage annulled."
7S
"I thought you were a millionaire," he said.
She stared into the fire. "I get money each year from a trust but it's not enough. Of course, the children will have several million when they're grown . . . but I am not a millionaire."
"And I only make twenty thousand a year at the firm."
"That's all!"
"Dolores, they're just paying me for the use of my name on the door. I'm a lousy lawyer. You see . . . my family ... we were born into politics. My grandfather was Mayor of this city . . . my great-grandfather was in the Senate . . . my mother had money . . . but it was all used for my father's campaign. Then he died . . . and . . ."
"You married Constance."
He nodded. "Who will you marry?"
She shook her head. "No one. I am Queen Victoria. Didn't you know that? I've met a few Counts and Lords—all eligible, all poor. They think / have money. Fimny, isn't it—how money is the great leveler."
"Can we go on together?" he asked.
"Forever." She threw her arms around him. "Barry, when I said I loved you . . . that wasn't in a fit of passion. I never even said that to Jimmy. I love you and as long as I know I can see you a few times a week . . . privately . . . like this . . . then I can go on living out the legend . . . using
the Judge or Michael as an escort to some dreary functions."
''Then why bother going to them at all?"
"Because I can't sit home every night." She began to pace. "Barry, for almost two years I've lived like a caged animal. A year in mourning, going nowhere, eating with the children. This past year . . . going to boring functions . . . having lunch with my mother-in-law . . . whom I really like . . . Bridget is quite a lady. Then, coming back here . . . listening to the children's lessons . . . helping them . . . watching TV. I love beautiful clothes. I'm only thirty-seven. I want to wear them and be seen occasionally ... so I go somewhere with Michael or the Judge."
"Don't ever break your image," he said as he ran his hand through her hair. (She had taken off the hairpiece, but fortunately he never noticed the difference.)
"What IS my image really?" she asked.
"Like a cross between Garbo cind royalty, totally inaccessible ..."
She fell into his arms and kissed him. "How inaccessible do I seem now?" And they made love on the bear rug in front of the fireplace.
The Pills
She called Nita the following day and insisted on lunching with her. ''Without Horatio!" she said.
They sat in a quiet restaurant, and Dolores told her about Barry. Nita listened vaguely and then said, "Dolo, you sound like a schoolgirl."
"But Nita, he's the only man I've ever really loved."
"What about Jimmy?"
Dolores seemed thoughtful. "I was terribly attracted to him when we met. But you know how Mother kept downing the Irish ... it sort of took away his glamour. After all, he wasn't Pr
esident then. No one dreamed he would be . . . and it was
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time I was getting married . . . you had taken Nelson and—"
"Taken Nelson!"
Dolores lit a cigarette to hide the color that came to her face. "I can tell you now, Nita, but at nineteen I was mad for him."
"Oh God . . ." Nita shivered. "He's nothing in bed. I knew it before I married him but then, as you say, we did listen to Mother, and we weren't exactly rich."
"You went to bed with him before you married him?"
"Dolo, I went to bed with a boy in the back of a car when I was fifteen. Now don't try to tell me you were a virgin when you married Jimmy."
Dolores smiled. "I haven't had too many extracurricular affairs." (She couldn't bring herself to admit to Nita that Barry was only the third man in her life.)
"Are you going to marry him?" Nita asked.
Dolores shook her head. "Constamce has all the money."
Nita shrugged. "Well, at least you've got yourself a good lover, which is more than I can say. I tried that screenwriter you admire ... a big zero ... he wants to talk all the time. Makes love just to get it over with, then actually reads you scenes from his new play." Nita yawned. "Come back to the apartment. My new bedroom rug has
arrived . . . and there are a few other things you haven't seen."
Nita signed the check and then popped one of her phenos into her mouth. Dolores decided Nita's vagueness was caused by the phenos. Yet she had asked her own doctor about them and he said one or two a day couldn't really hurt her.
Dolores reveled in the luxury of Nita's new apartment. "Oh Nita . . . those mirrors . . . where did you get them?"
"I had them shipped from England. Dolo, you should really marry money. You're like a cat. You revel in it. I'd be just as happy in a hotel suite as I am in this apartment. I don't even care about clothes."
The phone rang. Nita saw the second light. "I'll take it. That's Horatio ... on my private line. Dolo, go into my bedroom. I just got two Valentino suits and they're a bit too large. Try them. If they fit, take them." She picked up the phone.
Like a child Dolores ran into the bedroom. She sat on the edge of the bed for a moment. It reminded her of her days at the White House, when she redecorated without thought of cost, thinking Jimmy wouldn't care what she would spend. Then she went to the closet. The Valentinos were hanging apart. She stared enviously at all the clothes and furs Nita had. She took out the suits and tried them on. They fit perfectly. She changed
back into her own suit. The light on the phone was still on . . . her own apartment was beautiful . . . but nothing like this. Suddenly her head began to ache. Why did money rule the world? If she had money she could pull strings and maybe get Barry an annulment. Yet Nita wasn't happy with all her money.
She went into the bathroom to get an aspirin. When she opened the medicine chest, she stared in amaizement. There was bottle after bottle of every kind and color of sleeping pills. Red ones . . . yellow ones . . . the two-toned ones (the kind Jimmy used to take if he had a big press session on TV . . . when he said he wanted and needed a good night's sleep). Then she saw all the bottles of white pills . . . the pheno Nita used. She reached for one . . . maybe it would make her feel better. She stared at the label. But it wasn't pheno. It said, "For Pain . . . Demerol." She knew about Demerol. They had given it to her when she lost the second set of twins and she had floated in a misty twilight, feeling no pain . . . nothing.
Good God, was Nita on Demerol? Was that why she was always so vague? She walked into the living room. Nita was curled on the couch giggling at some news Horatio was telling her. She reached into Nita's pocketbook and opened her pillbox. Like a panther, Nita was on top of her. "What are you doing?"
"I have a headache. I want one of your phenos."
Nita grabbed the box. "They're not for headaches." She rang a bell and from nowhere a maid appeared. "Get Mrs. Ryan some aspirin." Then she went back to the phone call with Horatio, clutching the pillbox in her hand.
Gossip
Dolores worried about Nita for two days. But on the third day she had a bigger worry. Barry burst in late that afternoon with a newspaper in his hcind. "Have you seen this?"
Dolores shook her head. "I never read columns," she said. (She read them avidly, but she hadn't seen the papers that day.)
"Listen to this. 'What untouchable glamorous lady is very in touch with the hiindsome husband of a very rich lady? Since they both come from political backgrounds, maybe it's just politics they talk about in those late-night get-togethers.'"
"I . . . it could be anyone," Dolores said.
"But it's us."
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"I know, but Constance will never believe it/' she pleaded.
"That isn't it. What worries me is how did it get in the columns? We haven't been anywhere publicly . . . your maids are always asleep. Where is the leak?"
She didn't want to put the thought into words, or even allow it to form in her mind. But she knew it was Nita. Nita was the only one who knew. But Nita wouldn't tell a gossip columnist. Yet would Nita tell Horatio? Oh God . . . no But she would have to test her.
"Let me track it down," she said evenly. "I think I know where the leak is—and I'll plug it immediately. Go home. I'll see you tomorrow night."
She had lunch with Nita the following day. "I've split with Barry," she said casually.
"Three days ago you were out of your mind about him," Nita said.
"Last night, Eddie Harris came over. We went to bed together. Oh Nita ... he was divine."
"He is very earthy. Only he talks about his work too much. But he is single—and available. Think about it, Dolo."
"Oh, I couldn't marry Eddie Harris!"
"Why not? If things get dull he can always read you his new movie script like he did with me."
Dolores grew misty-eyed. "When we made
love he recited poetry to me. Poetry he made up, just for me. Oh Nita, it's such a shame I can't marry him. He's been divorced—the Church would never stand for it."
Two days later in the same gossip column there was another "blind item." "Our imtouchable glamorous lady is really not that untouchable. Now she's dropped the other lady's husband for a very eligible screenwriter."
Dolores stared at it. Nita! But why?
She picked up the phone immediately. "Nita, why did you do it?"
Nita sounded vague. "Oh, you mean the two Valentinos I sent over to you. Well, they were too big for me and—"
"I got them and thanks. I have no pride . . . I accept being the poor relative. No, I'm talking about the column . . . there's a blind item in the paper about Eddie and me."
"Well.. . that can't hurt you."
"Nita, did you give it out?"
''Nor
"I don't believe you."
"Dolo ... I swear ... I ... I told Horatio . . . and I know he's a professional gossip, but it never dawned on me that he would say anything."
"And you also told him about me and Barry ..."
''I... I might have. You know, I take a drink with the phenos at lunch . . . and then I float. I can't remember what I say."
"Nita, they aren't phenos. They're Demerol. Why are you on them?"
"I—I sprained my back when I was skiing, and I take them occasionally."
"Nita, what are you doing to yourself?"
"Trying to get through each day, the same as you are. Only I don't have one exciting lover after another." And Nita slammed down the phone.
Dolores wasn't as upset about the column mention as she was about Nita. She had looked forward to Nita's arrival. And for the first time they had met as equals cmd she had felt a closeness; now she realized the closeness had only been in her mind. Nita was caught up in some kind of drug-sedated lethargy and couldn't be trusted with any confidences. So once again she was alone. Except for Barry Haines.
If her relationship with Nita became more superficial (Dolores refused to go to lunch if Horatio was along), her
attachment to Barry Haines became more intense. She forced herself to go to "important small dinner parties" with Eddie Harris, the Judge, or Michael as an escort. And she was aware that there was great speculation about her relationship with Michael. She did nothing to dispel it for by now she realized that talk, any kind
of talk, only added to the legend she had become. But when she was alone with Barry, those three wonderful nights a week, the world closed in, and there were just the two of them.
Love
A year passed and she began to wonder when she would get control of the "Barry" situation. Usually with crushes, she grew weary of them and took the conunanding position—like with Eddie Harris. He had not been allowed to touch her since Barry, but he was so eager to be with her he took her on any terms. And even Michael was quick to spring at any engagement when she needed an important escort. His wife, Joyce, took it cill in good grace. (Personally, Joyce found Dolores very stilted and dull and she understood that Michael felt playing escort to her on an important occasion was his duty.)
During the year, Nita flew back to London twice, once to keep things looking "right" with
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Nelson—going to all the proper balls—and the second time to make one last plea to the Baron. She had returned more depressed than ever.
"Erick wants no part of me/' she had said, sobbing, to Dolores. "I practically got on my knees and begged him. How can he want that old ballerina?"
"Nita," Dolores said, trying to comfort her, "does it occur to you that Erick is sixty-one? And Ludmilla is over fifty! You're young. You want sex. Maybe Erick is slowing down—maybe he can't do it as often as you would like and maybe Ludmilla is content to accept him on any terms."
"I'd accept him with sex only once a week . .. on any terms, too."
But Nita found a new set of friends and a few new lovers. She still lunched with Horatio, and still occasionally went to Dolores' in tears over Erick . . . but she bought clothes, attended parties, and soon became a regular of the Beautiful People scene.
Dolores Page 5