All the Stars in the Heavens (32 page)

Alda was hanging curtains in her kitchen in the bungalow she shared with Luca in the valley when she saw a car pull up in front of the house. Gladys and Loretta got out of the car, carrying a cake plate and a box wrapped in white with silver ribbons.

Loretta stopped to look at the house, the yard, and the street. Just a ten-minute drive over the mountain, the houses went from grand to cozy, from ostentatious to familial. The bungalow, made of pine and fieldstone, was charming. The flagstone walkway was hemmed with daisies. Under the picture window Alda had planted yellow rosebushes. The stoop's wooden canopy was covered in morning glory vines in lush purple, dripping off the simple wooden columns. The house was small, but it was lovely in detail.

Loretta sighed. While she loved Sunset House, she could imagine being happy in a small house that she decorated herself, with a man
whom she adored racing home for dinner, a man who couldn't wait to see her at the end of a long day. It was beyond her why the simple joys of being a woman were so far out of reach.

“Come in, come in,” Alda said.

Gladys took a look around the charming living room, approving of the decor. Loretta gave Alda a hug and handed her the gift.

“You didn't have to!”

“Housewarming!”

“Alda, darling, can you put on a pot of coffee?”

As Alda made the coffee, Gladys unwrapped a lemon pound cake she had made that morning.

“Alda, open your present!” Loretta said as Alda joined them at the table. She lifted a lovely pale blue ceramic coffee urn out of the box.

“I love it! We'll use it right now.” Alda went to the sink and turned to Loretta. “How are you feeling?”

“I'm fine.”

“Have you heard from Mr. Gable?”

“Constantly. I won't talk to him. I'm afraid to be seen with him.”

“Which is why we're here, Alda.”

“What can I do?”

“I'm planning a trip to Europe. We'd like you to come with us. We plan on staying the summer.”

“Are you going to have the baby there?”

“No, we figure we'll throw the press off by going to Europe, and we'll say that Gretchen is taking a cure, and then we'll return and she'll have the baby here.”

“And then what?”

“We don't know,” Loretta said.

“Are you considering giving the baby up for adoption? Saint Elizabeth's works with a Catholic adoption service.”

“I don't want to give my baby up.”

“And you don't have to,” Gladys assured her.

“Saint Elizabeth's was a halfway house. The nuns had a hospital ward right in the building. That's where I worked. The girls would have the babies, and the adoption service would assign the babies and the girls.”

“Are you still in touch with the nuns there?” Gladys asked.

“I'm very close to them.”

“What are you thinking, Mama? Do you think I should go up there and have the baby?”

“Maybe.”

“I don't know, Mama.”

“How else will you keep this story private?” Gladys countered.

“The sisters would take good care of you,” Alda assured Loretta. “And they would understand your predicament.”

“Think about it, Gretchen,” her mother said.

“Luca has lunch with Mr. Gable most days at the commissary. Mr. Gable asks my husband a lot of questions. I don't tell Luca anything, so he doesn't have to lie when Mr. Gable presses him. But if you want me to go to Europe with you, I have to tell him everything.”

“We can trust Luca,” Loretta told her mother.

“Alda, will you speak with the Mother Superior and see if this is a possibility? If they can care for the baby until you can bring him home, it will help us keep the press off the story. By the time you have the baby, believe me, there will be some other headline occupying their minds.”

“Where were you thinking of going in Europe?” Alda asked.

“England,” Gladys said.

“The press in England is worse than New York or Hollywood. They would badger Loretta.”

“So what shall we do?” Gladys was worried.

“I'd like to take Loretta to Padua. Since we'll be there a while, I can see my family, and they'd take good care of us.”

“It's a fine idea,” Gladys said.

“You'll love Italy. Everywhere you turn, there's a shrine, or a chapel, or a fresco. It will give you peace of mind.”

Loretta took Alda's hand and squeezed it. “Whatever luck or providence or answered prayer brought you into my life, I cannot be grateful enough.”

“I'm here for you,” Alda said.

Alda poured the coffee into the elegant urn. She served the pound cake and the coffee. Despite the plan they had hatched that
day, for a moment it was as if no time had passed, and their lives were as simple as they had been the day Alda left Saint Elizabeth's and walked into the house on Sunset.

Loretta told stories about the making of
The Crusades
to keep her mind off her troubles. Gladys laughed, as she hadn't since Loretta came home with the news. It was the last carefree afternoon the women would have. It was time to tell Clark Gable he was going to be a father.

Lost in thought, Spencer Tracy was walking across the MGM lot with his hands in his pockets when a chocolate-brown coupe nearly ran him over.

“Get in the car, Spence,” the driver said.

Tracy removed his sunglasses. “What the hell, Gable?”

“You should watch where you're going.”

“You almost hit me.”

“Close, but no cigar.”

“Where are you going?”

“I'm running over to Paramount. They want to talk to me about a script. You'd be perfect to costar.”

“How's the dough?”

“There'll be plenty.”

“If you're in it, the pot goes to you.”

“Not if I tell 'em I won't make it without you.”

“You'd do that for me?”

“It's true love, buddy.”

“I always thought so.”

“Get in—let's go turn old Adolph Zukor upside down until his pockets are empty. It worked for me with Zanuck.”

“I'm in.” Spencer jumped into the car. “I didn't recognize you. How many cars do you have?”

“A few.”

“Save some for the rest of us, will ya?”

“You can buy yourself a new car with what you'll be making.”

“You'd really slum with me in a picture? I'm touched.”

“Don't go all soft on me. I have enough heartache.”

“Lady kind?”

“Always lady kind.” Gable smiled.

“Who is she?”

“I've been chasing Myrna Loy,” Gable admitted.

“Have you caught her?”

“Nope. Have a funny feeling I never will.”

“Me too.” Tracy looked out the window.

“You're after Myrna?”

“Won't give me a tumble.”

“I feel worse.” Gable sped across La Brea.

“If this were poker, I'd bail. You'll end up with her eventually. Give it time, Gable. Give it time.”

“That's all I've got is time. I'm taking my cues from you. You get the girls. You're the teddy bear.”

“That makes me sound fat.”

“Sorry, pal.”

“How about you?”

“I'm trying to extricate myself, that's what my lawyer calls it, from the most expensive marriage on record. The throw pillows on Mrs. Gable's Louis Quatorze chaise alone are worth a fortune.”

“Give her half and get out.”

“That's what my lawyer says. Of course he's getting half of my half.”

“They always do.” Tracy shook his head.

“I have a better use for my money. I'd rather help those in need. I should just empty my bank account and stand on La Brea and hand out ten-dollar bills until every penny I have is gone. Ria would get half of nothing.”

“You'd still have to pay the lawyer.”

The gates to the Paramount lot opened, and Gable drove through. “Here to see Adolph Zukor,” he said to the guard.

“Building C.”

“How do I get there?”

“You gotta give it a couple of minutes. There's a parade going through.”

“For what?”

“DeMille is filming
The Crusades
.”

“Hey, is Loretta Young on the lot?”

“Bungalow seven.”

Spencer Tracy shifted uncomfortably in his seat at the mention of Loretta's name. Gable pulled onto the lot and took a back alley behind the parade, peeling through the standing sets.

“Hey, you passed building C.”

“We gotta drop in on Gretchen,” Gable said breezily.

“I don't know about that, pal.” Tracy was nervous. He hadn't spoken to Loretta since she sent him the good-bye letter. He had seen her across the aisle in church at Christmas, but he had to look away because she looked so winsome.

Loretta's dressing room was full of bouquets of roses. Her favorite flower was everywhere—long-stemmed red roses in vases, clutches of pink baby roses in small ceramic pots, and a crystal bowl with gardenias floating in white rose petals on the coffee table.

“You know a star by the number of bouquets in her dressing room,” David Niven had said.

Loretta stepped into her costume, an emerald green velvet gown trimmed in gold. Alda zipped up the back of the dress. When it still fit, Loretta beamed.

Alda slipped silk shoulder pads into the costume. She placed a flat of padded linen around Loretta's rib cage, which, as she zipped up the dress, made Loretta's waist seem small. Loretta was eight weeks along in her pregnancy, but with Alda's help the actress was still able to hide the truth.

“You're a genius, Alda.”

“We're lucky we wrap today. Another week, and there would be no hiding it in these costumes.”

Gable and Tracy barged into bungalow 7 like a couple of schoolboys. Loretta and Alda were taken aback. Gable was wearing a gray silk suit, while Tracy wore an open collared shirt and chinos. Alda had been in Hollywood long enough not to react to the dynamic
presence of a leading man, and here were two, so different, yet each in their way possessing a mesmerizing power over women, especially over her boss.

“Miss Young, you're wanted on the set,” Gable said.

“Is it time to burn you at the stake?” Tracy joked.

“Wrong picture.” Gable laughed.

Loretta felt her face flush. She did her best acting and joked with the men. “Mr. Tracy, you're a good Jesuit; you should know your Bible stories. I'm not Joan of Arc in this picture. And Mr. Gable, it's well known that you're a lousy Catholic, so you probably think this is a remake of
Polly of the Circus
.” Loretta checked her lipstick in the mirror.

“I was good in
Polly
.”

“You were terrible,” Loretta corrected him.

“The worst. I saw it too. Gretchen is right,” Tracy agreed. “Lot of treacle, that one.”

“This coming from a man who either plays an angel with cardboard wings or a priest in a cardboard Roman collar.”

“I take what I'm offered.” Tracy shrugged. “But you're a national treasure. You play those he-man roles, and we need those guys in the movies—right, Gretch?”

“Gives a girl something to dream about.”

“What about him?” Gable pointed to Tracy.

“Girls dream about him too,” Loretta assured them.

“They dream about me fixing their faucets,” Spencer said. “I'm the plumber of American cinema.”

Gable laughed. “You sell yourself short, buddy.”

“Compared to you, I am.” Tracy smiled.

“Let's go, Loretta, or we'll be late,” Alda chided her.

“All right, boys, give sister a kiss.” Loretta extended her cheek toward Tracy and then Gable, and each gave her a platonic kiss on the cheek. “You're good friends, but I have to go to work.”

Loretta and Alda left the men in the bungalow.

“God, she's gorgeous,” Tracy said.