Farewell, Dorothy Parker (19 page)

Delaney was upstairs sleeping, and they were trying to keep their voices down.

“Why were you so sure?” Violet asked.

“Please. That man is as sensual as a ripe peach.”

Violet hugged herself. His scent was on her clothes, and it made her shiver. She closed her eyes and inhaled. When she opened them, Dorothy Parker was staring at her, amused.

“I must look ridiculous,” Violet said.

“Indeed.”

“I can’t believe how giddy I feel about this. I feel like…listening to love ballads, reading poetry. Maybe yours.” She blushed at the confession.

“Good heavens, don’t read mine,” Mrs. Parker said. “It’s cynical tripe. Enjoy this feeling.”

“It’s not tripe. And anyway, maybe I need a little cynicism right now. I feel like some silly little girl with a terrible crush.”

“Of course you do. Most women would push their best friend overboard to sleep with a guy like that.”

“It’s not just about sex,” Violet said.

“But you
do
plan on sleeping with him?”

“I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”

“Liar.”

Violet laughed. Was she that transparent? “Right now I’m just hoping he asks me for a second date.”

“You didn’t make plans?”

“Not exactly,” Violet said, and heard her cell phone vibrate. “Wait a second—maybe that’s him.” She picked up her phone, and, sure enough, there was a text message from Michael. “He says Kara fell asleep less than two blocks from here.”

“What else?”

“He had a great time, and doesn’t think the girls are traumatized from the nudity.”

“And?”

“And he wants to know if I’m free this Wednesday.”

Violet looked up, smiling, and Mrs. Parker brought her small hands together in a clap of delight. “There you have it! Your happily ever after.”

Violet pressed reply and began typing a message.

Mrs. Parker frowned. “What on earth are you doing?”

“I’m saying yes.”

“Are you mad? Put down that damned contraption. Worst thing you can do is respond immediately.”

“You think?”

“If you never trust me again on a single thing, trust me on this. He can wait until tomorrow for your reply.”

Violet nodded. Dorothy Parker was right. She had already tipped her hand on her impatience to be kissed. No sense in showing him just how insanely eager she truly was. That could scare him off for sure.

She shut off her phone. “You’re right,” she said, and leaned back in her chair. When she realized she was jiggling her foot with nervous energy, she decided to change the subject to get her mind off the urge to text Michael back. And anyway, there was something she had been
meaning to discuss with her mentor, and this seemed like a good opportunity. “As long as we’re talking about happily ever afters,” she began, “can I ask you a question?”

“It’s still a free country, I believe.”

“One day I’m going to have to return this guest book to the Algonquin. The general manager is breathing down my neck. And even if he wasn’t, I can’t keep what isn’t mine.”

“Yes, of course. But I’m in no hurry. Time isn’t exactly in short supply with me.”

“That’s really what I wanted to ask you about.”

“We’re not going to have a conversation about eternity, are we?”

“Well, yes,” Violet said.

“How dreadfully dull.”

“Don’t you think about it?”

“I spent my whole life thinking about death. I even tried to hasten it a few times with the help of pills and razor blades. But now that I’m dead I can see it’s just as boring as a cocktail party when the bar runs dry.”

Her mentor was deflecting, but Violet was determined to stay on point. “You have a choice to make,” she said. “Either you plan on staying in the book forever or will one day go into the light.”

Mrs. Parker took a sip of her drink. “You put too much tonic water in this.”

“I know you don’t want to talk about this.”

“I just don’t see what the rush is,” Mrs. Parker said.

“I didn’t say there was a rush, it’s just that you’re all alone in there. Wouldn’t you be better off on the other side? I don’t mean now, or even anytime soon, but—”

“My dear child, what do you think is waiting for me on the other side?”

“You had a sister, too, didn’t you?”

“Helen.”

“Don’t you miss her?” Violet asked.

Mrs. Parker ignored the question and petted Cliché, studying his fur as if his dander held the answer. Violet waited and waited. Just when she decided her guest was not going to answer, Mrs. Parker looked up.

“Every single day,” she said.

“And what about your mother?” Violet asked.

“What about her?”

“Don’t you think about her, too?”

Mrs. Parker’s expression hardened. “My mother had the gall to up and die when I was five years old.”

“So you feel like she abandoned you?”

“Dear God, we’re not really going to discuss my childhood, are we?”

“But you do want to see her,” Violet said, “don’t you?”

The famous wit stared into her drink. “I don’t even remember her,” she said quietly.

“Deep down I’m sure you do. I mean, when you reunite…”

“This conversation is getting tiresome,” Mrs. Parker said, and drained the last few sips of her drink. “Fetch me another, will you, dear? Not so much tonic this time.”

Chapter 21

Violet knew better than to press Dorothy Parker on a subject she refused to discuss, so she let it go, and hoped that eventually her mentor would feel comfortable enough to open up.

In the meantime, Mrs. Parker had made a special request. She wanted to see Violet’s former nemesis, Andi, in action. And so Violet agreed to bring the guest book to the office, as long as Mrs. Parker promised to keep herself invisible.

“Someone’s birthday?” Travis asked, as she passed his office carrying a Macy’s box large enough to hold a folded winter jacket…or an open guest book stolen from the Algonquin Hotel.

“No, just…uh, something for a friend.”

Quite the riposte. You must be some kind of genius.

Sarcasm from a ghost, Violet thought. This could be a long day.

She laid the box on her credenza and got to work, hoping Dorothy Parker would behave herself and stay quiet. After scanning her e-mails to see if there was anything urgent, Violet’s first order of business was to read Andi’s review of the Matt Damon movie. She clicked into the document and ignored the distinct sound of buzzing as she tried to concentrate.

Is that the little shit’s review?

“Mm-hm,”
Violet said quietly.

Any good?

“It needs work,” Violet whispered. “But stop asking me questions. If anyone hears me talking to you, they’ll think I’m crazy.”

Someone coughed, and Violet looked up. It was Andi. standing at the door of her office holding a big, steaming cup of coffee—Violet’s coffee.

“Everything okay?” Andi asked.

“I was just…uh…reading something aloud. Why don’t you come in. We can talk about your review.”

Andi handed over the coffee and took the chair opposite Violet’s desk. “What do you think?” she said. “Do you like it?”

“There’s a lot of excellent stuff here,” Violet said, conscious of the fact that the best way to critique someone’s writing was to start with a positive. “I especially liked the line about the actors finding a chemistry that seemed to surprise them as much as it surprised the audience.”

Andi grinned. “That was my favorite part, too.”

“The trickiest thing about writing a review,” Violet continued, “is finding your own voice. It takes a bit of practice and a leap of faith. You have to acknowledge that your opinion has value and that the reader wants to know what
you,
Andi L. Cole, think of this movie.”

“You don’t think I found my voice?”

“It reads a little formally, like a book report.”

“I was trying to make it perfect.”

“I know,” Violet said, “but remember that you’re not trying to impress an English teacher.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You’ve got a big personality, Andi. God knows I’ve seen it. If you can capture some of that on paper, your review will sing.” Violet paused to let that sink in, but as she studied Andi’s face, it occurred to her that they were two sides of the same coin. Andi needed to bring her
real-life courage to the page, and Violet needed to bring her writer courage to real life.

Still, Andi looked skeptical.

“Trust me on this,” Violet said. “Take another crack at it. Write it like you’re talking to a friend.”

“Do you mind if I show it to Travis first?”

Violet sighed. Her protégée had a classic case of amateur’s hubris. She was so enamored of her own words she didn’t think a single one needed to be changed.

Don’t let her step on you,
Mrs. Parker buzzed.

I hadn’t intended to, Violet thought. She laced her fingers and leaned toward Andi.

“Actually,” she said, “I do mind. But I’ll make you a deal. You rewrite this, and if I find your revision acceptable, we’ll show both versions to Travis and get his opinion on which is best.”

God, that’s good. She’ll not only do the revision, but will start to understand just how much she really has to learn. You may be a genius after all.

Andi smiled. “That sounds great.”

Violet could tell the girl was sure her original version would be deemed brilliant by Travis. She really did have a lot to learn.

“Do you need me to do anything else this morning?” Andi asked.

“I forwarded you an e-mail from someone at ABC inviting me to appear in an upcoming
Good Morning America
segment about romantic comedies. Tell them thanks, but I can’t make it. Say I have a previous commitment.”

Andi opened her pad and wrote it down. “You always seem to be busy when these TV things come up.”

The girl has a point,
Mrs. Parker whispered. Violet ignored her.

“That’s no coincidence,” she said to Andi. “I don’t do television.”

“Why not?”

“I get too stressed. I do better in a dark theater than under the bright light of a camera.”

“Man, if I ever become a famous critic…”

“Something to strive for,” Violet said with a smile, and dismissed her apprentice, as she needed to go see Buck and Travis to discuss the upcoming issue.

Later, as the day was drawing toward an end and Violet was rushing through the final things she wanted to complete before heading home, the receptionist buzzed in to tell her Sandra Weber was on the line.

Violet couldn’t imagine why Delaney’s grandmother would be phoning her at work, so she closed her office door and took the call.

“Are you crazy?” Sandra said. It was more of an accusation than a question.

“What’s the matter?” Violet asked. “Is Delaney okay?”

“A nudie show? You took her to a
nudie
show?”

“Oh, that. Listen, Sandra—”

“The child is thirteen years old! Are you insane or just perverted?”

“Calm down.”

“I will
not
calm down! This is my grandchild. After all this girl has been through, how could you!”

“If you give me a second to explain—”

“A naked man!” Sandra said. “With his
penis
showing!”

“I didn’t know there was going to be nudity,” Violet said, and noticed that Dorothy Parker’s form began to appear in the chair opposite her desk.

“That’s pretty darned irresponsible, don’t you think? I mean, you take a child to a show and you don’t even know that it’s pornographic?”

“It wasn’t pornographic, I promise you.”

“A penis!” Sandra shrieked.

Her voice was loud enough to carry, and Dorothy Parker’s eyebrows raised.

“I know. Yes, a penis. But it was actually a comedy.”

“So you think this is funny?” Sandra said, still shouting.

“It’s amusing the hell out of
me,
” Mrs. Parker said.

Violet shook her head at Dorothy Parker and put her finger to her lips. She hoped her mentor would get the message that she needed to keep her mouth shut.

“I wanted to leave the second I realized there was nudity,” Violet said, “but she seemed fine with it. It was a judgment call.”

“That’s the kind of judgment this child doesn’t need. And if you think you’ve got a chance of getting custody now, you’re even crazier than I thought.”

“You’re overreacting,” Violet said.

“Am I? You’re lucky I’m still letting you have visitation!”

“Honestly, Sandra, Delaney is fine. This is a big nothing.”

“I doubt the man whose penis was dangling in her face thinks it’s a big nothing!”

Dorothy Parker opened her mouth to speak, and Violet waved her hands frantically. This was no time for a wisecrack.

“I know you think she’s traumatized by this,” Violet said, “but I guarantee it wasn’t the first time she saw a penis.” As soon as she said it, she realized it was a mistake.

“What do you mean!” Sandra said. “Is there something I should know? Have you taken her to other pornographic shows? Oh, this poor child!”

“That’s not what I meant,” Violet said. “But, you know, they do sex education in school. I’m sure they’ve discussed both male and female anatomy.”