Loving (36 page)

"I don't want to talk about it, Norton. Tell everyone I've left the country for six months and you can't get in touch. And if they bug me, I'll make it a year."

"Terrific. I'll be sure to tell them. And look, Bettina, if you change your mind, will you call me?"

"Of course, Norton. You know I will."

But she didn't. She spent the time peacefully with her children. Once she went up to visit Mary and Seth. But she seldom left her house, or her children, and she seemed to have grown oddly quiet since Ollie's death. On Thanksgiving Seth and Mary noticed it when they arrived with the entire brood. It was a lovely family Thanksgiving, but Oliver's absence was sorely felt.

"How's it going, Betty?" Mary watched her closely as they sat in the garden. Something deep down inside her seemed to have changed. She was quieter, colder, more remote, yet she was also more sure of herself. She seemed much older than she had a year before.

Bettina smiled slowly. "It's going all right. I still miss him though. And there are things I still think about that I wish I could change."

"Like what?"

"I wish I'd married him sooner. It made him so happy, I don't know why I had to hold out till the end."

"You were still growing. He understood that."

"I know he did. Looking back at it, I realize that he understood too much. Everything was for my sake, everything he did was for me. He gave up his job in New York on the paper, took a leave of absence here so he could come to New York when I did the play. In retrospect it all seems so unfair." She looked at Mary unhappily as she thought of it, but Mary shook her head.

"He didn't mind it. He told me that, once. His career wasn't as Important to him as yours is to you." She didn't dare tell her that what she needed now was a man as powerful and successful as she. Even her face had changed. There was a kind of angular beauty that commanded attention, and the simplicity of her black wool dress and her Jewelry spelled success. She had finally unearthed all her old jewelry, from her father, from Ivo, all of it, and she wore it almost every day. She looked down at the large diamond, smiling now as Mary watched her.

"I don't know. Maybe I'm spending too much time reliving my past."

"Are you just brooding about it, or do you understand it better than you did?"

"I don't know, Mary." Her eyes looked dreamy and distant. I think I just accept it all better now. It has somehow become a part of me." Mary watched her with a small smile of pleasure and nodded her head. That was what she had always hoped for. For Bettina to accept who and what she was. The only thing that made her unhappy was to see Bettina living a life behind locked doors.

"Do you see anyone?"

"Only you and the children."

"Why don't you?"

"I don't want to. Why should I? So they can gossip that they finally met me, the playwright with four husbands ... Justin Daniels's eccentric daughter ...? Who needs it? For the moment I'm a lot happier living like this."

"I wouldn't exactly call it living, Betty. Would you?"

Bettina shrugged. "I have what I want."

"No, you don't. You're a young woman, you deserve more than solitude, Bettina. You deserve people and parties and laughter; you deserve to enjoy your success."

Bettina smiled at her in answer. "Just look at all this." She waved at the beauty of the garden and the house.

"That's not what I mean, Bettina, and you know it. This is pretty, but it Isn't a substitute for friends.... " She hesitated, and then said it, "... or a man." Bettina met her eyes squarely.

"Is that what it's all about, Mary? A man? Is that the whole story? That life isn't complete without a man? Don't you think that maybe I've had enough?"

"At thirty-six? I hope not. What do you have in mind for yourself? To just sit here and give up?"

"What are you suggesting? That I run out and audition all over again? Don't you think four husbands is an outrageously high quota for anyone, or are you suggesting that I try for five?" She looked very angry.

"Maybe." And then after a moment, "Why not?"

"Because maybe I don't need one. Maybe I don't want to get married anymore."

But Mary wouldn't be put off that easily. "If I thought you meant that for the right reasons, I'd get off your back. No one has to get married, Bettina. That isn't the only name of the game. But you can't spend the rest of your life lonely because you're afraid of what people will say. And that's what it's all about with you, isn't it? You think that if you take your shirt off, someone will rush up and brand you with four letter A's. Well, you're wrong, for chrissake. Very much so. I love you, Seth does. I don't give a damn if you get married another twelve times, or you don't, for that matter. But out there is someone, Bettina, someone who is as strong, as successful, as special, and as splendid as you. You deserve to find him, to let him knew you, so you don't sit here for the rest of your life all alone. You don't have to get married if you don't want to, for God's sake, who the hell cares? But don't sit here, Bettina, behind your goddamn fortress doors." Bettina looked at her sadly, and Mary saw that there were tears in her eyes. She thought that maybe she'd reached her, and when Bettina went inside without answering, she was almost sure.

They left at the end of the weekend, and before they got on the plane, Bettina held Mary close.

"Thank you."

"For what?" And then she understood. "Don't be silly." Slowly she smiled at her. "One day you may have to give me a good kick in the ass too."

"I doubt it." And then she smiled broadly too. "But then again your life hasn't been as exotic as mine." And for an instant, only an instant, Mary thought that Bettina looked proud.

"What are you going to do now, Betty?" Seth leaned over to ask her.

"Call Norton and tell him I'm getting back to work. By now I'm sure he's given up on me."

"I doubt it." Mary was quick to answer, and then hurriedly they boarded the plane.

"Well, Rip van Winkle, coming out of hibernation, are you?"

"All right, Norton," she said, chuckling softly, "it was only six months."

"It might as well have been six years. Do you have any idea how many people I've turned away since you decided to 'retire,' temporarily, thank God?"

"Don't tell me." She was still smiling. It was the first of December and she was feeling good.

"I won't. Now what do you have planned before we cross wires again?"

"Absolutely nothing."

"You're not starting work on a new play?"

"No, as a matter of fact, I don't want to. I want to stay out here for a while. It'll be too hard on the children if I start dragging them back and forth to New York every year."

"All right, it doesn't make any difference. You have enough offers to write movies to keep you busy for the next ten years."

"Like from whom?" She sounded instantly suspicious and he went down the list. When he was finished she nodded, approving. "I'd say that's quite a few. Whom do you suggest I talk to first?"

"Bill Hale." He answered instantly and she closed her eyes.

"Oh, Christ, Norton, not him."

"Why? He's a genius. And he's doing producing now, As a matter of fact he's about as brilliant as you."

"Terrific. So find me someone a little less brilliant who wants to talk."

"Why?" He was intrigued.

"Because everyone says he's an asshole."

"In business?" Norton was stunned.

"No, personally. He collects women, wives, mistresses, who needs it?"

"No one asked you to marry him, for chrissake, Bettina. Just discuss this movie idea he has in mind."

"Do I have to?"

"Will you do it if I say yes?" He sounded hopeful.

"Probably not." They both laughed. "Look, I just don't want to put myself in an awkward situation. The guy has a legendary case of hot pants, which I hear he wears regularly to work."

"So carry a tray of ice cubes and bring a pair of brass knuckles, but do me a favor, Bettina, after six months on your ass and not answering the phone, at least go to lunch with the guy. You and he are the two hottest people in the business these days. It's insane for you not to listen to what he has to say."

"Okay, Norton. You win."

"Do you want me to set it up from here? Or will you?"

"You do it. I don't want to be bothered." Suddenly the voice of her father echoed in her own head. So that was how it had felt....

"Any place special you want to see him?"

"No. If he's as big a phony as I think he is, he'll probably want to meet at the Polo Lounge at the Beverly Hills Hotel, so he can play Mister Hollywood and get paged every five minutes on the phone."

"So I'll call you every five minutes too, all right?"

"Fine."

And then suddenly he remembered something, but he didn't want to ask her. He was sure that she and Ollie had rented an apartment from him once, a long time before, in New York. But he figured it was just as well not to bring up Ollie. She had enough pain, and he knew that it had been a major blow when he died. She had had a lot of tough things happen, but on the other hand, he shrugged to himself as he dialed Bill Hale, she had had a lot of good things happen too. In some ways it was a story not unlike Bill Hale's.

He got through to Bill's secretary fairly quickly, and a moment later he was speaking to him. They agreed on the following Monday, but contrary to Bettina's prediction he asked if he might stop by her house after lunch.

"Is he kidding?" She was shocked when Norton called. "Why does he want to do a thing like that?"

"He said it is less distracting than trying to talk in a restaurant with waiters and phones, and he thought that maybe you'd feel uncomfortable going to his place to see him."

"So be it." She shrugged and hung up, and the following Monday, she dressed slowly an hour before he was due. She was wearing a deep purple suit that she had ordered from London, and it was a wonderful anemone color in a lovely thin wool. She wore a white silk blouse with it, and the amethyst earrings her father had given her. Her hair was soft and loose and the color of autumn in New England, and as she took a last look in the mirror she heard the bell. It didn't really matter what she looked like, but as long as she was going back to doing business, she might as well look like who she was. Not Justin Daniels's daughter, or Ivo Stewarts wife, or Mrs. John Fields, or even Mrs. Oliver Paxton. She was Bettina Daniels. And whatever else she was, she knew she was a damn good playwright, and after a hell of a lot of pain and mistakes she knew one other thing. She was whole.

"Mister Hale?" She eyed him archly as he stepped inside. Like her, he had dressed for the occasion and he was wearing a dark blue pin-striped business suit, a dark blue Christian Dior tie, and an especially starched white shirt. She had to admit to herself that he was well dressed and good-looking, but she didn't really care. He nodded politely when he saw her and held out his right hand.

"Bill, please. Miss Daniels?"

"Bettina." His formalities over, she led him into her living room and took a chair. Her housekeeper appeared a moment later with a large handsome lacquer tray. There was both tea and coffee, a plate of little sandwiches, and cookies that Alexander had eyed longingly that morning before school.

"Good heavens, I didn't mean to put you to all this trouble." She said something vague about it not being any trouble as she tried to decide if he was plastic or real.

After a few moments, as he drank coffee and she sipped her tea, they began to talk business, and it was two hours later when they stopped. She had to admit that she loved his idea and she was smiling as they slowly wound the meeting to a close.

"Should I call your agent and discuss the vulgar aspects of it with him?"

She laughed as he said it and nodded slowly, narrowing her eyes.

"You know, I like you a lot better than I thought I would," he said.

She looked at him, torn between amusement and astonishment and she laughed. "Why?"

"Well, you know, Justin Daniels's daughter.... " He looked apologetic. "You could have turned out to be one hell of a snob."

"And I didn't turn out to be?"

"No, you're not." And then, feeling bold as she looked at him, she chuckled too.

"I like you better too."

"And what strike did I have against me? I didn't have a famous father."

"No, but you have other sins from what I hear." She eyed him frankly, and he nodded, meeting her green eyes with his blue.

"The bluebeard reputation?" She nodded. "Charming, isn't it?" He didn't look angry, only lonely, and then he met her eyes again. "People love to catch tidbits, there's a lot they talk about that they don't understand." And then he told her honestly, I've been married four times. My first wife died in a plane crash, my second left me after"--he seemed to hesitate for a moment--"after our life fell apart. My third was something of a dreamer, and six months after we got married she realized that what she really wanted was to join the Peace Corps, and my fourth," --he stopped with a broad grin--"was a raving bitch," For a moment Bettina laughed with him, and then slowly something gentle fell over her eyes.

"I don't have any right to quibble with all that."

"Why not? Everyone else does." She was oddly touched by his honesty and embarrassed at what she had thought. But suddenly she was laughing and she hid behind her napkin. All he could see were the dancing green eyes.

"I've been married four times too."

But suddenly they were both laughing. "Why, you ... and here I was feeling guilty!" He looked like a kid who had discovered a friend with something in common, but she had sat up with a girlish look on her face too.

"Do you feel guilty?"

"Sure, I do. Four wives, are you kidding? That's not wholesome!"

"Oh, Jesus ... so do I!"

"You should. And you should feel a lot guiltier for not telling me sooner." He nibbled a cookie, sat back in his chair, and grinned. "So tell me about yours."

"One lovely man who was a lot older than I was."

"How much is a lot? You were sixteen and he was nineteen?"