Stars Over Sunset Boulevard (22 page)

“Where are my clothes from yesterday?” she said.

“In the little closet in your room, I think. Why?”

Audrey pressed her hand against the nursery window and gazed at her daughter. “We're leaving.”

“We are?”

“Yes.”

Audrey turned from the glass to head to the nurses' station. An older woman in a white cap looked up, surprised to see Audrey out of bed.

“Why, Mrs. Kluge, you should be resting,” the nurse said, wide-eyed.

“I prefer to rest at home. We'd like to leave now.”

She looked from Violet to Audrey. “But the doctor hasn't made his rounds yet. You just had a baby.”

“I had a baby last night. My third. Both of us are fine. So if you could just draw up my discharge papers?”

“Mrs. Kluge, this is highly irregular! And you haven't filled out the form for the birth certificate yet.”

“I'd be happy to do that. Give it to me and I will do it right now. And then I want you to draw up my discharge papers.”

The nurse stared at Audrey for several seconds before reaching into a file that had already been readied for later and pulling out an official-looking form.

Audrey read the top line:
Certificate of Live Birth, County of Santa Barbara
.

“And a pen?” she said, urgency in her tone.

A pen was handed to her, and Audrey hurried through
the form as if she were underwater and couldn't draw breath until she was finished with it.

Father's Name:
Bert Redmond.

Mother's Name:
Violet Redmond.

She would've run to her room to change into her clothes had her body allowed it.

Christmas Eve 1942

V
iolet extracted the gingerbread-men cookie cutters from the cloth bag that Delores had kept them in since Bert was a baby and tossed them into the sink. Delores had so badly wanted Bert to have his favorite gingerbread men for his Christmas homecoming that Violet felt compelled to use the remainder of the month's sugar ration to make them, even though she would've rather been in the living room with Bert and the baby at that moment.

She ran some hot water into the sink to rinse off the cutters and cast a glance over her shoulder into the other room. Delores was sitting in her favorite chair, listening to Christmas carols on the Victrola, while Bert was on the sofa, cuddling his infant daughter. In the far corner of the living room, a Norwegian white pine bought at the Boy Scouts' tree lot had been decorated with ornaments from as far back as Bert's childhood. Presents that would be
opened in the morning lay underneath it. Lainey was smiling up at Bert, and he was making silly noises to encourage her grins. Bert had been home for only two days and already Lainey had taken to him as though he had been there for the entire duration of her seven-week existence. It had been nothing short of wonderful having Bert home to share the joy and work of parenting an infant.

Violet had supposed that life took on new meaning when a woman became a mother, but she had no idea just how much. Lainey was a good baby, but she was still a sweet little bundle of demands—morning, noon, and night. And as much as Violet had always wanted to be a mother, she had little experience with infants. She missed not being near her own mother and resented that Delores was so frail that Violet could not leave her to go home to Montgomery. The past seven weeks had almost been like taking care of two helpless people.

And yet she still loved her reinvented life. The only thing her wonderful new universe had lacked was Bert's presence. He wrote every week and called on Sundays, but this was what she had longed for: seeing him cuddling Lainey on the couch and loving the child like Violet did.

She wished it could be just the three of them for Christmas.

Violet turned back to the cutters in the sink, pulling them out a bit savagely and tossing them onto a towel to dry them off. She wished Delores had gone to be with one of her daughters for the holidays and, yes, she wished Audrey wasn't coming. Violet hadn't actually invited Audrey; she'd just telephoned earlier that month and asked if it wouldn't be too much trouble if she came. She'd said she'd get a hotel room, since with Lainey now sleeping in the nursery, there wasn't an extra bedroom for guests. The sofa in the living room was the only other option and Violet hadn't offered it.

It wasn't that Violet didn't want to see Audrey; it was just that this was their first Christmas, Bert's and hers, as parents. And they hadn't seen each other in weeks. She also didn't think that it was wise for Audrey to be around Lainey right then. It had been so hard for Audrey when she left Lainey with Violet the day after she had given birth to her. Audrey had called a couple of times to see how Violet was and to inquire if she needed anything, and Violet had heard the longing in Audrey's voice when she asked about Lainey. Audrey surely needed more distance. It wasn't like Lainey was going to remember Aunt Audrey had been there, anyway.

But the real reason Violet wished Audrey wasn't coming was that Violet still dreamed from time to time that Audrey had changed her mind and wanted Lainey back. She tried not to dwell on that dreadful thought during her waking hours, but it kept sneaking up on her. Violet already loved Lainey like she was her own flesh and blood.

She couldn't bear it if Audrey were to try to get Lainey back.

Violet forced herself to concentrate on the task at hand: rolling out the gingerbread dough, carefully cutting the shapes, and using a floured spatula to slide them onto the cookie sheet. The dough smelled spicy and sweet as she worked with it, and the aroma teased her into believing it was Christmas and therefore all was well. She opened the oven and put the first dozen inside and then began working on the second batch. As she was carefully cutting the last man for the next tray, Violet heard, from the open window over the sink, a car pulling up outside.

Audrey emerged from the vehicle with shopping bags brimming with beribboned presents. She was wearing a scarlet dress with white trim and shiny black pumps, and
her long, coffee brown hair was pulled back with a wide crimson ribbon. She bore no trace of having had a child a little less than two months earlier. The black belt at her waist was cinched tight, and as she moved away from her car and began to walk up the narrow cement path to the front door, she looked like she was stepping out of a
Vogue
photo shoot.

Instinctively, Violet reached up to smooth back the hair from her face and then wiped floured hands on her dark green apron. Ghostlike images of her palms appeared on the fabric.

She moved to the entrance to the living room, and Bert looked up from the cooing baby in his arms.

“Is she here?” he asked.

Violet nodded and Bert got to his feet. She turned and reached for the doorknob, but before she could turn it, three knocks landed on the other side. When Violet opened the door, Audrey was framed in a halo of light, just like she had been the last time she'd arrived from Hollywood in the late afternoon.

“Merry Christmas, Audrey!” Violet said brightly, forcing a happy smile.

Audrey stepped forward across the threshold, plopped the bags down on the floor, and wrapped her arms around Violet. “Oh, Violet. It's so good to be in this house again! Thanks so much for letting me come.”

“Of course!”

Audrey broke off the embrace and said a cordial hello to Delores, still sitting in her armchair. Then her gaze traveled to Bert standing behind his wife. Audrey's eyes misted over in an instant at the sight of the infant in his arms.

“Oh, my! Look how big she is!” Audrey whispered, her voice as fragile as lace.

Bert took a few steps forward. He seemed a bit tentative, too, Violet noted, and she was glad of it.

“Hello, Audrey.” He leaned forward to plant a gentle kiss on her cheek. Lainey in his arms prevented him from embracing her.

“Bert,” Audrey said as she blinked back tears that refused to be quelled. “You look different. I don't know if it's because you're a father now or because someone is trying to make a soldier out of you.”

Bert's grin in return was genuine and full. He was happy to see his old friend. Happy to have her in his home. The baby lifted a little fist out from under her blanket as if to say she, too, was happy to welcome Audrey.

The odor of something charred suddenly filled Violet's nostrils.

She turned toward the kitchen. Tendrils of smoke were curling out of the vents in the oven door. Her gingerbread men were burning.

“Oh!” Violet dashed into the kitchen, grabbed two hot pads, and pulled open the oven door. More smoke billowed out. She reached inside for the tray of blackened cookies, yanked them out, and tossed the hot sheet onto the tile counter. She opened the window fully and coaxed the smoke outside with the hot pads. When she finally went back to the living room, only Delores was looking in her direction. Bert and Audrey were gazing at the baby and smiling, completely unaware, or at least undisturbed, by the fiasco in the kitchen.

Violet strode toward Bert, Audrey, and Lainey.

“Did you burn them all?” Delores asked as Violet walked past her armchair.

Violet pretended not to have heard her. She reached Bert, put an arm around his waist, and leaned into him so
that the amalgam of father, mother, and child couldn't possibly be missed.

“She's so beautiful,” Audrey said, smiling up at Violet.

“Well, of course,” Bert replied. “How could she not be beautiful?”

Audrey smiled at the veiled compliment.

Violet was about to ask Audrey if she'd care to sit down and make herself comfortable when Bert asked if she'd like to hold Lainey.

Audrey looked from Bert to Violet to Bert again. “May I?”

Bert waited for Violet to answer. It was almost as if he could tell she was hesitant.

“Of course,” Violet said after a moment's pause.

Bert extended the baby toward Audrey. She took Lainey into her arms effortlessly, without the slightest awkward jostle.

“Hello, little angel,” Audrey murmured as she walked slowly to the sofa and sat down with the baby close to her chest. “My, how you've grown. And look at you smiling already!”

Bert returned to the couch and sat down next to Audrey. “Violet said she just started doing that a few days ago.”

Audrey bent down to snuggle Lainey and Bert laughed.

“Did you burn all the cookies, Violet?” Delores asked again from her armchair.

Violet couldn't stomach much more of the scene on the couch. The sooner she served dinner, the sooner Audrey would go to her hotel for the night. It was only a bit after three now, though. Too soon to get the food on the table.

“Did you put the oven on too high?”

Violet turned to her mother-in-law. “I don't have the
oven on too high. I just got sidetracked for a moment. I'm making some more.”

She had just started to turn toward the kitchen when she heard Bert tell Audrey that she didn't have to go to a hotel that night if she didn't want to. The sofa was hers if she wanted it.

“The sofa's not comfortable enough to sleep on, Bert.” The words flew out of Violet's mouth. “And there's absolutely no privacy.”

Audrey gazed at Violet for a second before turning to face Bert. “And you only just got home, Bert. I don't mind sleeping elsewhere tonight.”

“It's Christmas Eve,” he said insistently. “Do you really want to wake up Christmas morning in a hotel room?”

Audrey was at a loss for what to do; Violet could see that. Her friend looked down at the baby in her arms as a weak smile broke across her face. “I probably outstayed my welcome the last time I was here, Bert. I was here for a
long
time.”

“You didn't outstay your welcome,” Delores chimed in. “I can sleep on the couch and you can have my bed.”

“Oh, I couldn't let you do that, Delores,” Audrey said quickly.

“It's just one night, Audrey,” Bert said. “We want you here. Don't we, Violet?”

Three sets of eyes were on her. Violet cleared her throat. “Yes. Please do stay here tonight, Audrey,” Violet heard herself saying. “Bert's right. You don't want to wake up in a hotel on Christmas. You're coming back to the house in the morning, anyway. If you don't mind the couch, you should just stay here.”

Audrey held Violet's gaze for a moment. “If you're sure I won't be in the way.”

“You're not in the way,” Bert said reassuringly.

“All right.”

“Then it's all settled.” Bert started to stand. “I'll just go get your suitcase from your car.”

Audrey reached out with one hand to stop him. “Actually, Bert, it's just a travel bag, and I don't need it right this minute. Here. Sit back down with your little girl. You'll be having to report back to the Army post before you know it. You don't want to miss out on any cuddle time. And I want to help Violet make the cookies.”

She transferred the baby back into Bert's arms and kissed Lainey's forehead just before she stood up.

Audrey crossed the room and linked her arm with Violet's. They turned toward the kitchen.

“I love making cookies at Christmastime,” Audrey said, and leaned her head toward Violet's. “My mom and I used to do this together. It was always such a special time. Just her and me.”

“I'm not very good at gingerbread men,” Violet said.

“I'm not very good at baking any kind of cookie.” Audrey laughed. “But it's not about the cookies, really. It's about the time you spend with the person you make them with.”

Violet handed Audrey the apron that Delores used to wear and that Audrey had worn when she was pregnant and living there. Bantam roosters strutted across the front of it.

Even though it had been only been a matter of weeks since Audrey left, it was different having her at the house now. Bert was home, for one thing, and Lainey was no longer hidden from view within Audrey's body. It was almost as if Violet and Audrey had nothing in common anymore. For one fleeting moment, Violet missed the way it was when she first arrived in Hollywood and she and
Audrey were just secretaries at a studio. The filming of
Gone With the Wind
had only just begun and everything seemed new and exciting. There was no war, and curly-haired Bert, who hadn't yet held a rifle or been shown how to point it at someone and pull the trigger, had been utterly convinced there was a nightingale on Sunset Boulevard, calling for its lover against a star-studded sky. Back then Violet had longed for what she now had—a husband and a child—yet an ache seized her as she remembered the way things used to be. She handed the apron to Audrey.

Audrey took the apron. The look on her face was one of understanding, as if she was thinking the same thing.

“Thank you, Violet.”

She tied the apron around her slim waist.

•   •   •

Hours later, Violet awoke in the middle of the night, surprised that she hadn't heard from Lainey. Then she realized Bert wasn't in bed with her, and she smiled as she pictured him in the nursery in the rocking chair, whispering sweet nonsense to Lainey while she had her bottle. But then she heard voices in the living room.

She got out of bed and tiptoed down the hall. Bert and Audrey were talking in low tones. She couldn't see them from where she stood hidden from view, but she could hear them. And she could hear Lainey. One of them was holding her while she sucked on a bottle. Violet could hear the sweet little sounds the baby made when she drank.

Audrey was telling Bert that she thought the man she was seeing now, Glen Wainwright, was going to ask her to marry him. Audrey had told Violet plenty of things about her new beau, including that he was quite a bit older than her, as they'd rolled out the gingerbread dough, but
not that she was expecting a proposal from him. Bert had coaxed it out of her somehow and it stung that he had.