The Ladies of Garrison Gardens (12 page)

Chapter Twenty-two

T
HE WORLD IS FULL
of
ifs
and
maybes
. If Fritzie hadn't barked at that very moment, maybe Mama never would have thought of her terrible plan. And if Charles Lindbergh hadn't flown across the Atlantic Ocean and had a ticker-tape parade, maybe Mama wouldn't have come up with a way to make her plan work. But Fritzie had barked, Lucky Lindy had landed safely in Paris, his parade was scheduled for the following Monday, and Mama had her plan. When Iva Claire heard it, her heart sank.

“You want to steal Fritzie's collar and pawn it?”

“I won't steal it, Claire de Lune, I'll
borrow
it. We'll give it back.”

They were back downstairs in their sitting room now. Mama had closed the window in case their voices carried out to the street, and they were whispering so no one could hear them through the walls. The whole idea was so unreal, it was funny, but Mama wasn't laughing.

“We'll pawn the collar and get enough money to pay the inspector. Then when we're paid, we'll redeem the collar and put it back where we found it.”

“Mama, you can't.”

“The old man will never know it's gone. He doesn't put it on the dog every day.”

“But what if Pete looks for it?”

“It'll be gone for three days, that's all. Your precious Pete will never know.”

“Maybe we could borrow the money, Mama.” But the only people they knew well enough to ask were Pete and Big Hannah. Pete didn't have it to spare, and they already owed Big Hannah for the rent. Then she thought of something. “Mama, what about the checks? Maybe whoever sends them could give us some more—”

“No.” Her mother's voice cracked like a whip.

Years later, when she looked back on the moment, Iva Claire thought maybe if she'd been a little older she would have resisted Mama. Or if she'd had a life of her own with school and friends her own age maybe she could have put up more of a fight. But she was only twelve. And trying to make Mama happy was what her life was about.

“All right, Mama, we'll do it,” she said softly.

Mama's eyes filled with tears, and she hugged Iva Claire hard.

“It'll be easy, Claire de Lune, you'll see. Everyone in the boardinghouse is going to Lindbergh's parade. I'll take the collar then.”

Iva Claire looked at her mother and thought about how quickly Mama got angry and how easily she cried. She thought about how Mama got carried away and spent all their money even when she didn't mean to. And she made a decision.

“Let me do it, Mama,” she said.

And for a long time after that, she would remember that her mother only hesitated for a second before she said yes.

Chapter Twenty-three

T
HE MORNING OF THE PARADE,
it seemed like the whole city of New York was having a holiday that was as good as Christmas, your birthday, and the Fourth of July all rolled into one. As she walked to Fifth Avenue surrounded by laughing, excited people who were going out to celebrate, Iva Claire wished with everything she had that she could be one of them.

Don't think about it
, she told herself.

She'd been telling herself that all morning. It had kept her from crying when she looked at Pete across the breakfast table, and when Big Hannah handed her a box camera, and said, “Here, child, this is for you. You'll show your grandchildren the snapshots you took today.”

Don't think about it.

The parade was starting at the Battery and coming up Fifth Avenue. The group from the boardinghouse was going to watch from the front of the New York City Public Library. They left right after breakfast, but by the time they reached the library steps a big crowd had already formed. This was what Iva Claire and Mama had been counting on. Iva Claire asked Mama if she could go off on her own and try to get closer to Fifth Avenue. Mama said yes, but if Iva Claire got lost, they would all meet after the parade near one of the lions in front of the library. Then Mama told her to have fun, gave her a quick kiss, and sent her off.

Iva Claire was careful to turn back a couple of times and wave at her mother as if she was trying to keep her in sight. Then she ducked in and around the clumps of people as fast as she could until she was out of the crowd. At the outer fringe she stopped, took a deep breath, and started walking fast back to Hell's Kitchen.

As she was taking out her key to unlock the boardinghouse front door, it occurred to her that someone might see her there on the stoop. She and Mama had assumed everyone would go to the parade, but what if one of the neighbors hadn't? What if one of them was home right now looking out the front window?

Don't think about it.

She went in.

The parlor was dark, but she knew what she was looking for. There was a rolltop desk where Big Hannah kept a spare key for every room in the house. It took less than a minute to find the one with Pete's name on it, and a couple of minutes more to climb the stairs and unlock his door. She stopped on the threshold with her heart beating hard. Pete had never asked her to come into his room.

The box camera was in the way—she hadn't known what to do with it—so she put it on the floor outside the door and went in. Pete's single room was the same size as the one Mama used as a bedroom, but Mama's room always looked like she was about to move out of it. Pete's was crammed full of things. There were shelves full of scrapbooks and the kind of knickknacks people pick up in hotels and train stations. Framed publicity stills of a young Pete with Sally and their dogs were on the walls. This was Pete's home.

Don't think about it
.

Iva Claire scanned the room for Fritzie's costume trunk, where Pete had once told her he kept the collar. The trunk was in a corner near the bed. She started for it. A sound from behind made her jump. She whirled around to see Fritzie sighing in sleep on the bed.

Iva Claire made her mind a blank and waited, watching the bed. Fritzie shifted position but she didn't wake up. Iva Claire moved quickly to the trunk. It was the same size as the one she'd had when she started touring with Mama, back when she was five. But this one was painted gold, with
FRITZIE
spelled out in hundreds of rhinestones across the front.

The trunk was latched but not locked. Being careful not to scrape it on the floor or move it out of position, she pulled it open. Fritzie's costumes were folded neatly in the little drawers—tiny brightly colored outfits trimmed with gold braid.

The collar was in the bottom drawer, hidden under Fritzie's red jacket. Iva Claire took it out slowly, being careful to put the jacket back exactly the way she found it. The gold collar gleamed in her hand. Suddenly there was an explosion of barking from the bed. For the second time she jumped and whirled around while ice water poured down her spine.

An ecstatic Fritzie was wide awake, making a racket and wagging her tail. She'd seen the collar and thought she was going to do her act.

“No, Fritzie,” she heard herself say. “Please.”

Fritzie didn't jump well anymore, but she managed a stiff-legged leap off the bed.

“Please.”

The little dog pulled herself up on her hind legs and began her bow with her front paws outstretched, turning to the left and the right. But there was no Pete to help her. As Iva Claire watched, she lost her balance and fell.

“Fritzie, I'm so sorry,” she whispered.

She started for the door. The little dog scrambled to her feet and ran around in front of her. Iva Claire closed her eyes to keep the tears from spilling out. Soft fur brushed her legs, little paws scratched at her shins; if she opened her eyes or looked down, she'd be lost. Blindly she grabbed the doorknob behind her, opened it, and ran out. From the other side of the door she heard Fritzie's mournful little yelps. The sound followed her as she remembered to pick up the camera, hid the collar under the mattress in Mama's bedroom, returned Pete's key, and raced out of the boardinghouse.

Don't think about it, don't think about it, don't think about it.

She ran back to Fifth Avenue, where she stopped in dismay. The crowd had gotten bigger. There was no way she could ever get close enough to the curb to see the parade. But she'd have to be able to talk about it. In a few days, Big Hannah would ask to see the pictures she'd taken. What was she going to say?

Later, all she would remember was how easily all the lies had come to her and how calm she'd felt. First, she opened the camera and exposed the film to the light. When the ruined negatives came back from the pharmacy, she told herself, she'd have to try to cry in front of Big Hannah.

Next, she got herself as close as she could to Fifth Avenue and waited. She thought she saw something that looked like ticker tape coming from the windows in the buildings across the street, but she really wasn't sure. It would be best not to mention that, she decided. Through the crowd, she heard a band playing, and then there was some clapping and cheering, but only in spots, and it seemed far away. Then the applause became a roar that surrounded her and went on and on. Obviously, Lucky Lindy was going by. She kept on waiting.

Finally the crowd began to break up. Groups of people were walking away from the avenue, laughing and calling out to one another. She watched them pass, until she spotted two kids, younger than she was, walking behind a man and a woman who were obviously their parents. She cut in next to them and began walking.

“Which part did you think was the best?” she asked the boy. Before he could open his mouth, his sister was offering her opinion.

By the time they reached Broadway, Iva Claire knew Lucky Lindy hadn't walked in the parade, he'd been in a car. She knew approximately how long the parade had been, and that the little girl's favorite float had models of the Statue of Liberty and the Eiffel Tower with the Spirit of St. Louis flying between them. The family turned to go south on Broadway and Iva Claire hurried back to the lions in front of the New York Public Library. She was in place just minutes before Big Hannah, Mama, and Pete came to find her.

The walk home wasn't difficult. She talked about the Statue of Liberty float and all the pictures she'd taken of Lucky Lindy in his car. Big Hannah and Pete both laughed, enjoying her childish pleasure in the great day.

And a voice inside her head said,
I'm good at this. I lie to people who are my friends and take things that aren't mine and I'm good at it.
And suddenly she felt very cold. But then another, more familiar voice came to the rescue.

Don't think about it.

Where is it?” Mama whispered, when they were back in their rooms. Iva Claire went into the bedroom and got the collar from under the mattress.

Mama sighed with relief. “I knew you could do it.”

She wanted to throw the collar out the window. She wanted to confess what she'd done to Big Hannah and Pete and apologize with all her heart. She wanted to promise God or someone she'd never ever do anything terrible again. And a week ago, maybe even yesterday, she would have believed she could make that promise. But now she knew better. Because now she knew too much about herself.

She handed the collar to her mother. “Yes,” she said. “I did it.”

Chapter Twenty-four

W
HEN THEY FINALLY
did perform the Beautiful Dreamer act at the Chevalier, Iva Claire didn't really care whether it was good or bad. Mama had taken the collar to a pawnshop, gotten the money, and the Gerry Society inspector had taken the bribe. But none of it mattered.

Their first show was at eleven thirty in the morning. She and Mama sat side by side in their cramped dressing room, sharing the makeup mirror and the communal makeup table. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mama's hands shake from stage fright as she lined her eyes with clown white, but her own hands were steady. Mama was chattering in a high, scared voice about agents and scouts and their wonderful future. All Iva Claire wanted to do was get through the next two days so they could get paid and buy back Fritzie's collar.

Finally, the last bead of mascara had been applied to the false eyelashes, and the final coating of powder was dusted over the greasepaint. Mama had tweaked and puffed their costumes, and the silk roses that cost so much had been pinned in their hair. Downstairs the movie was halfway finished, and below the stage, the musicians were making their way into the darkened orchestra pit where the sheet music for “Beautiful Dreamer” had already been placed on stands. Mama kissed the rabbit's foot she always carried with her, and they hurried down the metal stairs.

Backstage, as they waited in the wings to go on, Mama grabbed a passing stagehand by his sleeve. “Who's out there? What agency?” she whispered. The man shrugged and walked away. But then the movie screen went up, the show curtain came whooshing down, and they were on.

Mama's voice was shaky at first but it got better as they warmed up. She still sounded tight and careful, but that was the way Mama always was in front of an audience. Iva Claire blended their tricky harmonies to her mother's melody by rote. They left the stage to scattered applause and a few catcalls.

“The house is empty,” Mama gasped, as she stood backstage catching her breath. “Where the hell's the audience?”

Iva Claire didn't even try to come up with something comforting to say. She just stared at the place on her mother's face where the sweat had streaked her rouge.

Mama gulped some air and managed a smile. “That was just the first show. The agents will come later in the day. Don't worry, Claire de Lune. They'll be here.”

There was no point in saying that she wasn't worried about anything except getting paid. They had nine more shows to go, and the collar would be back in the drawer in the little gold-painted trunk, and Pete would never know it had been gone.

We just have to last through tomorrow
, she thought, as she and Mama trudged back up to their dressing room.

Mama kept on believing until the last show on the second day. Then, as they stood in the wings waiting to go out for the last time, Iva Claire watched reality hit her. She finally understood that there weren't going to be any big agents in the audience and no one was going to book them on the Big Time or give them a spot in Ziegfeld's
Follies
.

“I'll kill Lenny,” Mama said. As she went out onstage with her mouth stretched into her big performance smile, there were tears glittering in her eyes. And something interesting happened. For that one performance, Mama started to sing the way she did in rehearsal. They had never sounded better in their lives. When they took their bows, the applause was almost enthusiastic.

After the show, they packed up in grim silence. They were headed for the assistant manager's office to pick up their pay—Lenny had made himself scarce—when the stage doorman called them over. He was holding out a slip of paper.

“Somebody sent this back,” he said.

Mama couldn't talk; she grabbed the note and started to read. For a moment Iva Claire believed in miracles. But then Mama's face went white and she looked sick, like she was going to faint.

“Mama?” Iva Claire started to her, but Mama pushed her away. She crumpled up the note and threw it against the wall. Iva Claire picked it up.

It was from a small-time agent named Teddy Fitz, and he had a job for them. He had a tour that had started a month earlier and one of the comedy teams had left it. He needed an act to fill in. The problem was, Teddy Fitz booked the South. His note mentioned Virginia, North Carolina, Tennessee, Alabama, Louisiana, and Georgia.

Iva Claire turned to her mother. “Mama, we need the money. Couldn't we? Just this once?”

“No,” Mama said. Iva Claire was pretty sure it was having to work Georgia that cinched it.

Iva Claire crumpled up the note again. It would have been nice to have a job that could carry them until the next check came, but it really didn't matter all that much. What mattered was putting Fritzie's collar back where it belonged.

“I'll go get our pay, Mama,” she said.

The next morning Mama cashed the paycheck, and they had the money. Before she went off to the pawnshop, Mama hesitated as Iva Claire had known she would and said, “If we get that collar back now, we won't have anything. Maybe we could wait until—” She looked at Iva Claire's face and didn't finish the thought.

Two hours later, Mama had locked the door to her bedroom and was lying down with a headache. Iva Claire was sitting on the sofa in their living room holding Fritzie's collar. She and Mama were broke. Eventually, Big Hannah would have to ask them to leave because even she couldn't keep two deadbeats around forever. Iva Claire didn't know where they'd go or how they'd live. But for the first time in three days she felt light and free.

She'd taken Pete's key from the rolltop desk earlier that morning while Big Hannah was out doing her daily food shopping. Now all she had to do was wait for Pete to leave his room. Every noon he went out to have lunch with a couple of song pluggers who'd retired about the same time he had. The threesome always went to a little place on Forty-eighth Street near the Friars' Club.

It only took her five minutes to put the collar back. And even though Fritzie woke up and started barking just as she was closing the trunk, she didn't panic. The little dog barked a lot and everyone in the building was used to it. No one would come upstairs to check Pete's room. Iva Claire took a quick look around to make sure everything looked the way it had when she came in. Then she left.

In the hallway she closed the door and leaned against it with her eyes closed. It was over! She'd gotten away with it! She turned around to lock the door. But as she was about to take the key out of her pocket, a sound behind her made her turn. Big Hannah was halfway up the stairs, staring at her.