“No mama-papa-baby-nuclear-family bullshit,” the actress said. “It’s beautiful.”
Charlotte concentrated on the details of the financing, the part to be played by the Canadians, the controls exerted by the Crédit Suisse.
“I know why you’re crying,” the actress said after a while.
Morocco would lend its army. Spain would not. Two-eight above the line.
“And I’m sorry, but that’s exactly the kind of personal crap I never saw in Hanoi.”
The flash bulb blazed.
Charlotte smiled.
The flash bulb dropped on the table.
“Did you know I spent a night once with Pete Wright,” Charlotte said to Leonard as he led her from the table. “Did you know I did that and forgot it.”
“You didn’t forget it at all, Leonard said. “You told me the first night I met you.”
“I am so tired. I am so tired of remembering things. Leonard. Tell me it’s because I’m pregnant.”
“I wish I could,” Leonard said.
Leonard took Charlotte back to the Beverly Wilshire but she continued crying so Leonard, because he was due in Miami the next day to assist in the sale of four French Mirages from one Caribbean independency to another, called the record executive and borrowed a company Lear to fly Charlotte home. $216,000 was raised that night to benefit some one of Leonard’s clients, Charlotte was unsure which until she saw the pictures in Vogue. She left the dress made entirely of colored ribbons on the floor of the suite at the Beverly Wilshire. I look at those pictures now and I see only Charlotte’s smile.
18
“IT’S CHARLOTTE,” SHE SAID TO HER BROTHER’S WIFE from a pay phone on the highway outside Hollister. “I wondered if you and Dickie were going to be home.”
“Richard and I play tennis every Saturday.” There was a pause. “You want to use the pool, come on by, of course the heater’s off.”
“I thought I might see the children.”
“They’re at the gym.”
There was a silence.
“Why exactly would I drive to Hollister to use your pool, Linda? I mean I get off a plane from Los Angeles and I sit in the airport all night and I rent a car and I’m out here on the highway and it’s raining?”
Linda said nothing.
“Listen,” Charlotte said finally. “Linda. Please ask me to dinner.”
Before and during dinner Charlotte’s brother drank steadily and did not mention Marin or Leonard or Warren. Linda sat at the table but refused to eat. She said that she had eaten macaroni and cheese with the children, who seemed to have come home from and returned to the gym before Charlotte’s arrival.
“They’re just wonderful normal kids,” Linda said after dinner. “Aren’t they, Richard. No matter what Warren says.”
“What’s Warren got to do with it,” Charlotte said.
“How would I know whether they’re wonderful normal kids.” Dickie opened another bottle of bourbon. “Maybe Warren’s right, maybe they’re boring, how would I know. They’re always at the goddamn gym.”
“Most people would consider that a definite plus. I believe your sister needs an ashtray.”
“What’s Warren got to do with it,” Charlotte repeated.
“Or eating goddamn Kraft Dinners with you at four o’clock.”
“Richard and I don’t smoke,” Linda said.
“We don’t fuck either,” Dickie said.
Charlotte put out her cigarette in an empty nut dish.
“Warren paid us a little visit,” Linda said. “Lasting eleven hours and a quart and a half of gin.”
“Charlotte’s not interested in that, Linda.”
“Tanqueray gin.”
“Linda. We enjoyed seeing him, Char.”
“He had this very interesting friend with him. He’d just run into this friend, they hadn’t seen each other since the Roosevelt Hotel in New Orleans. Where—”
“I’m warning you, Linda.”
“Where this friend of Warren’s tended bar. Which is what this friend still does, except at the Pacific Union Club.”
“I warned you, Linda. If Charlotte’s husband wants to bring a Negro to this house, this house is open. With bells on. All systems go.”
“Charlotte’s not married to Warren any more, Richard, you don’t have to pretend you like him.”
“Goddamnit Linda, he’s better than the Jew, isn’t he?”
Linda began plumping pillows.
Dickie avoided Charlotte’s eyes.
“Actually Leonard’s not a Jew,” Charlotte said. “Actually it just amuses Warren to say that Leonard’s a Jew. A private joke. If you follow.”
“Warren’s sense of humor is just a little bit twisted,” Linda said. “If you ask me.”
“I didn’t mean that about Leonard, Char. Hey. Char. I think Leonard is—”
“Not that anybody ever does ask me,” Linda said.
“—A very fine lawyer,” Dickie said.
“Listen,” Charlotte said finally. Linda was still plumping pillows with pointed energy. “Dickie. I’ve been remembering some things since Marin left.”
“That’s no good for you, Char, remembering. Remembering is shit. Forget her.”
“I’m not talking about Marin, I’m talking about—”
“Forget goddamn Marin. Forget goddamn Warren. You did your best. Forget the other one too.”
“He doesn’t want to talk about Marin, Charlotte.” Linda turned off a lamp. “He wants to believe your life is just pluperfect.”
“You turn off another plu-fucking-perfect light, Linda, I’m walking out of here with Charlotte and don’t wait up.”
“Lucky Charlotte.”
“I’m not talking about Marin,” Charlotte said. “I’m talking about when we lived on the ranch.”
“Don’t sell the ranch, Char.”
“I’m not. I’m talking about — do you remember how Nana would always burn the biscuits?”
“The ranch is the only home you’ve got, Char.”
“Oh fine,” Linda said. “Back to Tara. The Havemeyers are off to the races now. If you’re looking for your car keys they’re on the coffee table. Next to the ring from Massa Richard’s glass.”
“Remember the biscuits, Dickie? Halfway through dinner we’d smell them burning?”
“The only thing I remember your famous grandmother burning is every bed jacket I ever took her in the nursing home.” Linda handed Charlotte her car keys. “Smoking in bed. Little holes in every one.”
“You can’t have forgotten the biscuits, Dickie.”
“No good remembering, Char.”
“Of course your sister wasn’t here during that ordeal.”
“Dickie,” Charlotte said. “We used to laugh about it.”
“You and me, Char.” Dickie touched Charlotte’s hair uncertainly and turned away. “Forget goddamn Marin. I say give her a Kraft Dinner and I say the hell with her.”
Charlotte stayed that night in a motel off 101.
She tried to think about the biscuits but they kept fading out. She tried to think about the gold pin with the broken clasp but she kept seeing it on the bomb.
Her grandmother was dead and Marin was gone.
She had never gone shopping with her mother, she had never seen her father on Demerol, the ranch had eight telephones on three lines and Marin was gone.
It was Pete Wright who had told her that her father needed Demerol before he died.
The night she got drunk at the Palm.
She tried to think about Pete Wright in her bed that night but could not. She tried to think about Leonard in the bed of the house on California Street but she could see that bed only as it had been the day she picked up the scissors against Warren. She could see Warren sitting on that bed and she could also see Warren standing in front of her bed in New York the Easter morning after she got drunk at the Palm.