All the Stars in the Heavens Page 19

  “Why should that matter? Whether Beverly Hills or Dadgum Holler, marriage vows should be respected. This isn’t a matter of experience.”

  “But it is. The story of the starlet and the leading man is as old as the urns on my front porch. It’s an easy story to repeat because it’s tantalizing, mostly because it brings about the ruination of the young lady, who hasn’t the fortitude or sophistication to fight the lies and correct the facts. The leading man, on the other hand, comes off looking virile and desirable, both bankable commodities at the studio. Surely you know that a man’s sex appeal has a direct effect on his salary negotiations.”

  “I’m aware of my husband’s allure.”

  “Then let me make you aware of my daughter’s. She has to get by on talent. While your husband might benefit from an affair with a starlet, the same affair would lead to her professional demise. Do you think that my daughter, a hardworking veteran of fifty films, would squander her good name on a fling? If you do, you don’t know Loretta Young.”

  “I have a daughter too, Mrs. Belzer. And I would defend her to the death.”

  “Then you must understand how I feel when lies are spread about my daughter.”

  “I was hoping you would take control of the situation.”

  “I understand your exasperation. You and I are of the same generation. We’re also mothers. So, I’d ask you to give Loretta the benefit of the doubt. She’s intelligent.”

  “Which can also mean that she is cunning.”

  “Loretta is also a devout young woman.”

  “That hardly has anything to do with her sex drive.”

  “Oh no, it has everything to do with every drive. She considers the feelings of others. She is compassionate. She would go as far to forgive you for your rude assumptions and advise your husband to go home to discuss your concerns with you.”

  “My husband and I discuss everything.”

  “That’s why you chase down rumors in fan magazines—because you trust him. Ria, I know all about you. I know you grew up poor and hungry. I know about the three husbands before Mr. Gable, each one a little higher up the financial ladder than the last one. I know you’re a hard worker who took a position in a jewelry shop because the high-end clientele would be better catches than the men on the oil rigs. You are ambitious, and there is nothing wrong with that. But don’t accuse my daughter of the things you have been guilty of—I won’t have it.”

  “You’re out of line, Mrs. Belzer.” Ria stood. “You don’t have your facts straight.”

  “It’s not easy to track down the truth when one has had so many surnames. Mrs. Gable, let me make something very clear. No one comes between me and my daughter, or me and any of my children. We are a team. Our family has built a life with hard work, fair play, and good morals. For you to assume that my daughter is anything less than the gracious, talented, and kind-hearted young woman she is, is an insult to my entire family.”

  “I’m not wrong about Loretta Young.”

  “Then prove it. Trade in the Schiaparelli suit for a pair of dungarees and waders and hire a dogsled. Climb Mount Baker to see with your own eyes what is going on up there. Knowing my daughter, you’ll find her turning in a great performance, minus any monkey business. However, I can’t vouch for your husband.”

  Gladys waited to hear the engine turn in Ria’s car before she jumped on the phone.

  “Room fourteen, please. Alda? What the hell is going on up there?”

  “We were hit with another snowstorm. Production is delayed again. This one could take a few days to clear.”

  “I’m not interested in the weather. Is Gretchen carrying on with Mr. Gable?”

  “They’re good friends.”

  “Is it a romance?”

  “Loretta is steering clear because he’s married.”

  Gladys heaved a sigh of relief. “Why the rumors?”

  “There are only three women on this mountain—four, if you count the cook.”

  “So the gossip is just that.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Belzer.”

  “Mrs. Gable just left, and she’s hearing things. I’m not so worried about Gretchen, but Gable is another story. Don’t let my daughter out of your sight.”

  Alda wanted to share that it was not Loretta but she that had fallen in love on Mount Baker, and had a nasty breakup, and perhaps therein lay the confusion. Evidently the facts had been twisted as they snowballed down the mountain in a typical Modern Screen fashion. Alda hoped she had reassured the woman who brought her to Hollywood that her mind was solely on the business of Loretta Young.

  The cabin fever was so intense at the Mount Baker Inn that the company of The Call of the Wild would do anything to break it. Bill Wellman had called off filming exteriors when a powerful blizzard made it impossible to navigate the roads the studio had carved out in the snow. It was so cold the cameras froze.

  After the storm had passed, the mountain was theirs once more. The company huddled together and thought of new ways to entertain themselves. The crew, headed by Luca, took a day to build a fire pit in the field between the inn and the barn, with a circular bench made of packed snow and ice, igloo style, around it. Gable helped chop wood to make the outdoor fire, relieved to do something, anything physical after being cooped up.

  In the kitchen, Elvira was forced to be creative; staples were running low for the hungry company. Elvira operated the waffle iron as Alda and Loretta made a third batch of batter. Fresh, delicate, buttery waffles were stacked on trays all around them.

  “Almost ready for the snow,” Elvira said.

  “I’ll get Mr. Gable,” Loretta volunteered.

  “I need about six gallons—so tell him to fill the silver tub on the porch. I need icy snow—not top layer, but white ice below the surface.”

  “Got it.”

  Alda hadn’t spoken to Loretta about her mother’s call, but she had been diligent about being present whenever the costars were together. There seemed to be nothing between them deeper than on-set flirting. They had long conversations and took their meals together, but Alda had seen the same behavior with Loretta’s costars on other movies. But to be safe, and mind Gladys Belzer’s request, Alda asked, “Do you want me to go with you?”

  “Nope, finish the waffles.”

  Loretta pulled on her coat, hat, and gloves. The kitchen was hot, and the cold night air felt good against her face as she pushed the door open. The crew was gathered around the fire, laughing, talking, and smoking. As Loretta passed, a grip offered her a cigarette, which she happily accepted.

  “Where’s Gable?” she asked, puffing the cigarette.

  “Gathering wood,” the grip said.

  Loretta trudged to the woodpile behind the inn. She found Gable, in his full-length lynx fur coat, picking up logs to bring to the fire.

  “Need your help, Clark. Elvira’s ready to make the snow cream.”

  “Here.” Gable handed her logs, then picked up more on his own. Loretta dropped the cigarette in the snow and followed him to the pit. The crew cheered as they dumped the wood into the fire, which roared to a mighty blaze.

  “Come on, sis,” Gable said to Loretta.

  He took her arm as they hiked across the field to the barn. On the porch, he grabbed a saw from a hook, a flashlight, and the silver tub Elvira had washed and prepared for the blocks of snow.

  Gable flipped on the flashlight to guide their way. The beam danced on the snow, making the surface sparkle like diamonds in a store window at high noon.

  Loretta followed Gable over the hill to the middle of a pristine field that rolled out before them like an expanse of white velvet. The sky overhead was a clear midnight blue, speckled with tiny pink stars.

  “Heavenly,” she said, taking in the view.

  “You can think in a place like this,” Gable said as he set up the tub and saw. “Away from the world and all its problems. I’m going to have this someday, kid.”

  The laughter of the crew traveled across the snowy fields l
ike music as Gable knelt down and sawed a block of snow from the drifts. Loretta helped him lift the solid block into the tub.

  “May I try?” she asked. “Looks like fun.”

  Gable handed her the saw.

  Loretta plunged the saw into the snow. She couldn’t get the blade to budge. “What am I doing wrong?”

  Gable laughed. “Everything.” He took the saw from her and cut another block from the field.

  “You make it look easy,” she said as he sawed another square.

  “You know I haven’t tried to kiss you since your birthday.”

  “I noticed.”

  “Do you want me to?”

  “Not really.”

  “Is that a yes or a no?”

  “It’s a ‘not really.’ A soft no.”

  Gable shook his head. “I don’t know any girls like you.”

  “What a compliment.”

  “Now you know how I feel.” He lifted one handle on the tub and indicated that she should lift the other. Together they hoisted the tub, and the load was instantly easy to carry.

  “If I get a choice with a man, I would always rather be friends.”

  “Why is that?”

  “It lasts.”

  “Romance can last,” he said. “You have to give it a chance.”

  “With who?”

  “Maybe with me.”

  “Where’s the flashlight?” Loretta asked.

  “Why?”

  “Shine the light on my face.”

  Gable and Loretta placed the tub down in the field. He shone the light on her face. She rolled her eyes.

  Gable laughed. “In silent movies that was called the kiss-off.”

  “And there’s your answer.” Loretta laughed and ran ahead, leaving him to carry the tub of snow. He called after her, but she kept going, leaping through the drifts like a doe.

  Suddenly, Loretta was smothered in fur. Gripped by two giant paws, she fell into the snow. At first she was afraid; the attack had come out of nowhere. But the familiar scent of bitter orange and pine revealed that it wasn’t a brown bear or a big bad wolf, it was Gable. They began to roll in the snow.

  “You’re scaring me!” She laughed as they spun through the drift until he was on top of her.

  “So you do feel something for me.” He grinned. He rolled off her and onto his back in the snow. They lay there, laughing. The scent of the fire pit, of cedar and smoke, carried by night winds, filled the air overhead. Clark and Loretta lay in the open field and looked up at the night sky.

  “What does the sky look like to you?” she asked him.

  “Heaven.”

  “You don’t think heaven is bright, like a morning?”

  “I don’t know. I think this could be it. What do you think it looks like?”

  “When I was a girl, my cousin Carlene and I used to play dress-up in Mae Murray’s closet.”

  “No kidding.” Gable rolled over, propped himself on his elbow, and looked at her.

  “Long story. Anyhow, Mae had a closet filled with gowns and shoes, and capes made of velvet and feathers. And she had these long black satin evening gloves with tiny pink pearl buttons all the way up the back. That’s what the sky looks like to me.”

  Gable leaned toward her and kissed her on the neck.

  “Elvira needs the snow,” Loretta said.

  Gable stood up and helped her to her feet.

  “Where are they with the snow?” Elvira wanted to know.

  “On their way,” Alda said nervously. Alda watched Gable and Loretta through the window of the barn. She was now officially worried that she had misread the situation between Loretta and Gable. It looked like something was bubbling up; something deep was heading for the surface, and given enough time and the right elements, it could blow.

  Loretta was covered in snow as she entered the barn. Gable swatted the snow off her coat as she stamped her feet to remove the snow from her boots.

  “Did you fall off the mountain?” Elvira clucked.

  “I was attacked by a wild animal.”

  “Nothing you can’t handle,” Elvira said.

  Loretta and Gable looked at one another and laughed.

  “Come over here and help me make the cream. Those boys are howling for dessert out there.”

  Alda scooped four cups of white sugar into a large ceramic bowl as Loretta cracked four eggs over the sugar. Elvira whisked the mixture. Alda drizzled vanilla extract into the mixture. Slowly Loretta poured six cups of fresh cream into the sugar, followed by two cups of condensed milk, as Elvira all the while whisked.

  “That’s it,” Elvira said. “It’s ready to hit the snow.”

  Gable lifted the bowl and brought it outside, pouring it over the tub of snow.

  Elvira mixed the sweet, creamy mixture through the snow with a large spoon. “Mr. Gable, you’re such a know-it-all, take a taste.” Elvira fed Gable a taste of the snow cream.

  “It’s good, Elvira.”

  “All right! Grab the tub. Girls, fetch the waffles. Follow me to the fire pit.”

  The crew gathered around as Elvira, Alda, and Loretta formed an assembly line to make snow cream cones. Loretta and Alda took the delicate waffles and folded them into triangles as Elvira filled them with snow cream.

  Luca pulled the cork from a bottle of Fra Angelico and went around the bench of the fire pit, drizzling the liqueur on the cones.

  “Does everything around here have to have booze in it?” Elvira complained.

  “Yes, Miss Elvira. And when they figure out how to make soap out of it, we’ll bathe in it too,” Gable said.

  The company cheered.

  Loretta handed a cone to Luca. Alda looked away. Loretta looked up at Gable, who caught the exchange.

  Gable sat next to Luca on the ice bench.

  “You’re still in the doghouse?”

  “Yep,” Luca admitted.

  “Did you write her a letter?”

  “Yep. She hasn’t budged. Assuming she even read it. I bet it went straight into the fireplace. All that’s left of my heart’s desire are little black feathers in a big black flume.”

  “You have to be persistent.”

  “She hasn’t given me any hope at all.”

  “She’s hurt.”

  “I know that. And it pains me.” Luca watched Alda as she walked back to the barn with Elvira. Loretta sat down next to Gable and Luca.

  “Mr. Gable, you know how to find good snow,” Loretta said before taking a bite of the snow cream cone.

  “Thank you, Miss Young.”

  “Luca, what’s the status?”

  “Not great,” Gable answered for him.

  “You have to keep trying,” Loretta advised Luca.

  “That’s what he says.” Luca pointed to Clark. “I tried all his methods. Letters. Calls. I hang around to talk to her. She walks by me as though I’m not there. She’s a real ice princess, that one.”

  “But she isn’t,” Loretta assured him. “She’s heartbroken.”

  “You’re making the mug feel worse,” Gable said.

  Loretta handed Gable her ice cream cone to finish. “How long did it take you to realize that you hurt her?”

  “I knew the minute the words were out of my mouth.”

  “You should tell her that you were impulsive, and realized that you hurt her immediately—that you don’t really believe the things you said to her.”

  “She’s not buying it.”

  “Maybe Mr. Gable has some advice for you. He’s been married eleven, twelve times or so. Clark, impart some wisdom here.”

  “I ought to smash this cone in your face,” Gable said sweetly.

  “I blew it. It’s over,” Luca said.

  Loretta patted Luca’s knee. “Well, you still have a shot at Elvira.”

  “You’re not helping.” Gable nudged her.

  Loretta turned to Luca. “Alda was almost a nun—she spent most of her youth in the convent. There’s still a lot of that in her. She likes order a
nd rules. Give her some. Lay down the rules of your relationship and make her understand how things will be going forward.”

  “Starting with keeping your trap shut,” Gable added.

  “It’s going to take her some time to help Elvira straighten up the kitchen. I bet for the rest of that bottle of Fra Angelico you could bribe Elvira to go home early—and you and Alda will have time together.”

  Luca took in Loretta’s advice. He looked toward the barn, where the kitchen lights blazed in beams out onto the snow. “Okay. I’ll try.”

  Gable held out his cone. “One more hit before you go.”

  Luca doused the cone with booze. He placed the stopper back in the bottle and trudged across the field to the barn.

  The crew had mostly gone back inside the inn for their late-night card games. Loretta scooted close to Gable by the fire pit.

  “That was pretty good, Gretch,” he said, putting his arm around her.

  “I’m always better with other people’s problems.” Loretta always felt warm and safe when Gable had his arms around her.

  “You have problems?” Gable teased her.

  “None at the moment.”

  “That’s good to know. I wouldn’t want be a problem to you.”

  “You’re only a problem when you wrestle me to the ground in that coat.”

  “You like this coat? Flier Furs. Olympic Boulevard. Los Angeles U.S.A. Made to order.”

  “Did your wife buy it for you?”

  Gable looked around, pulled Loretta close, and squeezed her tight. “Why do you bring her up every chance you get?”

  “I’m a smart aleck.”

  “I’ll say. You got crust.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “You mean it?”

  “From the bottom of my black heart.”

  “If you weren’t so cute, I’d wring your neck. Tell me something. Why’d you take this movie?”

  “The script, of course.”

  “Just the script?”

  “I didn’t take it because of you. I didn’t know you.”

  “How am I doing?”

  “All right. When it comes to the movies, I try to choose a mystery, a weepie, a family comedy, and one classic every year. Sometimes I hit it, sometimes I don’t.”