They all looked as though her words meant something to them too. Mary wondered what they needed freedom from. She knew they weren’t passing, otherwise Lillian wouldn’t be calling herself Emma.
“Where are you all from?” Mary was careful to hide her Southern accent. It didn’t occur to her until that moment, but Lillian had never had one, despite her growing up in North Carolina, because of her mother’s perfect use of the King’s English.
“Philadelphia.” Meredith gestured between herself and Daphne.
“Here,” Judy answered proudly. “My father is a retired film director.”
“I bet you’re happy to be reunited with your sister,” Daphne said.
It was a question Mary could answer truthfully. “Yes. I missed her.”
Lillian laid her head on Mary’s shoulder. “I missed you too.” She sounded genuine, like the person Mary knew, but sitting with her and the strangers at the table, Mary questioned whether she had ever really known Lillian at all. She wasn’t angry—Mary had her own secrets—but she wished she’d known about this particular circumstance before they arrived. Lillian would probably argue that passing wasn’t dangerous in Los Angeles. But in Mary’s mind, no one liked to be made a fool of, especially White folks. The precariousness of the present moment now entitled Mary, she felt, to answers about a whole lot of things.
“Emma hated leaving you to care for your aunt,” Judy said. “All that responsibility on your shoulders.”
“Emma” scolded Judy for mentioning it. “This is supposed to be a celebration!”
Judy perked up. “Sam told me he loved me last night. It won’t be long before he proposes.”
“Who is Sam?” Mary asked.
“My boyfriend, the head of production.” It took Judy twenty minutes to relay the details of her date—daisies; a dinner of champagne, oysters, and crab; and kisses on her porch.
“So romantic,” Meredith gushed. “Imagine when he proposes.”
Mary thought of her own proposal again.
“It’s only been a few months. Don’t get your hopes up, Judy,” Emma said. The twins gave her a look, but she defended herself. “I’m just trying to protect her.”
As the night progressed, Mary noticed that “Emma” nitpicked a lot: the cake had too much icing, Daphne’s lipstick wasn’t her “best look,” and Judy talked too loudly. On first introduction, Mary wasn’t sure she liked Emma as much as she remembered liking Lillian.
She cut herself another slice of cake. Eating was a good excuse to stay quiet. When she went for thirds, Lillian moved her plate and slid her third drink to her instead.
“I’m starving,” Mary said, reaching for the cake back.
“Nothing like a weight problem to complicate your life,” Lillian snapped.
Judy leaned over Lillian to explain. “The studio has us on weigh-ins. To make it fair for the actresses.”
“How often?”
“Monthly.”
“Really?”
“Yes, this is the movie business,” Daphne said. “We’re selling fantasy.”
Seconds later, a gold cigarette case cascaded across the table and hit Mary’s fingernails. Mary curled her fingers, embarrassed by how nubby hers looked compared to everyone’s long, painted ones.
“Settle in,” Daphne said. “We’ll eat soon.”
Lakes cigarettes weren’t just a muddied yellow anymore, Mary saw. They were white with green stripes, brown with red dots, all red, and all white. The product line had expanded years ago to appeal to women and college-aged city dwellers.
Daphne favored the white ones. Mary took an original and leaned into the flame Lillian sparked. She had never smoked a Lakes cigarette before, fearful of the inevitable jokes or questions that might ensue. She wondered what Lillian and her friends would say if they knew who she really was. She felt superior having this secret. Her confidence swelled with every inhalation; combined with a few sips of Lillian’s drink, it soon served to dissipate her discomfort.
“Do you all work at Telescope?” she asked.
“Phone operators,” Judy said. Mary understood now that there were no Negro phone operators.
“Do you like it?”
The table threw her varying looks of displeasure.
“Nonetheless, we’re like a little family,” Judy said.
“And it’s a good place to meet men,” Lillian said.
“How, if you’re answering phones all day?”
“Proximity is half the battle.”
“It’s how my parents met,” Judy said. “My mother was working as an assistant and met my father in the cafeteria. I met Sam walking to my car.”
“One of the casting agents sent me flowers,” Meredith said.
“I’ve been seeing a producer—met him in the lobby. He brought me roses last week,” Daphne said. “Red ones.”
Mary wondered why that mattered more than any other color.
“Red screams passion,” Lillian said.
“Are you seeing anyone, Emma?” Mary pressed.
Judy answered for her. “She has a crush on Nathan Tate, the soon to be president of Telescope.”
Nathan’s father, Abner Tate, was retiring after forty years and turning operations over to his only heir. The real reason, the women whispered—which had remained a secret from the public—was that Abner had Alzheimer’s disease.
“He’s really good-looking,” Meredith said.
“But inexperienced,” Judy chimed in.
“You’re just repeating what Sam says,” Lillian accused. “How much experience does he need to keep things going?” She seemed tired of this conversation.
The early succession, originally planned for ten or fifteen years down the road, made Telescope executives and creatives nervous, Mary was informed. On one hand, the studio needed a new voice and direction. Respected as a smaller competitor to the Big Three studios, Telescope had lost its edge, and everyone’s opinion on the solution differed. On the other hand, everyone agreed about Nathan’s limited experience and worried that his need to prove his genius in the shadow of his brilliant father could be more devastating to business than Abner’s illness.
“We’re going to see.” Judy looked at Kitty. “Have you ever had a boyfriend, Kitty?”
“I’m engaged.” Realizing the truth had slipped out, Mary covered. “Well, was engaged.”
“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.” Judy reached for her hand, giving Lillian a scolding look. “We had no idea.”
Lillian had an explanation. “They’ve known each other since grade school. His father owns pharmacies in Boston, so he never planned to move.”
Daphne looked at Kitty. “Did you try to convince him?” Her eyes said she knew what it was like to leave someone behind.
Mary regretted saying anything. She was grateful when Lillian spoke for her again.
“No. He wouldn’t be happy here. It would be too hard for him to make his own way.” Lillian’s ability to improvise was impressive, but hearing how close her words veered to the truth, Mary wondered if Lillian knew more about her life than she acknowledged. Underneath the excuse of having to, Richard’s reasons to take over his father’s business were exactly what Lillian said. He feared his ability to compete not because of a lack of intelligence and skill, but because these qualities were just two more things that could get him killed. His two years at the White high school had taught him that the road to being a doctor could lead him off a cliff.
Judy leaned across Lillian. “Well, you’ll have no trouble meeting someone here.”
“True. You’re gorgeous,” Meredith said. “And so tiny! My God—your waist.”
Mary blushed, unaccustomed to compliments. “Thank you.”
“Let’s see if she can keep it with that appetite,” Lillian said. Evidently, the women didn’t believe in eating at all. Dinner had still not been served.
“You were a little girl in all the pictures we’ve seen,” Daphne said.