Government bonds.
A Cadillac.
A private suite in Frances Rich’s home, decorated to Bardy’s tastes.
A suite? he says, when Babe informs him of this latest development.
– It’s by way of being a marriage proposal.
– And how did Bardy respond?
– Bardy said yes.
– Well, you would.
– Would you, really?
– No, I wouldn’t, but Bardy would.
Bardy appears enthused by the prospect of matrimony. Babe does not mention to Bardy that, at sixty-two, Frances Rich is only a decade younger than Miss Emmie, and apparently of a similarly single-minded disposition. Bardy is as good as marrying his own mother.
He doesn’t attend the wedding – given the current state of his relationship with Lois, he might put a curse on the nuptials – but he sends a gift.
Babe arrives late at the studio the day after the wedding. Before anyone can even exchange greetings with him, Babe calls a meeting of like minds in his dressing room, and opens a bottle. Glasses are filled, chairs are occupied, breaths are bated.
Gentlemen, Babe says, I have a tale to tell.
It seems that the ceremony goes off swimmingly. Following a pleasant wedding breakfast, the bride and groom are escorted to their accommodations in the bride’s home, whereupon Babe and his family, including Miss Emmie, repair to Babe’s house to rest.
Three hours later, there comes a knock on Babe’s front door.
It is Bardy.
Bardy is distraught.
Bardy is so upset that Bardy has come out without a necktie.
– I must speak with Mama. It is a matter of the utmost urgency.
Babe cannot think what this matter might be, and Babe is not entirely sure that any clarification will be welcome, since Babe suspects Bardy has not been in the vicinity of an unclothed woman since the moment of Bardy’s own birth. But curiosity overcomes all, and Babe follows Bardy to their mother’s room.
Mama, says Bardy, do you know what Frances did?
Miss Emmie, naturally, has no idea what Frances did, and says as much.
Babe brings Bardy a glass of water. Bardy looks at it in a manner that suggests something stronger may be required.
Babe pours Bardy something stronger.
Well, says Bardy, with glass in hand, I was in my suite, resting, and – Bardy takes a mouthful for the revelatory strength required to continue.
– Frances came and –
Bardy closes his eyes, shudders, and unburdens himself at last of his wife’s transgression.
– she knocked on my door.
In Babe’s dressing room, there is a pause while his listeners absorb the facts of the case.
She knocked on his door? says Jimmy Finlayson.
She knocked, Babe confirms slowly, on his door.
– What was Bardy doing in there when she knocked on his door?
– I do not know, and I did not care to ask.
– So what happened then?
A private consultation with our mother ensued, says Babe, after which Bardy returned to the scene of the crime, removed his possessions from the suite, handed back the government bonds, the keys to the Cadillac, and any unsmoked cigars, and announced his intention to seek an immediate annulment of the marriage. By sundown, my brother was once again a single man.
– Where is Bardy now?
– Bardy is packing for Georgia. Bardy is of the opinion that the habits of Californian women are troubling to his disposition, and consequently intends to seek an arrangement with a lady from the Peachtree State whose sensibilities are more compatible with his own.
They finish their drinks. They depart Babe’s dressing room.
That boy’s family, Jimmy Finlayson whispers as they leave, are all crazy.
This is not quite the end of the story. Shortly after Bardy’s brief marriage, Babe goes to visit Miss Emmie at her apartment only to find that she has vanished, along with all of her belongings. Babe is informed that Miss Emmie climbed in the back of her car first thing that morning, and ordered the chauffeur to drive her home.
To Georgia.
Miss Emmie never returns. The chauffeur eventually does.
I told you, says Jimmy Finlayson. All crazy.
105
He decides to travel to England. It has been five years since his last visit. He wishes to see A.J., and he wishes to see home. He will make the voyage alone. He gives Lois the option of coming with him or remaining in Los Angeles, and Lois chooses to stay.
Why would you even want me to go? Lois asks. It’ll be easier for you if I’m out of your sight, and you’ll save the price of a ticket.
He does not bother to argue.
If you’re sure, he says.
– And while you’re away, I’m going to talk to a lawyer.
He is not surprised. He has already consulted Ben Shipman. The papers are ready, waiting for Lois to concede that their marriage is concluded. He will let Ben Shipman know that the process is about to begin.
I’m sorry, he says.
– Are you?
– Of course.
– Then tell me.
– What do you want me to tell you?
– The name of the woman you’ve been seeing. Or is it more than one?
– Don’t.
– I hear stories. They can’t all be untrue. What did I do to make you treat me this way?
– Nothing. You did nothing.
Lois folds her hands across her chest, but it is not a gesture of defiance. If he cannot embrace and console her, then Lois will console and embrace herself. She is crying now; not sobbing, for her face is motionless, and her breathing regular, but her cheeks are wet. He is not even sure if she notices her own tears. Behind her, the bed is unmade. He looks around the room and does not recognize it. It resembles an imperfect facsimile of a place he once knew.
Would it have been different, Lois asks, if our child had lived? Would you at least have stayed with me?
– I don’t know.
He has no other answer.
It is in the nature of all proceedings involving him that what is simple should inevitably become complicated. He, like Babe, feels that he has become infected by the role he plays. If Lois will not accompany him to England – and she and their daughter are already on their way to her mother in Santa Cruz – then some explanation for her absence must be provided for the press. He will not use the death of his child as an excuse, even if the studio publicity department offers to do so, discreetly, on his behalf. Instead it is left to Myrtle to communicate the official position to the newspapermen.
Lois doesn’t like crowds or long journeys, Myrtle informs them, and she is not overly strong, so preferred not to make the trip.
All of which is true, and also, under the circumstances, a lie.
Babe is planning to visit Canada with Myrtle. Babe also needs a vacation, but is worried about leaving Myrtle unchaperoned in Los Angeles, even if to do so would allow him to spend some time with Viola Morse. Babe and Viola Morse could go to Agua Caliente together, and pass their days at the racetrack and their evenings at the casinos. Instead, Babe frets about Myrtle.