Unfinished Symphony (Logan 3)

"I don't think of Billy as being crippled," I began and described my trip to New York and what Billy and I had done together in so short a time. She listened, a small smile on her face. I had the feeling she was studying me rather than paying attention to the things I said.

"It's so wonderful to be young and

impressionable," she declared with a sigh. "It's almost a shame to introduce you to the hard realities of the real world. Holly always refused to face them. But you saw how my sister lives, like some hippie, some gypsy. And she's so pretty and bright when she wants to be. I could find her an adequate husband in a heartbeat, if she would let me, but que sera, sera."

I was about to protest and explain that I thought Holly was happy as she was and lived a good life, but our salads arrived. They looked delicious. However, the portions made me smile and shake my head. A half dozen forkfuls would clean the plate. I felt guilty having her pay for it.

"It seems like a lot of money for this small amount of food, Dorothy."

"Nonsense. It's more than enough. You've got to watch your diet, especially here, my dear. Just look around at these women. Look," she ordered and I realized she really wanted me to do it now.

I looked around the restaurant as subtly as I could. There were many attractive women, all with beautiful hairdos and expensive-looking clothes. It was obviously a place for the rich and beautiful.

"Everyone watches her figure. Competition, competition, competition, my dear. Every woman is competing with every other woman here."

"For what?" I asked.

She laughed.

"For what? For the eyes of a man, what else? Many of these women want to be in pictures or with powerful men. But don't worry, I'll explain it all to you later. Just from the little you have told me about your background, I know you have so much to learn, and I do enjoy helping a young woman become . . . sophisticated," she declared. "Now don't eat too quickly. You don't want to seem like some naive young girl from the Midwest. Besides, this is the best table. We should enjoy our moment in the spotlight. See, people are wondering who we are already," she said, nodding at people at other tables. She was right-they were looking our way. Dorothy adjusted her hat and smiled at someone.

"You can be friendly," she said, still nodding and smiling at people, "but don't speak to anyone first. Let them come to you. Always wait for them, and never tell anyone too much," she warned. "The more mysterious you are, the more your stock goes up. That's the way Philip would put it." She nodded at someone to our right. "Don't worry, you'll learn. After a while," she assured me.

"I'm really not here for any of that, Dorothy," I said softly. "I'm just here to see about my mother."

"Of course, but like everyone else who comes here, you'll soon fall in love."

"Fall in love? With what, with whom?" I asked.

"Why, with yourself, dear. Who else?" she said and laughed. "I'm sure," she added when I just stared at her, "that that is exactly what happened to your mother."

After what proved to be one of the longest lunches of my life, our meal followed by cups of cappuccino and fruit tarts that cost as much as the meal itself, we finally left. Spike was right there with the limousine, waiting. He held open the doors and I did feel like someone very special because of the way pedestrians paused to look at us and the way the hostess and other staff members fawned over Dorothy. She was like a sponge, soaking up their artificial smiles and growing fatter on that than the miserly portions we had been served. I did get a glimpse of the bill and Holly wasn't far off when she had told me what it would cost. Dorothy had paid over seventy-five dollars for lunch!

We rode past other expensive-looking restaurants, up Santa Monica Boulevard to what Dorothy announced was the world famous Rodeo Drive.

"I'll take you there tomorrow, my dear, to find you something adequate to wear."

Spike made a right turn and drove us past beautiful large homes, one more elaborate than the other with their Grecian columns and tall hedges. As we drove, Dorothy rattled off the names of movie stars, singers and dancers I had seen in films. She also knew the names of film directors and producers who lived in various houses because her husband Philip had some of them for clients.

Finally, we slowed before a two-story English Tudor bigger than any house I had ever seen. It had a steeply pitched roof, side-gabled, with tall, narrow windows with multi-pane glazing. There was a massive chimney on the left crowned by three decorative chimney pots. The walls were brick contrasted with wooden claddings. It was the sort of house I had seen only on the covers of romance novels.

"Home sweet home," Dorothy declared as Spike turned into the pink tile driveway lined with Tiffany glass lamps. The lawn looked like an emerald carpet, with every blade cut perfectly. There was an enormous weeping willow on the left, its tearful branches nearly reaching the ground, and on the right was a thick oak that looked proud and majestic as it towered over the flowers, rock garden and yellow, white and pink bougainvillea that clung to the tall wooden boarder fence beneath it.

"Your house is so big!" I exclaimed. "I didn't think houses could be so big in a city. It's a mansion!"

"I suppose it is a mansion. We do have twenty rooms," she said, "if you count the help's quarters, Philip's office, Philip's gymnasium . ."

"Gymnasium. Twenty rooms!"

Dorothy laughed.

"Philip complains that it's never big enough, especially when I host my women's club meetings."

Alongside the house was a three-car garage, but because the entrance was on the side, it made the house appear even longer. I saw windows above the garage, too.

Spike parked in front of the arched doorway and quickly came around and opened Dorothy's door, As soon as she stepped out, he rushed around the limousine to open mine and reached in to take my elbow and help me out. I felt silly having someone do the simplest things for me, but I was afraid to make a social error.

"Take her bags to the pink room, please Spike," Dorothy commanded. "We have many guest rooms, but I think you'll enjoy this one the most. It suits young people," she said. Spike glanced at me with a small smile on his lips and then opened the trunk.