Unfinished Symphony (Logan 3)

"She's very lucky. I'm sure she doesn't deserve you."

Dorothy followed me out and down the stairs. At the doorway we hugged again. Philip was nowhere in sight. He wasn't the sort who cared to say good-bye anyway, I thought. Tomorrow, he would forget my face.

I hurried out and to the car, turning once to wave. Dorothy lifted her hand and held it for a moment before she closed the door softly. Loneliness, I thought, had nothing to do with money or wealth; loneliness had to do with the heart. If it beat only for one, it was only half used.

"What did you get, a good-bye present?" Richard asked, eyeing the box when I got into the car.

"Mrs. Livingston was very generous. She bo

ught me some clothes."

He glanced at the box and saw the name inscribed on the cover.

"That's a pretty expensive boutique in Beverly Hills," he said as he started the engine. "What is it?"

"A black evening dress."

"Oh yeah? Well, what do you need with something that expensive now?"

"She wanted me to have it," I said dryly.

He backed out of the driveway and looked at me. "I got an acquaintance who can turn a new dress like that into hard cash, which we could use. Especially since you ain't worn it yet and I bet it still has the tags on it, right?"

"Yes."

"Good."

"I don't want to sell this," I said. "It was a present. It meant a lot to her to give it to me."

"Is that so? What are you, a millionaire? You going to pay the first six months rent for us? You going to buy tomorrow's groceries, pay the electric and gas bills? Pay for my car insurance? I gotta cart you girls around town to the auditions, to the jobs. That takes gas money, upkeep. There's expenses here," he whined. "If you want to be part of this, you gotta put in your share. How much money did the old lady back in Provincetown give you for traveling?" he demanded. "Huh?"

"She bought my tickets and gave me . . . five hundred dollars," I said. She had given me two thousand, but I knew where Richard's questions were heading.

"Well, where's the money?"

"I spent nearly all of it coming out here," I said.

"What's left?"

"A hundred dollars."

"That's all? All right. Give me seventy-five and keep twenty-five for pocket money so I don't have to give you any for a while. Go on, give it to me," he said. "I'll need to have some seed money to find you a job now, too."

I opened my purse and counted out the seventyfive without his seeing how much was really there. When I handed it to him he shoved it into his pocket without another word.

"Good. That makes sense. I'll find you work," he promised.

I curled up in the corner of the seat and gazed out the window as Beverly Hills fell behind us.

"There's my house," Richard claimed, nodding at a large home with Grecian columns in the front. "It's only a matter of time," he said with a confident laugh.

Matter of time? Matter of centuries, I thought, but kept it to myself. My eyes filled with tears of determination. Somehow, somehow soon, I had to get Mommy away from him and away from all this.

As soon as we returned to the apartment, Richard told Mommy about my evening dress, but when Mommy saw it and then tried it on, she moaned and pleaded for him to let us keep it. She did look absolutely beautiful in it.

"I'll get a job where I'll need to wear something nice like this, Richard. Won't I?" she asked, spinning in front of the mirror. "And then, instead of having to rent something, I'll have it. And how about the wonderful, important parties you told me we would be attending soon? I'll need to look good for you, won't I? Oh please, let us keep it."

"People will be impressed Mammy has something so expensive," I added, "and clothing is important to people in the business, isn't it?" I offered to support her.