A LADY NAMED ROSE
Chapter Sixty-Nine
December, 1920
Angelica sorted through the stack
of mail in the boarding house's sitting room, setting aside anything addressed to
Rose, who was engrossed in practicing her lines for that evening's performance.
"You get so many more Christmas cards than me," she pouted. "Why
is that?"
"Maybe because I send
more."
Angelica paused at one oversized
envelope and, with no concern for privacy, tore it open with one catlike
fingernail. Over Rose's objections, she began to read. "It's from Vera.
Her fiancé won that stupid election and they're looking at homes in Washington,
DC."
"He won?" In her
astonishment, Rose's irritation at Angelica faded. "That's so
exciting!"
Vera's lawyer friend—soon to be
her husband—had decided to throw his
hat in the ring for Congressman after another candidate withdrew from the race.
It had been close, but there was no match for Vera's ambition and it was due in
part to her relentless campaigning on his behalf that got her man into the
House of Representatives. In between all the door-to-door flyer distribution,
potluck fundraisers, and deal brokering with Chicago's most powerful and
corrupt, Vera had taken time to write both Rose and Angelica frequently to
remind them to register to vote. Rose had proudly gone to the polls for the
first time; Angelica decided that choosing a President was just not as vital as
her bimonthly hair appointment.
"My wedding date's been
pushed forward to February so I can join him in Washington as soon as possible,"
Angelica read aloud, mimicking Vera's voice. She tossed the card on the drawing
table and continued to sift through the remaining mail. "A wedding in
February in Chicago? My goodness, all the bridesmaids will freeze to death.
That is, if they even make it to the altar. Any man who marries her has got to
have the patience of—"
She stopped mid-diatribe, the
final card in the stack in her hands.
"Well, don't keep me in
suspense," Rose said. "Who's that one from?"
Angelica handed it to her. It was
from Mr. and Mrs. Terrence Masterson.
"Open it, open it,"
Angelica urged. Rose did so, slowly, and withdrew another envelope with gold
engraving. "You are cordially invited to attend..." she read, and
opened the flap.
The invitation was for a black
tie New Year's Eve gala at Laurel Manor, the Mastersons' Hollywood Hills
estate. Angelica gasped and clapped her hands like a small child. "A party
at Terrence Masterson's house! You lucky bitch!"
Rose, in a daze, didn't hear her.
She wasn't aware the Mastersons knew where she lived. She'd avoided them since
the dinner at Lizzy's, had even stopped going to the pier. According to
Anderson, Terry hadn't been at a health spa all those months. He had endured a
stay at a new sort of clinic for treating people with certain...bad habits, as
Anderson put it. Terry's drinking problem had begun a couple of years earlier
and had developed to the point where his wife and the studio would no longer
tolerate it. Rose didn't tell Anderson the clinic had failed.
She also neglected to tell him
that she was afraid Terry would try to seduce her, and that she wouldn't resist
him if he did.
Anderson was preoccupied with
other matters. The meeting at MGM didn't go as planned. The bigwigs liked his
script...but reminded him he was under contract to direct four projects they
selected for him. After he fulfilled this obligation, well, he was welcome to
bring his own idea back to the table. Anderson swallowed his pride and went
right to work on the first of the four projects.
Lizzy opted to spend her first
holiday season as a widow in Cedar Rapids. She closed up her house just before
Thanksgiving and boarded a train, advising her children not to expect her back
until sometime in January. Rose had no idea what Helene and Terry would be
doing for the holidays, only that she wouldn't have to see them, or so she
thought.
"You know what this means?
You're on the inside!" Angelica swung Rose around in a little arc.
"What'll you wear? I think you and I should plan a shopping trip
immediately. Nothing in your closet will do for an affair like this. Ooh, Rose,
remember when we all swooned at Terrence in that cowboy picture?"
She did. It was one of his first
films, when they were still at Vassar. Angelica was aware that Helene Masterson
was Anderson's sister, but thought the only way Rose knew Terrence was through
his movies, and Rose had intended to keep it that way. She never mentioned
meeting Terry at all, not wanting her impression of him to break Angelica's
illusion.
"Do you think they'll let me
come?" Angelica was wondering.
"Let you come where?"
Her father, dressed in a checkered robe and slippers, shuffled into the room,
wheezing even as he puffed on a cigar. "I see you've been reading ze mail.
How many times I hav to tell you, is rude." He stooped to pick up the
envelopes she'd casually let spill to the carpet, and doubled over with a
coughing fit. Rose and Angelica helped ease him onto the divan, and Rose ran to
fetch him a glass of water.
Angelica removed the cigar and
snuffed it in an ashtray. "They're no good for you, Papa, with your
health."
"Look who's talking. I'll
make a deal with you, Angel. You stop smoking, and I stop, eh? Now, Rose,
become ze ghost."
Their Christmas show this year
included an ambitious comedic version of the Dickens classic A Christmas
Carol. The world in which this parody took place was modern-day Hollywood,
with Fritz, in a rare performance, portraying Ebenezer Scrooge as a
penny-pinching studio mogul. Rose was the Ghost of Christmas Past, and the
mother of Tiny Tim, who was actually a midget Fritz had hired just for that
show. He'd expanded the cast a bit in hopes that the additional players would
draw a larger audience in the form of their families and friends. For a short
time ticket sales spiked, but as Christmas drew nearer they slumped once again.
The theater would close out the year in the red.
However, Christmas in the Geisel
household had always been festive, and this year would be no different. The
troupe would have dinner with all the trimmings. Rose accompanied Anna,
Angelica, and Li’l Max on a shopping spree for gifts and food, during which
Angelica and her mother talked Rose into purchasing a royal blue organza
cocktail gown with a matching wrap. Anderson wanted to attend the party at his
sister's, and he persuaded Rose to RSVP in the affirmative as well.
"We won't stay long,"
he promised. "But I have to put in an appearance."
"Well, when the princess
sends her summons—"
"She's my sister, Rose. I
haven't seen her in months. We lost our father; she needs someone stable in her
life."
"I know. I'm sorry. I'm
just...nervous. About the party. There'll be other stars there, too, I
assume?"
"Sure. What are you nervous about?
They're not goblins, Rose." She pictured Helene as a shriveled green
monster and laughed. Anderson grinned and draped an arm around her. "I
think you'll be fine."
*****
Most of Hollywood took a break
the last week of the year, but the Revue put on one final performance the day
after Christmas to try to recover some of their losses. It worked as well as
any of Fritz's other schemes to raise money, which was not at all. Rose peeked
around the curtain during the opening act, an abysmal comedian, and saw nothing
but rows of empty seats. Well, not so empty. Angelica was there, as was a hobo
who'd snuck in seeking temporary shelter and had fallen asleep. His snores
filled the yawning silences between the comedian's jokes.
Hans Geisel came to look over
Rose's shoulder and grimaced. "Maybe we should put him on stage."
They were professionals, and as
such they gave it their all, but something wasn't quite right. Fritz missed
nearly every cue, and at the end, when he was supposed to recite the line
"God bless us, every one," his face took on a vacant
expression.
"Papa?" Hans leaned
toward his father. "God bless us—"
"Yes, God bless us, each and
every one of us." Fritz slowly made his way to center stage. "I vant
to tank you all for coming and supporting our little teater."
"Who's he talking to?"
Catherine, in a Santa Claus costume as the Ghost of Christmas Present,
whispered to Rose. By this time there was no audience but Angelica. "I
hope he hurries it up. The beard itches like crazy."
"My family came here from Germany
when my Angel vas just a wee little baby. Ve had no money, nobody here to help
us, nothing but our dreams. And you velcomed us."
Rose looked at Anna, who was
watching from the wings; she exchanged a worried glance with her son. In the
third row, Angelica stood.
Fritz turned to his cast,
spreading his arms wide. "Tank you, all of you. You are my pride and joy.
I love you all."
He collapsed and lay still.