in the meantime, it couldn’t hurt to be prepared. We will get you those lessons. So tell me, how did Charles take the news?”
Harlean grimaced. “Now, Mommie, you know perfectly well Chuck hates to be called Charles since that was his father’s name and it reminds him of his parents’ loss.”
“But Chuck just sounds so...pedestrian.”
“Well, I’m ordinary, too, you know.”
“There is nothing ordinary about you, Harlean Carpenter.”
Harlean sighed. “It’s McGrew now.”
Then it was Jean’s turn to roll her eyes. “Fine. What did your Chuck McGrew say about you going to Fox, then signing with Central Casting?”
“He doesn’t know, and he’s not going to right now, either, until I decide for myself what I think about it all. If he ever has to be told, I’ll be the one to do it. Can we talk about something more pleasant, like finding you and Marino a house to rent?”
Jean lifted a shapely blond eyebrow. “Baby, what in heaven’s name has gotten into you? This sort of contrary tone with me isn’t at all like you. On top of that we’ve only just arrived, and you’re putting us out?”
“I just thought you and Marino would want more privacy.”
“And you and Chuck?”
Harlean was eager to change the subject. “Well, I certainly am glad you warned me about sex, I’ll say that,” she said with girlish delight and, by it, sounding more like the teenager she was than a married woman. “I mean, you really kept nothing back when you explained.”
Jean put an arm around her daughter’s shoulder and drew her closer. “What would’ve been the point of anything else, hmm? I always told you, your body is nothing to be ashamed of, nor is sex. It’s actually quite splendid. Although I admit factoring you with Charles into that sentiment has somewhat dampened my zeal for it. And while we are on the subject of your husband, does he often go off like that so suddenly and just leave you alone?”
“He doesn’t leave me, Mommie. He’s making friends. It’s good for him.”
“Never entirely good to leave a beautiful young wife to her own devices.”
“I trust my husband and he trusts me.” She could hear a note of self-defense creeping into her own voice so she forced up a smile to mask it. But her heart was sinking further by the moment. It was certainly not how she had hoped this would go.
“Maybe he wouldn’t be so confident if he knew about the casting office.”
“I know you don’t like Chuck, but I love him, and if there is ever a reason to tell him I’ll do it in my own time and in my own way. You wouldn’t dare tell him about that!”
“Baby, it has nothing to do with liking him or not. You were too young and too impulsive when you married, and you have your whole life ahead of you.”
Harlean had longed for this reunion with her mother. For days she had excitedly imagined these first tender moments back together, where she would have a chance to share all that had been happening in her life more easily than on long-distance telephone calls. But this was not at all the encounter she had hoped for. It felt like her mother was attacking Chuck—and therefore attacking her, in that artfully passive way she had mastered—and Harlean could feel her defenses flare.
She was certainly hurt by it, even if she wasn’t ready to admit it to her mother. So far in her life, it had never been worth the price of Jean’s days-long, stormy tirades if she felt even the least bit confronted or questioned.
“You were young when you married my daddy.”
“And you see how that ended up.”
“Well, that won’t happen to us because we married for the right reasons.”
“Time will tell, I suppose.”
Anxious for a distraction, Harlean glanced down at her mother’s lovely silk-faille-covered shoes, ornamented with large square, silver buckles.
“Gee, those are awfully keen.”
She knew her mother well enough—better really than anyone else did—to know that this was the best way to divert a scene or end a problem. It was also far more clever than initiating a full-scale tirade so soon after her mother’s arrival. Harlean might not always be as forceful as she would like to be, but she did take pride in her ingenuity. For now that would have to do.
Jean glanced down at her own feet, the tense moment between them extinguished in the face of sudden fashion talk, which they both adored.
“Oh, good, I’m glad you like them because, as it happens, I brought you a pair just like them, so we can be twins!”
“Gosh, that’s great, thank you, Mommie. I just love them!”
Suddenly, Marino was standing in the doorway, leaning against the jamb, wearing his customary sly grin. He always reminded Harlean of a gangster, but that was another thing she would never tell her mother. Jean believed him to be the sophisticated savior of a floundering Midwest beauty. In reality, he was a smarmy, two-bit huckster.
“So what have you two gorgeous dames got in store for me today?”
As he posed the question, he touched his moustache. Harlean supressed a twinge of disgust in response. What her mother saw in him she would never know, and she certainly didn’t care to. But they were here now, and Harlean fully intended to take advantage of the visit in order to bring her mother and her husband together at last. She certainly didn’t want this turmoil, she didn’t like it, so that was about to come to an end. She would figure out a way. Being in Hollywood again had given her a new confidence she never knew she had, and finally Harlean felt up to the heady challenge.
* * *
Over the next few days, Jean and Marino settled into the house as if they meant to remain there indefinitely. Clothing was steadily being strewn and piled everywhere in the bedroom and the bathroom. A few pieces even found their way into the living room. Jean’s favorite tablecloth now covered the table in place of one Chuck and Harlean had bought on their honeymoon cruise, and the music on the radio was nearly always the Italian opera that Marino fancied.
As a clear response to their presence in his home, Chuck left early most mornings before Harlean awoke. When he returned at night, he was most often under the influence of more than a few drinks.
“I hate this damn guest room,” he grumbled in the dark as he flopped onto the edge of the bed and tried to remove his own shoes and socks without falling over.
Harlean pressed a hand onto his shoulder in a soothing gesture. “You’re only saying that because Mommie’s in the other room.”
“I’m saying it because I haven’t made love to my wife since her mother installed herself in my bedroom!”
“Shh, pipe down, or she’ll hear you!”
“This isn’t normal, doll, us being separated. I miss the feel of you, the way you taste. Not having you is driving me crazy!”
He pivoted on the bed and pressed her back into the pillows, then arched above her before she had a moment to object.
“I need you, Harlean. I need us. Your mother is gonna ruin everything, I know she will.”
“Don’t say that. You don’t know her like I do. She wants what’s best for me.”
“Not so long ago you told me that was me.”
His thighs anchored hers to the bed, his hands were tightly cuffing her wrists. Harlean pressed her hips into his, wanting the connection with him every bit as much as he did. But the walls in this house were thin, the two rooms separated only by boards and stucco. The springs on the bed frame creaked.
She could hear the muffled sounds of