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she made sure we could relate to Dickens and Twain and Shakespeare and Ephron and Capra and Hitchcock—all those whom she considered so singularly excellent at the craft of storytelling.
she made sure we could relate to Dickens and Twain and Shakespeare and Ephron and Capra and Hitchcock—all those whom she considered so singularly excellent at the craft of storytelling.
My mother treated writing like something that had to be done. She loved it; it was for fun and for her soul and it was something completely her own. And now she has her chance to share it with the world.
My mother treated writing like something that had to be done. She loved it; it was for fun and for her soul and it was something completely her own. And now she has her chance to share it with the world.
Everywhere I look it’s designer dresses, tailor-made tuxes, and the predatory gaze of the rich and vacuous.
Everywhere I look it’s designer dresses, tailor-made tuxes, and the predatory gaze of the rich and vacuous.
As an antiques dealer, she has quite an eye and makes a good living selling the overpriced to the overindulged.
As an antiques dealer, she has quite an eye and makes a good living selling the overpriced to the overindulged.
But nothing’s really free, is it? People always make you pay one way or another.
But nothing’s really free, is it? People always make you pay one way or another.
And in all the years since, all those years of making movies in America, I have never ceased to profit from this country’s endless appetite for amusement, coupled with its astonishing weakness of intellect.”
And in all the years since, all those years of making movies in America, I have never ceased to profit from this country’s endless appetite for amusement, coupled with its astonishing weakness of intellect.”
There will always be exceptions to the rule. Though mind you, never enough to have any effect whatsoever on the entertainment turned out by Hollywood.”
There will always be exceptions to the rule. Though mind you, never enough to have any effect whatsoever on the entertainment turned out by Hollywood.”
He hands me the card. It is a thick, creamy vellum, the very weight of which says money. It is not, I suspect, the card he distributes to men and women with whom he does business. Rather, it’s the valentine he hands out to unattached women with whom he desires monkey business.
He hands me the card. It is a thick, creamy vellum, the very weight of which says money. It is not, I suspect, the card he distributes to men and women with whom he does business. Rather, it’s the valentine he hands out to unattached women with whom he desires monkey business.
Well, I think, the joke’s on you, Charlotte. For the unhappy truth is that I am the survivor of a shipwrecked life. I’m a castaway who has washed up on your shore without craft, without hope, and without the one person I ever really loved. In other words, my dear half sister, I have nothing left to give.
Well, I think, the joke’s on you, Charlotte. For the unhappy truth is that I am the survivor of a shipwrecked life. I’m a castaway who has washed up on your shore without craft, without hope, and without the one person I ever really loved. In other words, my dear half sister, I have nothing left to give.
What I do find is a small stash of white powder. Hell-o, kitty, I think. So this is what you find if you dig through to China.
What I do find is a small stash of white powder. Hell-o, kitty, I think. So this is what you find if you dig through to China.
Charlotte puts down the cigarette pack, gets up, and walks over to the globe. She positions herself there, spreading both hands over the Arctic Ocean and patting the world with her fingertips, its cocaine-filled interior no doubt calling to her. Charlotte may have given up smoking, but she’s retained other vices.
Charlotte puts down the cigarette pack, gets up, and walks over to the globe. She positions herself there, spreading both hands over the Arctic Ocean and patting the world with her fingertips, its cocaine-filled interior no doubt calling to her. Charlotte may have given up smoking, but she’s retained other vices.
She honestly believed they’d meet in the afterlife, that he’d walk up to her in heaven or purgatory or some damn place and demand his golf clubs, a Tom Collins, and the car keys. Anyway, she always kept the car in perfect condition.”
She honestly believed they’d meet in the afterlife, that he’d walk up to her in heaven or purgatory or some damn place and demand his golf clubs, a Tom Collins, and the car keys. Anyway, she always kept the car in perfect condition.”
Below us, parked on the circular drive, is my father’s two-seater MG. Top down, candy-apple red, absolutely gorgeous. Rakish and wonderful, its wire wheels and chrome work gleam in the sun. I haven’t seen that car since I was ten years old. I forget that I’m broke and three thousand miles from home, that my half sister is a cocaine addict and my niece some sort of fugitive bride. Instead, I remember how our father looked at the wheel of his favorite automobile—elegant, laughing, full of life.
Below us, parked on the circular drive, is my father’s two-seater MG. Top down, candy-apple red, absolutely gorgeous. Rakish and wonderful, its wire wheels and chrome work gleam in the sun. I haven’t seen that car since I was ten years old. I forget that I’m broke and three thousand miles from home, that my half sister is a cocaine addict and my niece some sort of fugitive bride. Instead, I remember how our father looked at the wheel of his favorite automobile—elegant, laughing, full of life.
merges onto the Pacific Coast Highway. We travel south along the narrow, twisty road, the ocean to one side of us, rolling hills on the other. It’s early spring. There’s not a cloud in the sky, and you can smell the sea. It’s a perfect day for riding in a convertible.
gliding down Route 66 you get glimpses of what life was like fifty or sixty years ago in Southern California. White stucco motor courts bake in the sun. Mom-and-pop grocery stores hawk cigarettes and cold beer. A fruit stand in the shape of a giant orange peddles fresh-squeezed juice.
the point is, don’t you see how an adventure like that could imprint on a little girl’s brain? How driving off at the age of seven in a red MG driven by Cary Grant would be difficult to top in later years? You don’t get over it; no woman could. To some extent, it’s influenced everything I’ve ever done. Millions of women melted from just seeing him on the screen, and I . . . I rode with him in a convertible. And that’s why I cried when you brought me ice-cream. Because once—when my parents were alive and I was young and happy—I sat in this very car and was offered ice-cream by—” “The greatest
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It is not true that misery loves company. What misery loves is a double martini.
He laughs, and we’re best friends again. I find with shopkeepers, estranged relatives, and public officials, sometimes all it takes is a large sum of money.
That’s what falling in love is, isn’t it? Discovering the hidden value in someone.”
Colleen Moore was an American film star—huge, really—in silent films of the 1920s.
Well, one day, you’re the Angelina Jolie of 1926, and the next all that’s left behind is your giant rococo dollhouse.
Now I comprehend why she spent eight years of her life and nearly half a million dollars building this elaborate fantasy. It was her solace. It was her distraction. It was her drug of choice. It was how she tried to heal her broken heart. She built a magic castle, a perfect home where no one was ever sad and where love lived forever. She herself called it her folly. But was she talking about the dollhouse or her obsession with John McCormick? Love never dies. Ain’t that the truth? And we all go mad in our own way. Glittering dollhouse or bottomless glass of Gordon’s gin, in the end it’s pretty
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For some reason I can’t explain, now I feel bad and embarrassed all over again. Maybe it’s because Kay is not at all young, and I can tell she must have been pretty in her day. Maybe it’s because even movie stars lose their looks. Maybe it’s just because everyone’s life is so terribly fragile.
“It’s no excuse, but I wasn’t feeling well either,” I say. “I had a headache.” “You drink,” she says flatly. This brings me up short. “Well, that’s not anything I want to talk about.” Kay gives a dry laugh. “No, I don’t imagine. Talking about it means you’d have to face it. But I can spot a lush a mile away. You think I’ll be dead soon? Child, go on like you are, you’ll beat me to it.” Her gaze softens. She pats my hand. “You’re not alone, you know. Plenty of help out there. Last month, my husband—second husband, met him at a meeting—took me out for my thirtieth anniversary. Thirty years of
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Kay grabs my hand and squeezes it. “Have a safe trip home, Margo,” she says. “One day at a time.” She releases my hand and starts to walk away, and I realize I’m sorry to see her go. “I hope you live forever!” I call after her. “Already have,” she says, giving a backhanded wave. She rounds a corner and disappears from my sight.
It’s while he’s saying this that I see Tully not as Georgia’s jilted suitor, or the driver of my father’s MG, or even an oddball author of oddball books. No, I perceive him as his own man. I look away and remember how it was traveling with Tully these last few days, just the two of us, to Chicago. I remember that he has his own interests, his own passions. Perhaps even his own demons.
Do our lives circle ceaselessly until, at last, we come back to our beginnings?
“Ab imo pectore,” he said in Latin. Meaning, “From the bottom of my heart.”
I was discovering that smart, engaged dialogue with a man is extremely erotic. Cleverness is an aphrodisiac.
“So this gentleman you’re seeing is an enigma?” she finally said. “Un mystère? Of course, when we don’t know someone, we tend to make up stories about them. Stories that may or may not prove accurate.”
Today it’s all fart jokes, misogyny, and drug humor.
Architectural Salvage always makes me think of when archaeologist Howard Carter first peered into King Tut’s tomb. Carter was asked if he could see anything. “Yes,” he said, “wonderful things.”
aside from genetics, the number one requirement for being a drunk is self-pity.”
Georgia made me feel young again, made me feel it was okay not to take responsibility for my life. But it’s not okay. I know that falling for Georgia was falling for a dream.”
The two of us moved together like one electrified soul. One being. Dancing with Finn was delicious. It was enchantment. It was heaven. It was the closest thing to good sex we ever had.
we’re here a brief time and then . . . we’re gone. I wanted to take notice. Perhaps people a hundred years ago were nicer, kinder, than people today. Anyway, it’s pleasant to think that.”
I was thinking how most people don’t make you feel much of anything at all. Don’t make you feel like time spent with them has grace, like every moment in their company is a gift. But Finn did. Finn, my midsummer night’s dream.
