All the Stars in the Heavens (49 page)

Judy was about to turn five when her play pal Cammie King invited her to her fifth birthday party.

The Kings lived in the flats of Beverly Hills, wide, winding streets dotted with a mix of architectural styles—Tudor, Cape Cod, Georgian. Somehow, just like the back lots, where Western saloons were built next to a replica of the Parthenon, the crazy quilt of mixed styles worked.

Judy was dressed as Bo Peep for the costume birthday party. Irene the costumer had made Judy a blue satin dress, pantaloons, and, by request of Loretta, a matching bonnet. Loretta had tied the bow under Judy's chin and said, “Remember, Little Bo Peep wears her bonnet at all times.”

Judy ran up the walk of her friend's house and into the party ahead of Loretta. Cammie's mother, Pamela, a trim California blonde, greeted her at the door.

“I'm so glad you could make it, Loretta.”

“Wouldn't have missed it.”

“I'm up to my ears,” Pamela said.

“Let me help.”

Loretta followed Pamela into the kitchen, modern and white. The table was filled with trays of food, miniature hot dogs, cups of chili with faces made of cheese strips, and stalks of celery filled with peanut butter and studded with raisins.

Beyond the kitchen, Loretta could see the backyard, where the children were playing in a pint-size circus, with clowns helping them play games.

“Can you clean the strawberries?” Pamela asked.

“Happy to.”

“Loretta, I wanted to talk you. You were a child actress.”

“I was four when I was in my first picture.”

“Cammie just wrapped on
Gone with the Wind
.”

“Did she enjoy it?”

“Loved it. Mr. Gable was so kind to her—and evidently Vivien Leigh is lovely. We're going to show some rushes later—Mr. Selznick is sending his man over here.”

“How nice.” Loretta got a knot in her stomach. She'd been out to dinner a few times with Tom Lewis, and was having a wonderful time, looking to the future, but nothing stopped her heart like the mention of Clark Gable.

“Do you think it's all right for Cammie to continue acting?”

“Pamela, the business was so new then. It was a lark. All my sisters were extras—we did it for fun. I think once it isn't fun, you pull her out of it.”

Loretta helped Pamela bring the platters outside, and the children came running for the goodies. Judy saw her mother and ran for her.

“Mama!” she called.

The children gathered around the platters, grabbing whatever was closest to them.

“Judy, you can take your bonnet off. It's hot out here,” Pamela said as she turned to hand out bottles of soda to the children.

Judy looked at her mother. Loretta gave her daughter a look, which Judy obeyed. The bonnet stayed on.

“Judy has big ears!” a little boy in a cowboy hat announced.

“Elephant ears!” another boy taunted her.

Mrs. King went over to the boys. “That is not nice. You apologize to Judy, or there will be no cake for you two.”

“Sorry,” the boys chimed to Judy.

Loretta was devastated for her daughter but made light of it, by joining in a game of Pin the Tail on the Donkey.

As the sun went down, the flats of Beverly Hills were covered in a soft lavender haze. The children gathered inside to open presents. Cammie was a sweet girl, and tore into each gift with relish.

Loretta stood back against the wall with the other mothers as Pamela orchestrated the opening of the gifts.

“Wanna see me in the movie?” Cammie said, standing up.

The children cheered, Judy Young the loudest.

As the lights went down, the familiar
whap
of the projector began. The children settled down, and the mothers were giddy.

“I heard this movie is spectacular,” one mother said.

The images jumped on the screen, first with the scrawl bits between the scenes. Cammie jumped up. “There I am!”

Pamela played a scene where Cammie as Bonnie Blue Butler was riding a pony, dressed in ruffles from head to toe.

Judy was mesmerized by the image.

Gable stood up and cheered his daughter on as Vivien Leigh sat primly in a chair. The camera went in close on Gable, and Loretta couldn't breathe.

Her daughter was watching her father. This was more than Loretta could stand. The best actress in the world wouldn't get through
the pain of this, and she could not fake it. She felt like someone was choking her, or not someone but something—the memory of a love that she could not shake, no matter how hard she tried.

All Loretta had left from the glorious days when she had Gable all to herself was Judy. And she couldn't share the truth with her daughter. How could she ever ask an innocent child to keep a secret that carried such shame?

Loretta knelt down and reached for Judy, who crawled to her mother. “Honey, let's go home,” Loretta whispered in her daughter's ear.

“But Mama, the cake.”

“I'll make you a cake.”

“Okay!” Judy was happy.

Loretta and Judy snuck out of the previews and out of the house. Once outside, they ran to Loretta's car to head for home.

A
ll of southern California, it seems, had turned out for Loretta's wedding to Tom Lewis at the chapel of Saint Paul's Church in Westwood. The intimate ceremony had turned into a premiere, with fans lining the streets and sitting on their cars to get a better look. Tom's relatives came from the East, while folks who loved a Hollywood extravaganza had come from as far away as Carmel, packing picnic lunches to sustain them as they waited outside for a glimpse of the bride and groom following their nuptial mass.

The costume designer Irene had made Loretta a wedding gown in shades of blue, using layers of tulle netting that rolled like the waves of a lake in the sun as she walked down the aisle. With each step Loretta took, she was more confident that this was a solid decision. It was time. Her sisters were in stable marriages. Georgiana was growing up. Gladys Belzer's interior design firm was solid and prospering. And everyone around Loretta had married, including Mr. Gable. At twenty-seven, Loretta felt like the last single woman standing in Hollywood.

Every aspect of Loretta's decision to marry Tom Lewis made sense to her. Judy would finally have a father. Loretta would create a family of her own, with a fine man. Her career would move forward; Tom was fully supportive of his movie star wife.

But first, Tom Lewis had work to do. He had to take control of Loretta Young Enterprises.

Gladys Belzer had been an accidental visionary, putting any spare money into real estate in Beverly Hills and the surrounding communities. She had superb taste and a thriving interior design studio, but she was a lousy bookkeeper. She had collected so much real estate over the years, she wasn't certain how much land she actually owned. Tom, a crack businessman, buried himself in the deeds and paperwork and sorted out the complex system Gladys had created.

Lewis negotiated deals to sell property, refinanced mortgages, opened accounts, closed others, and cleaned up their taxes. He took the burden of the accounting off his new mother-in-law, who didn't enjoy numbers or keeping the books. Loretta, for her part, welcomed the input. She craved the order and management that Tom brought to the marriage and to the family business interests. She let him do whatever he wished with her money, trusting him implicitly.

While the wedding reception was winding down, Alda had slipped away to organize and display the wedding gifts in the living room of Sunset House. Loretta's honeymoon trousseau was packed. All Loretta had to do was change into her going-away outfit.

“I've never seen so many boxes!” Loretta said, peeling off her picture hat.

“It was a lovely mass. Everyone enjoyed the reception,” Alda said as she tied a ribbon around a stack of unopened cards and telegrams.

“What a mob scene.”

“That's what happens when a movie star gets married.”

“That's why they elope.” Loretta smiled. “I'm going up to kiss Judy good night. She seemed to have a good time at the wedding.”

“She's happy whenever you're with her.”

“I was that way with my mother.” Loretta turned to go up the stairs.

“Loretta?”

“Yes, Alda?”

“Does he know?”

“Does he know what?”

“Have you told Tom that Judy is your daughter?”

“He hasn't asked.”

“Loretta”—Alda deliberately called her boss by her screen name whenever she wanted to make a serious point—“he knows how much money you have, and he knows how much property you own, but he has no idea that Judy is your daughter.”

Loretta snapped, “Alda, I know what I'm doing.”

“I don't think you do. You have to tell your daughter the truth. And you have to tell Tom the truth.”

“It's none of your concern.”

“I've been with you for eight years. Eight volatile years in your life. I've watched you navigate some painful situations with grace. I'm your friend, which is why I can tell you the truth. You have to tell your daughter that you're her mother and Clark Gable is her father. And then you have to sit Tom Lewis down and tell him the truth. He has cornered me several times with questions. He thinks Judy is Sally's baby—”

“That's ridiculous. I asked him if there was anything about me he wanted to know, and he told me he knew everything he needed to know.”

“You're the only person who can tell him the truth.”

“I can't.”

“You won't.”

“I can't. He'll leave me.”

“You're married all of six hours. I don't think he'll leave you.”

Alda followed Loretta up the stairs to her bedroom suite. In her opinion, Loretta at twenty-seven was still young enough to chart a new course, yet old enough to have acquired some wisdom. Alda saw hard edges developing around the tender girl she'd met when she moved to Los Angeles, and she didn't like them. She didn't think they were natural, or true to Loretta's nature. Alda figured that losing Gable to Lombard had left Loretta resentful of what she would never have.

Alda closed the bedroom door behind her. She helped Loretta into her going-away suit, a blue silk suit with a cargo jacket and big pockets piped in white.

“I'll deal with this when I get home,” Loretta said quietly.

Tom Lewis poked his head through the bedroom door. “Is everything all right, darling?”

Loretta beamed. “Fine, just fine.”

“I'll be downstairs.”

Tom Lewis stopped in his stepdaughter's room. She was sleeping soundly in the moonlight. Tom smiled. She was a cute kid, quiet and well-mannered. He was lucky that he wasn't walking into a situation where he had to navigate parenthood with a spoiled Hollywood brat. He had enough on his plate, with his wife's convoluted finances and real estate holdings. Tom tiptoed across the room and left a note for Judy, with a small box. He had bought her a charm bracelet filled with tiny crystal stars. Tom wanted Judy to know she was important to him, and that he would take good care of her. The wedding day had gotten away from him—with the crowds, guests, and hoopla, he had hardly seen his new stepdaughter.

Alda handed Loretta her purse.

“I put your retainer in its case. It's in your purse. Don't lose it.”

“Thank you. I haven't told Tom about the retainer yet.”

“He'll get used to it,” Alda reassured her.

Loretta turned to Alda and gave her a big hug. “Trust me.”

“It's not about trust. It's about peace of mind. You finally have the opportunity to have it. Please take it. Own it. It's yours. You deserve it.”

Loretta nodded. “Take these gifts to the Camden House, would you?” she asked. “And stay on top of Mother. I want Tom to carry me across the threshold of the new house when we get back. Please make it happen.”

“I'll do my best.”

Loretta stopped to kiss sleeping Judy good-bye. She tiptoed across the room, gave her daughter several kisses, and stepped back to look at her. Her eye caught the envelope and box on the nightstand. It was addressed, “To Judy from Daddy.”

If Loretta had had any doubts about her decision to marry Tom Lewis, they were gone now. She had made the right decision. She would have everything she'd dreamed of, and everything she had wanted for Judy, including the fence with the roses.

Loretta was lying in the hotel bed with a stack of fan magazines when Tom came through the door. “Feel like going to the pool?”

“Of course, darling.”

Loretta and Tom had driven for their honeymoon to Mexico, where Tom had made arrangements at the Del Sol, an exclusive resort just over the border.

“I spoke with the hotel management, they're setting up a cabana for us.”

“Good idea.” Loretta could see that Tom was frustrated. “You did a splendid job planning the honeymoon. I love it. And I'm sorry that there's so much interest in us.”

To Loretta's surprise, fans had figured out the location, and had been waiting outside the hotel for them. If there was one thing fans loved more than a good movie, it was a real life wedding. At first Tom was patient, but as the honeymoon went on, he began to lose it. If one more person shouted “Mr. Young!” at him, he'd let them know how he felt.

“I wanted to be alone with you.”

“We will. When we get home, life will get back to normal. In Los Angeles, I'm one of the crowd.”

“I wanted this to be special.”

“It is! Now, go and change and I'll meet you at the pool.”

Tom kissed Loretta. “More mail,” he said, handing her a stack of envelopes.

Loretta rifled through the stack. Her eye caught the name NIVEN on a telegram. She ripped into it.

GRETCH, YOU ARE NOT THE ONLY ONE MARRIED THIS

WEEK. PRIMMIE AND I LOCKED.

LOVE TO YOU AND TAD. NIV.

Loretta hid the telegram at the bottom of the stack as Tom grabbed a towel and headed out to the pool. As soon as he was gone, she tore up the telegram and threw it in the sink. She lit a match and burned it until it was nothing but black char. It seemed the moment the
priest pronounced them married, Tom changed. His strength, which she admired, became controlling; his worldiness now appeared as arrogance. Loretta learned that every woman compromised when it came to marriage. No one person could possibly make her happy in all the ways she hoped a husband might. Tom was responsible and solid. He was not an actor. She reminded herself that she chose a civilian because she wanted a stable life with a man who would be faithful to her.

Loretta already understood Tom Lewis's vulnerabilities. He couldn't understand Niv calling him Tad, and he didn't find it funny. In fact, Loretta didn't think the two men would get along at all. Different senses of humor, opposite approaches to life. Loretta was going to make this marriage work, and in order to do so, she would manage everything she said and did. She was determined to have a happy marriage and a father for Judy. She would play the part of dutiful wife and compromise to make Tom happy. It also meant building a wall between her life and friendships before Tom and her marriage after. Loretta was used to sorting her relationships into compartments, and so it would go as Mrs. Tom Lewis.

The August sun burned through the palm trees on Sunset as Alda drove to the Camden House, Loretta's new home with Tom Lewis, which was under renovation and refurbishment by Gladys Belzer. While Loretta and Tom were off on their honeymoon, Alda and Gladys were hastily preparing the home for the newlyweds. New appliances had been installed, floors refinished, and finally the walls were being painted in preparation for the hanging of the draperies.

Alda pulled up in front of the elegant cottage, obscured by trees with low, lush green branches. A white fence surrounded the property. It was covered in red roses, just as Loretta had imagined.

“Yoohoo!” Gladys called through the window.

Much work had been done, but there was a lot to finish before Loretta and Tom returned. Alda had goosed Gladys as much as she could. Nevertheless, the house was a jewel box. Gladys had painted the walls in shades of blue, and the living room wall was covered in
a mural of a fairy-tale castle. This was an ideal place for a newlywed couple, but for sure, Gladys hadn't forgotten her granddaughter.

“What do you think?”

“Gretchen will love it.”

Without taking her eyes off the mural, Gladys asked, “Do you think Gretchen is happy?”

“I hope so.”

“She called to speak to Judy. She said it was a madhouse in Mexico. Fans found out where they were staying. Well, you could imagine. She seemed preoccupied.”

“Mr. Lewis seems like a practical man. He had to understand how popular Gretchen is with the public. Especially since radio. Radio reaches millions of people.”

“Good point.”

“I'm worried that Mr. Lewis believes Loretta is going to retire. I don't think he has any idea how much she loves her work.”

“How would he know? He flew in and out from New York, he'd see her for dinner, and he'd fly out again. He has no idea how hard she works.”