Heart's Desire (26 page)

Chapter Fifty-three

WHEN I ARRIVE BACK FROM CLEVELAND, THE DOWNSTAIRS lights are still on and so I assume that Bernard is waiting in the living room to ambush me. The wreckage from Rocky’s rampage has been more or less tidied up, aside from a few pieces that were thrown away or sent out for restoration. But Bernard certainly hasn’t forgiven him. Not only does he have the chimp on probation, he’s been giving Rocky the silent treatment as well.

It turns out to be Olivia, who’s reading a book in the living room while awaiting my arrival, and that Bernard went upstairs to bed after returning from the movies. And Olivia’s not there because she’s interested in being the first to get the latest gossip on Gil, either.

“I’m afraid the Kunckle situation is going to be more difficult to resolve than I initially thought,” she confides in me. “Most of the lawyers with whom the Judge used to work have since retired. And the only one remaining whose legal expertise I respect attempted to get me in a clinch this afternoon, the crazy old fool.”

“Sorry to hear that.” However, I don’t know if I agree that he’s crazy, since Olivia is attractive, fun, and sexy. After her husband died, a lot of men in town tried to date her. In fact, if I didn’t like Olivia so much, I’d be jealous that she has so many admirers
and
a steady boyfriend, while I’ve been spending most nights playing hearts against the computer.

“Oh, if only the Judge were still down at the courthouse,” says Olivia. “He would have known exactly how to fix this mess!”

“What are you two witches whispering about down there?” Bernard’s voice can be heard from the top of the stairwell. He comes down wrapped in his bathrobe and sits in a chair opposite us.

Olivia gives me an exasperated look meant to convey how impossible it is to have a discussion in this house without Bernard either eavesdropping or inserting himself. She’s constantly accusing him of being too nosy for his own good. Bernard insists he’s been imbued with insatiable curiosity the same way that virtuosity is in the genetic code of all great musicians.

“Mother, you’ve been entirely too chummy with Hallie over the past few days,” says a not-to-be-left-out Bernard. “Whatever are the two of you cooking up? And it had better not be a surprise party for me! Or if it is, I at least need to have some say regarding the menu. And the theme should involve sequins—they’re all the rage right now. Maybe Las Vegas or Motown or—”

“Would you be devastated if I said that we weren’t discussing
you
?” Olivia cuts him off.

Only I’m secretly guessing that Bernard is actually giving this little performance as a way of demonstrating to us both just how
over
Gil he really is.

“Yes, I
would
find that difficult to believe,” Bernard says with mock astonishment. “But if it’s the truth, then may I take the liberty of proposing myself as an endlessly fascinating topic of conversation?”

Just then Rocky sneaks up behind Bernard and places his hands over Bernard’s eyes the way you do when you want the other person to guess who it is. However, Bernard refuses to play along. “Rocky, stop being a pain in the neck!” he says while removing the chimp’s hands from his face. “You’ve done enough damage for one week. And besides, I’m pretending you don’t exist.”

When Rocky is no longer directly behind Bernard, I can see that he’s wearing a blue-and-white gingham dress complete with white lace gloves, blue hat with white plastic peonies sewn onto the brim, and has a matching blue pocketbook slung over his arm. I recognize the getup from the costume rack in the garage as an outfit worn by Laura Wingfield in Gil’s production of
The Glass Menagerie.
This isn’t the first time that Rocky has made use of the clothing. He always gets to pick something for bartending at Bernard’s theme parties. And once Rocky, Gil, and Bernard dressed up as the Three Gay Caballeros, complete with vests, chaps, and six-shooters, for a benefit to raise money for Gil’s theater group.

Now that Rocky has our full attention, he strikes a pose with one hand above his head, the way he’s seen Bernard do when showing off a new item of vintage clothing that he’s found for the shop.

Olivia laughs so hard that her eyes water. Bernard turns around to see what his mother finds so humorous, and despite the gaily dressed and posed Rocky, he remains in character as the disgruntled homeowner.

“Take that off right now!” orders Bernard.

But Rocky flashes him a wide grin and by this time the overall effect of the ensemble has also struck Bernard and he’s beginning to chuckle, silently at first, as if he’s still determined to remain angry and is only having a slight body spasm. However, when Rocky opens his pocketbook and offers Bernard a lace-trimmed hankie, Bernard completely loses it, suffers an attack of laughter that sounds not entirely unlike whooping cough, and has to lean on the arm of his chair to keep from toppling over.

Olivia comes over and pats Rocky approvingly and says, “I think you’re very convincing as Laura Wingfield.”

Bernard looks down at the floor as he attempts to catch his breath, but every time he glances up and sees Rocky he starts snorting with laughter again. Finally he manages to gasp, “We can tell the audience that Rocky’s fur-covered body is
just a slight imperfection
!” Bernard quotes the famous line from the play and then leans backward in another gale of giggles.

Chapter Fifty-four

BERNARD STILL HAS YET TO ASK ME ABOUT MY DINNER WITH GIL. When I enter the kitchen the next morning he’s singing “Mad About the Boy.” I know it’s stupid to be mad about the boy, I’m so
ashamed of it, But must admit, The sleepless nights I’ve had about the
boy. On the Silver Screen, He melts my foolish heart in every single scene.

Bernard stops his off-key crooning to deliver a message. “Ray phoned while you were in the shower and wants you to call him back.”

“Thanks,” I say, and head for the refrigerator.

“He wants you to visit him in Manhattan this weekend,” continues Bernard. “Of course, it’s much too dangerous to fly these days, not to mention the city itself, and so I implied that I didn’t think you should go.” Bernard proceeds to tell me about the drafting class Ray is taking at Parsons School of Design. Not only that, but he’s pressed Ray into service by asking him to stop at a nearby antiques store and check the price tag on a Hans Holbein rug decorated with stylized Kufic script that Bernard has placed there on consignment. Apparently Bernard is convinced that the owner is lying to him over the phone, insisting he can’t sell the rugs that Bernard sends him for nearly as much money as he really does.

“What did you
do
?” I ask. “Interview Ray for the newspaper?” But everyone knows that if Bernard happens to pick up the phone when he’s the least bit bored or anxious, he’ll talk for an hour, even to someone he doesn’t know. Same with customers who wander into the shop. Olivia says she has to at least give Bernard credit for being an “equal opportunity gossip.”

“I suppose he sounds like a nice-enough young man,” Bernard says and sighs.

It’s obvious he had his hopes up that Craig and I would reconnect, especially after throwing the two of us together in the yard. But as anyone can plainly see, Craig arrives in the morning, does his work, and heads off again before dinner, despite Bernard’s invitation to join us. Though unbeknownst to Bernard, yesterday when everyone else was gone, Craig and I did have a fun lunch together. We sat in the shed eating Fluffernutter sandwiches and drinking big glasses of chocolate Yoo-hoo with scoops of vanilla ice cream in them. I keep the peanut butter and marshmallow Fluff hidden behind the lawn mower because Bernard insists that it’s for “philistines” and will throw it away if he finds it in the kitchen.

Upon finishing the rundown on Ray and the Manhattan rug swindler, Bernard chatters away about the movie that he and Melik went to see as part of a test audience. Afterward they were asked to fill out questionnaires and then participate in a discussion with the famous Danish director Gorm Eghoff.

“The movie takes place in the 1920s and I felt it was my duty to point out that the Zephyr clock on the night table of the wealthy landowner was designed by Kim Weber, inspired by the German Bauhaus style of the period, but not in fact on the market until 1934.”

“You told the director that there’s a mistake in his movie?” I ask.

“Of course,” says Bernard. “I also took the liberty of explaining that Art Deco wasn’t meant as a negation of the hard lines and harsh materials of the Industrial Age, as he implied in the film, so much as the design world’s answer to jazz—a series of riffs and improvisations on the moods and themes of the early twentieth century.”

“And what did Mr. Eghoff say to
that
?” I ask.

“He took my card and expressed an interest in having me consult on the set design for his next film. It’s about an impoverished Scandinavian fisherman who moves to Ohio in the 1890s and becomes a hugely successful wheat farmer.”

“And let me guess, you may just happen to have some items down at the shop that would be perfect for it.”

“Indeed, I might. Mother would have adored the film we saw last night,” he continues. “The migrant workers revolted in the end.”

“Gil is engaged to Doris,” I find myself blurting out.

“Good for him.” Bernard is the essence of cool, but I can tell by the way he clenches his jaw that he wasn’t prepared for
this.
“I hope she registers at a place where I can buy them some driftwood sculptures, ceramic salt-and-pepper shakers shaped like windmills, and a macramé plant hanger with a big philodendron in it.”

“It’s time to bury the spatula,” I say firmly. “We’re going to have dinner with them on Friday night.”

“Absolutely not! I will not be seen at a restaurant with those pseudo-heterosexuals. Besides, I’ve moved on. I’ve washed that man right out of my hair. And I have no intention of going to his place and making a fool of myself like Freddie, singing ‘Here on the Street Where You Live’ in front of a periodontist’s office.”

“You
won’t
make a fool of yourself. We’ll have dinner here. And you can invite Melik. Don’t you want Gil to see what a handsome new boyfriend you have?”

Bernard immediately brightens. “Oh, well, that’s different. I suppose that would be okay. But
not
the trollop, just Gil.”

“It’s too late. I already asked them. And
the trollop
happens to be his fiancée.”

Bernard looks horrified upon hearing the
F
word, but appears to pull himself together in short order. “Very well, then. I’ll have to plan a special dinner.”

In fact, Bernard appears to take the engagement in stride much better than I thought he would, especially since it’s coming practically on top of the bad news about the adoption. And whether Bernard is really fine, or simply wants to appear so, he announces that it’s the perfect morning to try out his new family-sized frittata pan. It has a latch that releases the bottom of the pan so your creation emerges perfectly intact every time.

When I return from taking out the garbage and turning on the sprinklers, Bernard is just finishing a frittata made of ham, onion, red and green pepper, and mushroom that has golden-brown edges and fills the kitchen with a delicious aroma. He carefully removes the pan from the stove and carries it toward the table, where the china plate is ready to go, warm from being in the oven and now garnished with a bed of purple kale. Only the latch slips and the entire frittata slides onto the floor, splattering into dozens of tiny red, yellow, and green chunks.

“Dammit!” he curses at the pan without a bottom that’s in his right hand. He puts his other hand up to his face as if this is the last straw and he’s going to burst into tears.

“Don’t worry about it,” I say. “I’ll clean it up. The latch probably just needs tightening.”

Bernard recovers himself and studies the side of the pan. “I don’t think I locked it the way the directions said to.”

“I was in the mood for cereal anyway.” Grabbing a wad of paper towels, I start to wipe up the floor.

He lets out a weak laugh. “I guess it’s like what Brandt is always telling me about the computer—a frittata pan is only as good as its operator.”