Vicky Banning (22 page)

“Now,” called
Doris
as she motioned for silence. “We have a little gift for you, Vicky.” She turned to Clive, the drummer. “If you please,” she said with a wave. He played a long drum roll, topped by a clash of cymbals.

“For your hard work and unwavering virtuosity,”
Doris
recited, “we’ve decided to award you the trophy of
Playgirl Of The Year!
” She stepped to one side and waved an arm toward the door at the rear of the podium. “Ladies and gentlemen…the
trophy!
”

The door swung open and Vicky led the chorus of hilarious squeals that burst forth from the audience. The great expanse of room was filled with roars of laughter and catcalls, to greet a mountain of a man, handsome and rippling with muscles, and wearing the scantiest of swimsuits barely this side of Michelangelo’s
David
.

He lumbered up to Vicky, swept her up into his arms and kissed her firmly on the cheek—while she laughed hysterically the whole time—to the accompaniment of wolf-whistles from the delighted audience.

“Well,” Vicky said when she finally caught her breath. She grinned broadly to the crowd and, when able once again to speak, said, “It seems that my chauffeur has arrived early. So if you’ll excuse us…”

* * * *

“Jamesville Travel?” Vicky asked, speaking into the phone. “My name is
Tippi
Denning and I’d like to make a one-way reservation, coach, to San Francisco from either Harrisburg or Philadelphia on the fifteenth of April…non-stop, please.” She waited a moment. “
Philadelphia
will be fine, then. And would you make it on whatever flight has the most
First Class
seats available? I may wish to upgrade my ticket later on, and I’d rather not have to change the flight or airline. Oh, and one last thing, I must have an aisle seat.” After firming up the details, she told the agent that she’d stop into the office and pay for the ticket, then hung up.

She checked the number for the airline in the telephone book, she redialed.

“Good morning,” she said. “My name is Vicky Banning. I’d like to make a one-way First Class reservation from
Philadelphia
to
San Francisco
on April fifteenth on your
10 A.M.
flight. Can you charge it to my credit card and mail the ticket to me?”

Vicky gave the clerk all the information he needed, concluding her business. She then skimmed through the collection of airline stationery she’d accumulated through the years, withdrawing the sheets with the logo of the carrier she’d be flying. She attached them to the form letter she’d composed years ago—never having felt the need to change it—and reminded herself that when she typed this version that she must pay attention to filling in the blanks, rather than having some of them left open, as she’d done once before. That had been a most embarrassing experience.

* * * *

Day thirty
, Vicky thought. The days were growing longer again, as her big day drew nearer. Anticipation grew within her as each passed, and it now created a fluttering in her chest that she couldn’t still. She slowed down to savor each passing day to its fullest, while eagerness swelled her desire to rush on. She looked forward to her departure with ambiguous feelings: the joy of seeing her family again, being near Gerald. She wrestled with the despair she felt deep inside at the thought of leaving her new friends, those she’d learned to care for so deeply, those she’d miss for a long, long time.

What must be done, must be done
, she insisted to herself. She lifted the phone once again and made a reservation for a party of six in a private dining room of
La
Malmaison
, the most exclusive French restaurant in
Harrisburg
—for a week before her departure.

* * * *

“That was exquisite!”
Burton
exclaimed, when he’d finished his
Marquise au
chocolat
.

Vicky smiled at him and at her other guests. The dinner had been superb; the dining room, with its L
ouis
Quatorze
décor and candlelit serenity, was more than she’d hoped for. They’d nearly been successful in quelling the trepidation she felt about what was to come so soon.

“But you’ve been so extravagant,”
Doris
said. “I must admit that this was probably the most delicious meal I’ve ever eaten—and I’ve eaten quite a few, in case you haven’t noticed—but why…?

“You still haven’t told us what the occasion is,” Steve said.

“Yes,” Sarah piped up. “We all agree that this has been an absolutely marvelous evening, and we certainly appreciate it, but what prompted the celebration?”

Vicky saw Roger look across at her, his face solemn. He’d barely spoken during dinner and of late seemed to be studying her, his glances more questioning than his words. She looked away from him, longing to reach out and touch his hand. “Time enough for that with our liqueurs.” She was stalling and knew it, but she couldn’t bring herself to speak until there was no alternative. The waiter stepped forward when she motioned to him, nodded and then left.

A tray of crystal stemware filled with
vari
-colored cordials was brought to the table and the demitasse cups were filled with rich, dark coffee, each garnished with a twist of lemon.

“A toast,”
Burton
said, rising his snifter of brandy. “To our mysterious hostess in green; may she always be as lovely and charming as she is tonight.”

Vicky smiled gently, nodding her head in acknowledgement of the compliment. Roger and Steve stood, following
Burton
’s lead, and Vicky’s five guests raised their glasses in homage. “To Vicky,” they toasted, before sipping at their drinks.

Vicky didn’t speak—couldn’t speak.

When everyone was seated again,
Doris
said, “When you get back from your trip, maybe we can work together on some ideas for the crafts show. I thought this year we’d do something…”

“I’m…” Vicky began…stopped. She drew in her breath and held it, before she was able to continue in a faltering voice. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to help you out with this one.” Try as she might, she couldn’t think of a wisecrack or joke that would lighten the weight of what she had to say. She looked at the faces around the table, friends’ faces, blank now with incomprehension. Softly, she said, “I won’t be coming back.”

Absolute stillness stretched for long moments before the faces turned to look at each other, seeking explanations; lips were parted in shock, unable to form words that would make sense of what had been spoken. Distant sounds faded away.

“What do you mean?” each voice in turn called. “Why? What has happened? What’s wrong?”

Vicky said, “The reason for tonight’s dinner isn’t a celebration…it is for me to say good-bye to some of the most wonderful people I’ve ever had the good fortune to call my friends. I chose tonight because most of my baggage will be collected for shipment tomorrow and I wanted you all to know beforehand.”

“But why? Where are you going? Why didn’t you tell us?” the four voices cried out. Roger sat quietly, his face drawn with the effort of having to keep his emotions intact, but bearing up by accepting what was to be. His eyes brimmed with tears.

Vicky smiled warmly at him, and then at the others, her look almost shy as she said, “I’m going to be with my Gerald.”

Residents and friends gathered in the entranceway of the Sanctuary to bid Vicky farewell. There were tears and smiles and “we’ll miss
yous
,” spoken with genuine sadness before the crowd began to disperse. Vicky was left with Doris, Roger, and Steve. A little lady, who Vicky couldn’t remember ever having said more than “good morning” to in the year she’d been at the Sanctuary, approached the threesome with tiny, shy steps.

“I don’t know you well,” the lady said softly, to Vicky, “but I would just like you to know that I…we have truly enjoyed having you with us.” She passed a small, tissue-wrapped package to her, adding, “I made this for you some time ago, but was too embarrassed to give…it’s really nothing…maybe just a little something to remember us by.”

Vicky watched her rush off, regretting that she hadn’t taken the time, slowed down long enough, to get to know more of her housemates better. She looked down at the package and drew open the ribbon holding it closed. Inside was a square of silk, embroidered with comedy and tragedy masks on a sunburst; Vicky Banning, Star, was sewn in gold along the bottom.

Vicky almost lost it. Tears welled up to overflowing. She looked off in the direction the little lady had gone, but she was no longer in sight.

Roger came to her, put his arm around her and hugged her close. “I knew something was up with you,” he said. “You were either hyperactive or slowed to a near-standstill during the past month.”

Vicky smiled, and whispered, “See how close we’ve become? I don’t think anyone else even noticed.”

“You won’t explain what you meant last week?” he asked. “About going to be with your Gerald? I’m not prying,” he added. “I’m concerned.”

“I know you are,” Vicky said. “And thank you. But don’t be. I’ll explain it all later, honestly. It’s just something I can never talk about beforehand, it’s too…I’ll write to you, soon. Or call you. Now give me a big kiss…and for goodness sake, smile. Be happy for me. You all look like you just found out you’re pregnant!”

Roger kissed her lightly on the lips. “I envy Keith,” he said. “He’s a lucky man to have a mother like you.”

“Mother?” Vicky exclaimed. “I told you that Keith was my son, but I never said I was his mother!”

Roger’s face flared to one of confused astonishment as her words sunk in. His mouth opened into a silent. “
Wha
…?”

Vicky guffawed. “My darling,” she said, “you really
must
learn not to be so gullible! Of course I’m his mother.”

The blare of the taxi driver’s honking of his horn was be heard through the closed door.

With a voice strained through tears,
Doris
said, “Isn’t there anything we can say to convince you to stay, or come back?”

Vicky lowered her head and shook it slowly, then looked up at
Doris
. “Not as things are now, my dear friend. If it were for nothing more than to be with those of you I love so dearly, I’d stay, or be back tomorrow. But I’ve used up…I mean, I’ve filled this past year the best and most productive way I knew how, and now I must move on. I promised.”

She looked to her left into the dining room in which she’d first met Sarah, then to the right into the parlor where she’d performed on Vegas Night. Her eyes ascended the long sweep of stairs and she visualized her room as it had been when she arrived—now bare of all her personal touches, including Mark Spitz, who was safely rolled up and on his way west. Only the envelopes addressed to
Doris
remained, to be opened after she was gone.

The taxi horn sounded again.

“I must go,” she said. She’d insisted that no one drive her to the airport. Separating from her friends, difficult enough at the Sanctuary, would have been unbearable among strangers at an airport. Anyway, there were things she had to do in the taxi that she didn’t want anyone else to witness—including having a long cry alone, if there was time.

She stood back to survey the faces before her. “I’ve loved every minute,” she said as she turned away, and opened the door to step into the chill April air. With steadfast control, she crossed the veranda to descend the steps and caress the handrail along the pathway to the street. The driver held the taxi door open for her. Before she entered, she turned to wave at the misty group congregated on the veranda between the soaring white columns.

I’ll miss you all so
, she cried silently, before stooping to enter the cab. “Ready, driver,” she said facing forward. She consciously forced the past year from her mind, temporarily. She would think about it often as time passed, she knew, with love and laughter and oh, so much longing.

As much as she wanted to, she did not look back as the driver moved slowly away from the curb and along the street. She had to keep a clear head. The things she had to do required all her concentration. Pulling her small overnight case onto her lap, she snapped open the locks and rummaged through the contents. She peered into the mirror inside the lid and began to remove her makeup.

When the taxi came to a halt at the airline terminal, Vicky stepped from it wearing what she referred to as her “Mother Hubbard” outfit: a Mary
Poppins
hat, dowdy-print dress, and “sensible” laced-up shoes—an outfit she wouldn’t wish on her worst enemy, if she had one.

She tipped the cab driver handsomely, mostly for not asking questions, then followed the red cap and her baggage to the check-in counter, her coat draped over her arm with the lining on the outside. Once there she waited patiently, wearing her most demure, angelically-sweet smile.

“
Tippi
Benning
,” she said to the harried-looking young man behind the counter, when her turn came. She passed the tourist class ticket across the counter to him. “If it’s not too much trouble, dear…please…I’d like an aisle seat.”

“Smoking or non-smoking?” the man asked brusquely, but feigned a smile.

“Whatever’s convenient for you, dear,” Vicky answered timidly. “But I, myself, personally, do not smoke.”

The man seemed to soften under her humility; his dark eyes seemed to lighten and his attitude became almost apologetic. “Seat seventeen-C, Miss
Benning
,” he said, returning the flight coupon and the passenger’s copy to her. They were enfolded in a new jacket—one of the airline’s own. “Your flight will be boarding in half-an-hour from gate number four, which is to your left. Have a very pleasant trip, ma’am.”

“Thank you, dear,” Vicky said with a smile and scurried away.
Half-an-hour. Great! That gives me plenty of time.

Lugging her handbag, overnight case, and coat, she roamed through the waiting lounge and found an empty seat near the window overlooking the tarmac. She removed the passenger’s copy of the tourist ticket from the airline jacket, slipped it into her purse and replaced it with the passenger’s copy of the first class coupon showing her name as
Banning
. Now all she hoped for was a novice flight attendant—preferably male.

When the flight was announced, Vicky struggled with her hand baggage until a ground crewman—such a lovely gentleman, “thank you”—took pity on a little old lady and volunteered to carry her things and escort her to the aircraft.

Benning’s
tourist flight coupon was lifted as Vicky boarded the Boeing 727 aircraft and she was directed to her aisle seat in the crowded rear cabin of the plane, where she waited somewhat impatiently for the “thing” to take off. While passing through the First Class section, she noticed that only half of the seats were occupied.

Within a few minutes, the heavy doors slammed shut, the plane taxied toward the runway and Vicky felt the increase in pressure as they gathered speed and lifted from the ground.

“Would you care for something to drink, madam?” a slim young male attendant asked her, after the no-smoking sign blinked off with a chime. “Soft drink?
Champagne
?”

“Oh, no,” Vicky tittered. “
Champagne
always tasted to me like vinegar with bubbles. I don’t care for anything, thank you, but when you’re finished serving the others, may I ask you a few questions? You do know
San Francisco
, don’t you?”

“Oh, yes, ma’am. I live there,” he replied. “I’ll be back to you as soon as I finish serving the drinks.”

Super
, Vicky thought.
A male flight attendant, living in
San Francisco
, not wearing wedding band. Ten-to-one he’s one of ‘the boys,’ and they do have such respect for mother figures.
She thought once again about how often the “fellows” seemed attracted to certain professions: hairdressers, designers, nursing, flight attendants.

“Now, what can I do for you?” Bruce—his name was on his ID tag—asked, stooping in the aisle beside her. He had straight, dark hair that was brushed to one side, a sensitive, soft mouth and earnest eyes that seemed suspended between rows of long, dark eyelashes.
Stunning
, Vicky decided,
but business first
.

“Well,” said Vicky, peering deep into his eyes while opening her purse, “my great granddaughter is graduating from your airline’s stewardess school in
San Francisco
. She’s staying at a hotel”—she continued to fumble in her purse—“and I wondered if you could tell me if it’s very difficult to get there from the
airp
…oh, dear. I must have packed my spectacles in my suitcase.”

She withdrew from her bag the letter she’d typed on the airline’s stationery, without the envelope, and held it out to him. “Here,” she said, “you read it. There’s nothing all that personal in it and you can tell me about the hotel she’s staying at.”

“Certainly,” Bruce said, smiling as he unfolded the letter. Vicky watched the change of expressions on his face, his complexion flush and wane as he read:

Dear Grams,

I made it! I’m finally going to be a full-fledged stewardess on the 15th of April—and I owe it all to you. I wish I could convince you to take your first airline trip so you could come out and see me graduate.

You’d love flying. It’s exciting and wonderful! It’s like sitting in your comfortable chair at home while traveling at hundreds of miles an hour! I know you’d adore it!

You’re all I have left in the world now, Grams, since the accident took all the rest of our family, and I’d love for you to be here. After all, if it hadn’t been for your bravery I wouldn’t even be alive today, much less be looking forward to a career as a stewardess. I owe everything to you.

So, please think about it. I might even be able to get you a discount on your ticket. But if you can’t bring yourself to fly, I understand and I’ll be thinking about you every minute. We girls gotta stick together, you know.

Love and Kisses,

Jennie

P.S. I’ve moved into the
Beldon
Hotel for now. Call me when you can, but the address is on the envelope in case you want to write to me.

Bruce looked most perturbed as he refolded the letter, hesitant about looking up at her, as if he didn’t know quite what to say. “Won’t she be meeting you at the airport?” he asked.

“Oh, no,” Vicky said with a giggle. “She doesn’t even know I’m coming. I decided to surprise her. Won’t that be fun?”

Bruce nodded slowly. “Oh, yes,” he said. “You’re a first time flyer?”

“Yes, I am,” Vicky answered with flutter of excitement and pride. “And I must say—”

“Didn’t you mention that when you made your reservation?” Bruce asked.

“Why, no. I didn’t think to. Why? Does it matter? Don’t you allow—”

“We try to give special attention to first time flyers,’ Bruce explained with an apologetic tone.

Well, I’ll certainly remember that in the future
, Vicky thought, but said, “Why you darling young man. How sweet of you, but I simply couldn’t ask for more attention than you’ve given me already. In fact, I think I’ll write a letter to your company telling them how lovely you’ve been.” She glanced around the cabin. “It’s no wonder that your first class section is so full. The service is divine. It’s so clean and big inside.”

Bruce looked befuddled. “But this isn’t first class,” he said. “This is tourist.”

Time for a few tears: phase one
, Vicky thought, and allowed a glimmer to appear in her eyes. “I don’t understand,” she said pathetically. “I saved for months to buy a first class ticket because Jennie told me how nice it was. Doesn’t that mean I should sit in your first class section?”

“Why, yes it does,” Bruce replied, looking upset. “But…may I see your ticket?”