Vicky Banning (23 page)

Vicky handed him the airline jacket. TOURIST was written in large, bold letters across the front, with the penned-in name of BENNING above it. She watched him remove the first class passenger copy of her BANNING ticket from inside.

“There seems to be some discrepancy, ma’am,” Bruce said. “Is your name
Benning
or Banning?”

“My name is Banning,” she said. “With an A. Vicky Banning. I can show you identification if you don’t believe me. Doesn’t it show that on the ticket?”

“Yes, ma’am, it does. But it also shows
Benning
, with an E, on the cover. Didn’t you notice that, or that you got a tourist class ticket jacket?”

Tears: phase two—they’re so effective—
Vicky decided and they rushed to accommodate. “I’m sorry,” she all but wailed. “But without my spectacles I can barely see your face, much less read anything. Does that mean that that awful woman is seated in my seat?”

“What woman?”

“Well, there was this dreadfully rude woman who rushed ahead of me in line when I was checking in at the airport. I remember that her name sounded something like mine…anyway, the poor gentleman behind the counter was so harried that he asked her to wait her turn. Then she got so angry that she grabbed her ticket back from in front of him—she’d practically thrown it at him in the first place—and stomped away. I mean, have you ever heard of such rudeness?”

“In
this
business?” Bruce replied, incredulously. “Oh, yes. Yes, indeed. Quite often, I’m afraid.” He rose from his crouch and held on to Vicky’s ticket jacket. “You just sit here for a few minutes while I check into this with the captain.”

A sweetheart from the word ‘go,’
Vicky commented silently as she watched him walk forward in the cabin and slip through the curtain leading to First Class.
A pluperfect jewel!

She was studying the wrinkles on the back of her hands with a look of total devastation when Bruce returned.

“Miss Banning?” he said.

She looked up at him, her face a study of helplessness.

“I think we have everything figured out now,” Bruce said. “Our passenger manifest shows that an L. Banning no-showed in First
Cla
—”

“But I didn’t,” Vicky cried. “I’m right here and I can prove it. I have—”

“Miss Banning, you don’t have to prove anything. It was our error, apparently. We show that BENNING is on board in tourist and BANNING no-showed First Class. The names got reversed, that’s all. That other woman must have grabbed your First Class ticket by mistake. We’ll have to make the correction when she—whoever she is—shows up with a BANNING ticket. Understand?”

Vicky had been listening to him open-mouthed. “Not a word,” she said, looking awed.

Bruce laughed. “It means that we have a seat for you in the First Class cabin. May I carry your things up front for you?”

Vicky smiled brilliantly. “You really are a darling,” she said with the utmost timidity. “Oh…may I have my passenger copy back again? I’d like to save it as a souvenir of my first airplane ride.”

“Of course you may,” Bruce said, looking very much the embarrassed hero as he handed her the copy.

“Thank you, dear,” Vicky gushed. She’d also need it when she applied for a refund of her unused First Class ticket.

Bruce escorted Vicky forward to the First Class cabin, and offered her a wide, plush seat by the window, whose twin on the aisle was also vacant. “I hope you enjoy your flight,” he said, after stowing her bag under her seat. “And that you’ll forgive the mix-up.”

“I’ll just pretend it never happened,” she said prettily as he walked off. She settled back into her seat, exhausted.
There must be an easier way, short of paying full price for a First Class ticket, of course.
She glanced at her watch. Marvelous! It had taken only thirty-five minutes between the time Bruce had first spoken to her and when she was settled into her First Class seat—a new record!

A pretty young woman with flashing red hair came to stand in the aisle to Vicky’s left. Her name was Connie, according to her ID tag. “Would you care to see a menu now, madam?” she asked, offering her one.

“Yes, thank you,” Vicky replied She was scanning it, trying to decide between the filet mignon and the
coq au
vin
,
as Connie strolled forward and hardly noticed when she returned. She should order the filet, since she was forbidden rich sauces, but…

“Would you care for champagne?” Connie asked, with a smile so gleaming that Vicky was reminded of a television commercial.

“How lovely,” Vicky said. “Oh, dear me, yes, I do believe I will. Thank you.”

Connie placed a champagne glass on the tray before her and poured from a bottle labeled
Dom
Perignon
.

Vicky took a sip. “Delightful,” she decided.
Delightful indeed. It’s remarkable how much better everything tastes when it’s free.
“And I’ll have the
coq au van.”

When she was left alone to enjoy the flight, Vicky removed her trusty pad from her purse and began to peruse her list of things-to-do, just to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything. Particularly those things she’d asked
Doris
to handle for her after she’d left. The envelopes she’d left in her room laid out all the details and held the checks to cover the costs: A good-sized tip for the waitress at Ye
Olde
Tea Shoppe (Vicky felt guilty about having been a tad rough on her); and payment for the
Hummel
(and the pens she’d slipped into her pocket).

A large check was to be delivered to the St. Sebastian’s high school district to pay for sports equipment for boys’ and girls’ teams of their own choosing. That would also give full-time employment to Jock, the gym teacher who intimidated the residents of the Sanctuary. That would keep him out of the Sanctuary’s hair and would help with his wife’s medical bills as well.

The instructions included with the check stated that all the equipment was to be purchased from the sporting goods store from which Vicky had purchased her white roller skates early in her visit.

Another large check would be paid to the Villa
d’Este
to cater next year’s Vegas Night, or whatever fundraising event the Sanctuary chose to host. La
Contessa
dei
Strioni
was to be shown as the gracious benefactor.

Finally, payment for a lifelong dog food order was to be paid to the pet store that had supplied the young boy’s puppy, oh so many months ago.

All was accomplished. As Vicky read through the list she smiled with the memories of each venture, a little sad, a little happy, and a lot in love. She’d ensured that what she’d given to the needy was continued and, perhaps more important, no one was to have lost out because of her antics.

Connie poured her another glass of champagne and started forward along the aisle. “Oh, Connie,” Vicky called and beckoned with an upraised hand. “Would you be so kind as to be sure to let me know when we’re an hour out of
San Francisco
?” She had to change out of the horrendous outfit she was wearing. She’d be mortified if anyone she knew saw her dressed that way—especially Keith, although God knows he’d seen her in a great variety of costumes. Mostly glamorous, though. Dressed the way she was now, he’d think she’d gone senile.

“And one more thing, dear,” she continued to Connie. “When you have a free moment, would you please bring me some of your lovely airline stationery?”

“Ms. Banning?” Bruce called, his head cocked uncertainly.

“Yes, Bruce?” she answered, smiling up at him.

He stared at her for a moment. The flight had just landed and Vicky was unbuckling her seat belt. She’d changed into a trim, lemon-colored pants suit, fluffed her hair and reapplied her makeup properly. Her coat, of dark chocolate cashmere, lay across her lap.

“I…uh, just realized that I forgot to tell you how to get to the Hotel
Beldon
. Just take the bus to the town terminal, then get a taxi to the hotel. It’s just a few blocks away. Or,”—he studied Vicky’s new outfit—“you might just want to take a taxi the whole way.”

“Thank you for remembering, Bruce,” Vicky said. “I’ll decide when I claim my baggage.”

Bruce smiled curiously before heading forward to the exit at the front of first class.

Vicky left the aircraft and followed the long corridors to the arrivals lounge. She scanned the bustling crowds of people who were waiting for disembarking passengers, searching for Keith.

“Mom!” she heard and her heart beat faster with excitement. She picked out her son’s smiling face from among the throng.

She dropped her case as Keith rushed up to her, wrapping her arms around his neck as he encircled her waist with a mighty hug and lifted her off the floor. He kissed both her cheeks with great fervor and lowered her to the ground.

Vicky smiled up at him through her tears, a smile so broad that her cheeks ached, happiness infusing her entire being. There was more silver than black in his hair now, set off brilliantly by his gray sharkskin suit. The green of his eyes was somewhat diminished by his silver rimmed eyeglasses, but his dimpled chin—Gerald’s contribution—was as sharp and firm as ever.

“Get into first class again?” Keith asked in his deep, gentle voice. “Never mind, I don’t want to know.” He picked up her case and began leading her toward the baggage claim area.

Vicky took his arm and smiled with delicate primness. “It’s the only way to travel. How are Karen and the girls?” She avoided getting right to the point, saving it for later when they could talk in comfort.

“Everyone’s fine, Mom. And everyone’s been looking forward to seeing you.”

Keith collected her luggage and had her wait by the curb while he drove his maroon Mercedes around. The day was overcast, but the clouds were high, like a false ceiling, filtering the light without stemming the brightness—although nothing could have dimmed the brilliance of the day for Vicky.

“Did my shipment arrive?” Vicky asked as Keith edged slowly into the airport traffic. “And your ‘brothers,’ are any of them here yet?”

“Your bags were delivered to your suite yesterday,” Keith said to Vicky, beginning to tick off a mental list of chores he’d formed in his mind. “Karl and Teddy arrived last night; Dieter and Gino this morning.
Pierre
should be getting to the hotel about now; he decided to drive up from
L.A.
with his family. And David will be here some time this evening. He’s flying in from Tel Aviv, making a connection in
New York
.”

“You’re remarkable,” Vicky said, hugging his arm and laying her head on his shoulder. “I don’t know how you manage all those things. I’m such a
ninny
when it comes to details.”

Keith roared with laughter. “Don’t…” he said. “Don’t make me laugh or I’ll drive off the road. You’re about as much of a
ninny
about details as
Univac
!”

“Well, maybe,” Vicky conceded. “But I follow a script. How do you do it?”

“Crib sheets inside my eyelids,” he answered “I cheat.”

“
Oh!
” Vicky exclaimed. “I’m shocked! Does Karen know?”

Keith let out a big sigh. “I should never try to compete with you, I’m way too outclassed.”

“Well, as long as you know.” She was silent for a while, staring through the side window as they rode, watching the roller-coaster hills of
San Francisco
rise and fall beyond the glass. “I was just thinking,” she said softly, “about last year. How your brothers have changed. When they came to this country all of you looked pretty much alike…even Karl, after we dyed his hair black to match your picture. Now, you’re all so different: heights, some balding, some gray…and Teddy’s round enough to make any two of you, God bless him, and cute as a button. Our successful New Yorker is going to pot.”

“Speaking of ‘pot,’” Keith said, “I saw that article in
Time Magazine
about the drug bust in
Pennsylvania
, but there was no mention of you or a photo. What happened?”

“Oh, didn’t I tell you? You’d be proud of me. Your dear old mother decided to be practical for a change. I realized that if I’d been identified by name and picture that I’d be much too easy to locate—in case the drug dealers wanted revenge. So I told the papers and authorities to pretend I didn’t exist. Can you imagine, me turning down publicity? I must be getting on in years—and I don’t want to hear a word of agreement from you!”

* * * *

“Ms. Banning! What an absolute pleasure it is to see you again!” the hotel manager gushed as he scurried across the lobby to greet her. His hands led the way and clasped at hers as if to enfold a sacred icon. “We have everything in readiness for your arrival: the entire suite-floor for your boys and their families, plus the Royal Suite for your pleasure, of course. Your special limousine with chauffeur is all arranged, and our private dining room is reserved for every night this week.” His eyes were wide and glittery, his hands trembling with excitement and pleasure.

“How…nice!” Vicky said in her best Bette Davis dismissive manner. She saw the glitter begin to quickly dull, his tweaked mustache to wilt, and she laughed. “I’m only joking, Peter,” she said and kissed him on the cheek. “I’m very pleased with your arrangements and, of course, with you. You sweet darling man, you’re just too, too perfect for words, as always.”

Peter’s face became so flushed with joy that tears threatened to overflow his eyelids. As he bowed to kiss her hand, Vicky noticed that his hairline had receded farther to the rear, as it had each year that she’d had her family join her at the hotel. Time itself was wearing away his hairline, advancing on his scalp almost unnoticed. Peter stood again, his stiff black suit and boutonniere so formal beneath the round, glowing face. He bowed Vicky and Keith toward the elevator.

“Thank you, Peter,” Vicky said. “We can find our way to the rooms from here. Let me say that you are the reason I return to the Sheldrake every year. Few are the men who can provide the chivalrous grandeur of the grand old hotels. The new ones are mere plastic in comparison to the Sheldrake’s
Carrara
marble.”

She was thankful that the elevator door closed just then. Peter looked as if he were ready to crumble into tiny shards of weeping gratitude. She faced forward, pretending not to notice Keith’s look of incredulity, or the strange stares she was receiving from the elevator man and the other passengers.

“You’re rotten,” Keith muttered through a snort of laughter out of the corner of his mouth.

“Why, my dear Keith,” Vicky said with startling loudness. “Whatever do you mean?”

Keith glanced at the elevator man and lowered his voice even more. “You do that to that poor man every year,” he said. “You reduce him to a blubbering idiot. One of these days he’s going to crack.”

“Not to worry,” Vicky said, opening her purse for him to see. “I always make sure I have a hankie handy when I begin my little head-patting.” She took a white cloth from her bag and shook it before her. It unfolded to the size of a small tablecloth—which it was—from the airline’s first class service.

Keith grappled for it and tried to stuff it back into her purse, but he was too slow. The purse snapped shut.

“Good work should be acknowledged,” Vicky added, oblivious to Keith’s struggling to hide the “hankie” inside his jacket, “and how better to ensure continued excellent service.” She noticed that although the other passengers had edged to the far wall of the elevator, they were now nodding in agreement.

The elevator stopped at the penthouse floor. “As soon as we check things out,” Vicky said to Keith as they stepped onto the lush carpet, “we must get right over to
I.
Magnin’s
before it closes. I’ve decided to make the shopping simple this year. All the adults will get gold chain-link bracelets, so we can get that out of the way first. The engraving can be done later. Then, we can go mad in the toy department.”

“I can’t wait,” Keith said with a great lack of enthusiasm. “Please, mom, do me a favor? This year will you please not go near the electric hobby horses? Please?”

“Of course not!” Vicky said with exaggerated dignity. “Those are for children…I want to try out the
Star Wars Space Cruisers
.”

As Keith put the key to the suite into the lock, Vicky placed her hand on his, restraining him. He waited as she stood, silent, staring at the door, yet seeing into the room beyond it as if the door had no substance. It had been many years since the Royal Suite had seen royalty, she knew, if ever, but it meant more to her than any residence in which she’d ever lived, no matter how grand. Even more, perhaps, than her home in
Newport
, which she’d sold so long ago after her parents died, rather than let it dissipate from lack of use. Beauty left to lie dormant, unloved and unappreciated, begins to fade from neglect. She couldn’t bear that, even if she were not around to see it happen.

Keith turned the key and Vicky stepped across the threshold onto the beige carpet of the suite’s foyer. The room beyond opened to her like a familiar stage setting of a beloved play, warm and beckoning, awaiting its cast to infuse it with life. It had remained unchanged, familiar, welcoming. Vicky was home, truly home, if only for one month.

She crossed the room between the blue brocade sofas to the wide span of windows facing north. The
Golden Gate
Bridge
stretched across the bay like a red-orange web to her left, and the orphaned speck of
Alcatraz
sat, lonely and discarded, far below.

“You know, your father and I stayed in these rooms before you were born,” Vicky said, turning to Keith. “On our first round-the-world cruise.”

Keith smiled with affection.

Vicky laughed. “I guess I tell you that every year, don’t I?”

Keith nodded, his eyes softening as his smile grew. “I’ve come to look forward to it,” he said.

“Well,” Vicky said, taking a deep, tremulous breath. “Let’s get the shopping out of the way. I’m pooped after that long ride…and I must be refreshed, beautiful, and scintillating tomorrow morning. Oh, God, Keith, will I be able to bear up again?”

There was a long pause. “When are you going to think about staying put, Mom? We’d all love it. It’s been…”

“Not all, darling. Not all. You know that. I know how long it has been,” she said wearily. “Oh, how I know. Don’t you realize that it seems ever so much longer for me?” She found her voice beginning to rise and shook her head to bring her emotions under control. Then nodded and looked up at him. “It will be soon now, I think. I’ll have to see how things are this year. We’ll talk about it later in the week. Meanwhile, I think I’ll hold off seeing the boys…everyone, until tomorrow. You don’t think they’ll mind, do you?”

“Of course they’ll mind,” Keith said. “And they’ll be disappointed, but they’ll understand. I’ll explain as best I can.”

“They’d better understand,” Vicky said with a forced grin. “Or I’ll report them to the Immigration Bureau as being wetbacks.”

Vicky had dinner in her suite that night, alone. Later, she sat before the wide window allowing the softness of the sofa to caress her, growing mellow in the candle-lit room, watching the lights on the
Golden Gate
. They brought memories of footlights in the thousands of theatres in which she and Gerald had played together: the fun they’d had, the laughs, the triumphs, the love…She could barely remain still and knew she’d have difficulty sleeping. But they’d agreed. Catch a breath and settle into a calm state before…

* * * *

Emerald-dot earrings to deepen the color of her eyes and a floor-length dress of forest green lace might be a bit formal for morning, Vicky knew, but she certainly wasn’t going to greet her family after a year wearing a house dress.

The breakfast cart had been removed from the dining area when she re-entered the parlor from the east bedroom, and fresh white candles stood tall in the candelabra on the table. The round clock, supported by twin gilt mermaids on the rosewood
secrétaire
, showed that it was nearing
ten o’clock
, time for the boys’ arrival.

Vicky paced constantly, unable to sit still, her heart palpitating as she flitted about the room checking that all was in order: ashtrays clean, pillows fluffed on the chairs, and gifts neatly pyramided in a corner. She needn’t have bothered, of course, the hotel staff had taken care of everything. With nothing to occupy her time, she sat on one of the sofas and stroked the framed photograph of two clowns that stood on the table before her, the photo that traveled everywhere with her. Her thoughts reached back through time—they were holding hands, bowing…smiling.