Chapter 4
Hollywood, California
It took longer than it should have to get to Bennett Studios the next morning. My parents were eager to be there by seven, their usual arrival time, but I was too distracted.
“What’s the matter with you today?” Vicky asked as we finally got into our Dodge Sedan to make the fifteen-minute drive from our house in the Westmoreland Place neighborhood to our studio on Sunset Boulevard. “You’ve been agitated all morning.”
It wasn’t easy being twenty-four and moving back home with my sister. If Little Women was the success we hoped, Vicky and I could move into our own apartments again.
Papa was already seated behind the wheel as Mama slipped into the passenger side and turned to look at us in the back seat.
She was a beautiful woman, always stylish and aware of Hollywood trends.
She’d even set a few herself over the years, though the lack of money had prevented her from adding to her wardrobe recently.
She looked pretty in a pleated skirt with a matching jacket.
Her graying blond hair was worn a little longer, but it was waved and glossy, and she looked beautiful.
“Is something wrong?” Mama asked me as Papa backed out of our driveway.
“I stayed awake in 1849 until I saw the sunrise, but there was no sign of fire—and Bess stayed in her bedroom all night. She didn’t leave with Cole.
” I had sat on the pallet next to Hazel as she slept for hours in the dark kitchen, waiting and watching, but nothing had happened.
All I’d heard was the ruckus from the nearby saloons and gambling halls.
Mama frowned. “Were you expecting a fire?”
“Yes, the one that Bess Kendal was supposed to die in.”
Papa put the car into drive and began moving up Westmoreland Place Road.
It was already hot, and I rolled down the window to let in a bit of fresh air.
Westmoreland Place had been a lovely neighborhood to grow up in, though the fashionable sect in Hollywood had moved toward Wilshire Boulevard and Beverly Hills.
Our house was spacious and comfortable, but it wasn’t glamorous or remarkable—just a Craftsman bungalow with ivy growing up the side and a large front lawn.
“She was supposed to die?” Mama frowned.
“I told you about it,” I said, a little impatient, though she had a lot on her mind and I couldn’t fault her for not remembering every detail I told her.
She lifted her shoulder and shook her head. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember.”
“It doesn’t matter.” I watched the passing houses, many resembling ours. “I don’t know what happened, but perhaps I got my information wrong.”
“I want to get right to work when we arrive at the studio.” Papa changed the subject, troubled with his own concerns. “We have so much to get done today. I hope you don’t have any other plans.”
“What plans would I have?” Vicky mumbled as she sighed and put her chin in her hand.
“I hope Grace doesn’t have trouble finding the studio.” Mama opened her purse and rummaged through it. “I’m excited to have her and the girls on set.”
In Mama’s other path in the 1600s, she gave birth to identical twin girls, Grace and Hope, who were also time-crossers.
They were born to a different time-crossing mother in 1888.
Hope stayed in the 1600s, but Grace chose to remain in the 1900s.
Now she lived in Washington, DC, with her husband, Brigadier General Lucas Voland.
Their two daughters, Lydia and Kathryn, were fifteen and fourteen.
Lydia dreamed of being an actress and had done several plays, one that we had attended last year.
When Papa decided to cast Little Women, he knew he wouldn’t have enough money to attract young, professional actresses, so he took a chance and asked if Lydia would come to California to be in her first film and play Amy March, Jo’s youngest sister.
They would arrive sometime today and stay with us until the filming ended.
The traffic was heavy at the intersection where Sunset and Hollywood Boulevards crossed.
Bennett Studios was on the corner and took up several city blocks.
The tan stucco buildings had been built over the course of the past twenty years as Papa increased the size of his productions and staff.
The largest of the buildings, Soundstage 1, was four stories tall and filled one entire block.
BENNETT STUDIOS was painted in bold white letters on the roof, but the paint had begun to fade and chip over the years.
The other buildings housed smaller stages, production offices, editing rooms, dressing rooms, costume and prop storage rooms, and the makeup and wardrobe department.
“I want everyone on stage by nine,” Papa said, pulling into his parking space next to the executive office building. “Not a minute later. I’m making a few last-minute changes to the script, and then I’ll meet you on Stage 1.”
Two automobiles were already in the lot—the overnight and daytime guards’. They usually drank a cup of coffee together before they changed shifts. Papa had let the others go, needing to cut costs.
We all mumbled our agreement as we got out of the Dodge.
Vicky and I hadn’t bothered to do our hair and makeup at home, since we’d be in costume for the day.
Mama had overseen the costumes for most of the productions over the years, though there had been others to help her in the busier times.
Now she only had the help of one seamstress who had been working for weeks on the simple Civil War–era dresses and suits we would wear.
Thankfully, we’d been able to borrow or rent most of the costumes, but they needed alterations.
“Let me know the moment Spencer arrives,” Papa called as he walked in one direction toward his office and we went in the other toward the makeup and wardrobe department.
Vicky stopped. “Spencer who?”
Mama shared a quick look with me. In all my worries about the fire, I’d almost forgotten about Spencer.
We hadn’t spoken about him since the agreement had been made last night.
It was important that everyone, even Vicky, believed mine and Spencer’s relationship was real.
So the less we spoke about it, the better.
“Spencer Hayes,” Mama said, trying to act nonchalant. “Mr. Mayer is loaning him to us for the movie.”
Vicky’s lips parted in disbelief.
Mama slipped her key into the lock and pulled the door open. It creaked on its hinges, and she sighed. “I’ll need to add this door to our repair list.”
Vicky wouldn’t easily be deterred. “How in the world will we afford him, and why would L. B. Mayer let his most famous actor play in our movie?”
It was a good question, and because I couldn’t tell her that I had agreed to date him, it would be hard to explain.
“L. B. and Papa have known each other for years.” Mama flipped on the lights, and we were greeted with half a dozen clothes racks filled with costumes.
Our characters’ names had been painted on plaques hung above each rack, so we knew where to find our costumes and where to return them.
Mirrors lined one wall with lights over each one and tables underneath.
“That doesn’t answer my question.” Vicky stood outside the door.
Mama took off her hat and set her purse on a hook. With a slight shrug, she said, “L. B. owed Papa a favor, and Papa called it in.”
I had never known Mama to lie, not once. And this wasn’t a complete lie, because L. B. would owe Papa a favor—or rather, me—if we convinced the world that Spencer Hayes had straightened up his act. But it still wasn’t the whole truth, and though Mama looked calm, I knew it bothered her.
My sister stood outside the wardrobe and makeup department, squinting in the sunshine as she studied Mama with skepticism.
“Mr. Factor will be here soon to work on your makeup.” Mama bustled around the room, setting down her bag. “We don’t have time to lallygag.”
Vicky’s questioning gaze slipped to mine, and I offered a quick, uncomfortable smile.
Thankfully, Vicky didn’t ask any other questions, and it wasn’t long before others began to arrive for the day.
Our oldest sister, Julia, entered with her daughter Annette.
Julia was in her late thirties and was a happy, busy housewife.
She had given up acting when she was only twenty to get married, and she had quickly filled her home with babies.
Annette was her oldest child at the age of seventeen and would play Beth March, the third sister and the quietest and meekest of them all.
Just like the rest of us, Annette had been in the movies since she was young.
I watched the clock, waiting for Spencer to step through the door. Papa had told him to arrive no later than eight, and it was dangerously close to that time now.
When the door opened, my breath caught in a funny way, but it wasn’t Spencer who walked through. It was one of the producers.
“There are a couple of people here to see you, Ally,” he said. “Can you meet them in the garden?”
Frowning, I exchanged glances with Mama, who had been pinning Annette’s hem.
“Who is it, Cal?” I asked.
“MGM’s press secretary and photographer. They want to be in place when Mr. Hayes arrives to capture a few candid photos.” He stressed the word because there were rarely candid photos of movie stars—unless they got into trouble, and then the more candid the better.
“Mr. Hayes?” Julia asked, helping Annette get ready. “As in, Spencer Hayes?”
The name caused a cascade of delight to ripple throughout the room as people turned to hear the news.
“Spencer Hayes will be playing Laurie,” Mama announced to everyone assembled. “It was decided last night.”
More excitement bubbled up, especially among the younger women.
“Go on,” Mama said to me. “We don’t want to hold up filming.”