Chapter 5
On the way to pick up Lindsay, Julia hastily scribbled a few notes on an index card and tucked it into her sequined clutch
just as the limo pulled up in front of the young woman’s apartment. Lindsay must have been watching from the lone front window,
for she promptly stepped outside and descended the stairs carefully, holding on to the railing for balance. She was so strikingly
beautiful, even in a region packed with young, blond starlets, that Julia could only gaze at her admiringly as she approached,
graceful even in the uncharacteristically high heels.
“You look lovely,” Julia exclaimed when the driver opened the door and helped her inside.
That was an understatement. With her blond hair upswept to reveal her elegant neck and shoulders, Lindsay was absolutely radiant
in a vintage Christian Dior gown of rose silk with a draped bodice and full skirt. “Thanks. It’s the dress,” she said breathlessly
as she settled into the limo next to Julia, her eyes bright with nervous excitement. “I got it secondhand at Paper Bag Princess.
It cost me a month’s pay, but I’ll wear it again the next time I’m invited to a fabulous gala.”
“You might not be able to. The paparazzi and the press are going to think you’re a movie star. I wouldn’t be surprised if your photo is everywhere tomorrow.”
“Do you really think so?” For a moment Lindsay looked taken aback, but she quickly shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t
care how many people see me in this tonight. Girls from Minnesota don’t buy a couture gown, even secondhand, and wear it only
once.”
“This girl from Iowa does.”
Lindsay’s eyes went wide. “You’re from Iowa? Really? You?”
“Yes, originally, but don’t spread it around.” Julia gave her an appraising look as the driver pulled into traffic. “And it
isn’t just the dress, kid. You are beautiful. I wish your mother were here to see you.”
Lindsay thanked her with a smile. “Let’s make sure we get a picture together to send to her.”
That would be easily done. Donna might even see the photo in her hometown paper days before Lindsay could send her a print.
As a nominee, Julia was much in demand on the red carpet, and she took care to keep Lindsay in the frame nearly every time
the cameras clicked. Star Jones had replaced Joan and Melissa Rivers as the host of E!’s fashion coverage, and she proved
to be infinitely warmer and kinder than the snarky, acerbic mother-and-daughter duo ever had been. Julia was pleased to look
on like a fond auntie as Lindsay graciously posed for the photographers, turning this way and that as requested, responding
with poise and charm when reporters asked her who she was wearing.
“Have you ever considered stepping in front of the camera yourself?” Julia asked as they entered the Shrine Auditorium. The
lobby hummed with expectation as they made their way to the corner where the cohort from A Patchwork Life had arranged to meet before taking their seats. “You’re a natural.”
“Me? No, definitely not.” Lindsay paused to consider.
“I mean, I majored in theater in college, and I’ve been acting in plays since middle school, but I never really considered myself an actress.
I can’t really pretend to be anyone but who I am.
If I were going to be on camera professionally, it would be as a journalist.”
“Is that so? I had no idea. All this time, I’ve thought you were an aspiring director.”
“I am. I love working on A Patchwork Life. I’ve learned so much, and I’m so grateful to have had this experience. When I think about the films I want to make, though,
I’m drawn to documentaries. I don’t think I ever told you how much I admire your husband’s work. His biography of Frances
Perkins was so inspirational, but it was his documentary about the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire that made me want to become
a filmmaker.”
Julia felt her breath catch in her throat, flooded by memories of other awards ceremonies when she had walked the red carpet
on Charles’s arm, and had beamed and applauded from the audience as he thanked her from the podium after accepting an Oscar
or a Peabody. “You’re full of surprises tonight,” she said, smiling to hide a sudden pang of grief. “Most aspiring directors
your age cite Steven Spielberg as their inspiration, not Charles Bryson.”
Lindsay shrugged. “Steven Spielberg is pretty great too.”
Something about that struck Julia as so comical that she burst out laughing, and in that instant her overwhelming longing
for Charles transformed into joy. Even now his work was making a difference in the world by influencing young artists. If
only he were there so she could kiss him and tell him how proud she was.
Lindsay’s revelations weren’t the only surprises of the evening. The next was a fashion faux pas—mildly embarrassing, but
it would link Julia to one of Hollywood’s biggest stars, so at least some good publicity would come of it. After they met
up with their Patchwork colleagues, Lindsay went ahead into the theater with Noah and Ellen, while Julia lingered in the lobby with Olivia Munoz, who played Sadie’s perpetually jealous rival, and Nigel, who inexplicably had come alone, and was wittily evasive when she asked why Alistair had not accompanied him after all.
When they finally went to claim their seats, Julia stopped short at the top of the front orchestra section, momentarily confused by what at first glance appeared to be her mirror image.
A second glance revealed the vision to be Glenn Close, beautifully attired in an Oscar de la Renta gown a shade lighter than the Versace Julia wore, but except for that, and the small differences in the ruffle detailing down the center and the length of the train, it was virtually identical to her own.
Julia and Glenn both needed a moment to recover from their surprise, but after that, they had a good laugh and even posed for photos in the aisle, feigning, in turn, horror, outrage, indignation, before smiling with genuine amusement.
They did, however, avoid standing next to one another for the rest of the evening, and Julia made a mental note to avoid whatever snarky “who wore it better” reportage would likely appear in the media the next day.
Soon after the ceremony began, in an astonishing upset, Noah took the Emmy for Outstanding Supporting Actor in a Drama Series,
turning his first nomination into his first win. When Heather Locklear opened the envelope and read his name, the Patchwork cohort leapt to their feet in celebration, hugging Noah and one another and laughing for joy. At the podium Noah admitted
that he hadn’t expected to win so he hadn’t prepared a speech, and he expressed such humility and admiration for his fellow
nominees that Julia felt a surge of maternal pride. The audience roared with laughter when he closed by thanking the Academy,
holding his award aloft, and saying, “You better believe I’m going to mention this in my college applications.” The fresh
reminder of Noah’s intention to leave the show broke Julia’s composure, but she smiled and applauded and disguised her emotion
as blinking away tears of happiness.
About two hours later, Julia’s decision not to invest much time or effort in composing an acceptance speech turned out to
be justified. Her own loss as Outstanding Lead Actress wasn’t a surprise, but Jennifer Garner’s was. Instead it was Allison
Janney who claimed the Emmy, her fourth for her portrayal of press secretary C. J. Cregg in The West Wing. As Allison made her way to the stage, Julia applauded as loudly as everyone else, imagining the Cross-Country Quilters watching
at home and feeling utterly incredulous, indignant, and perhaps outraged on her behalf. “Ethel’s going to get free pie tomorrow,”
she murmured, smiling for the cameras.
“What did you say?” Lindsay asked, bending closer to be heard over the thunderous ovation.
Julia just smiled and shook her head.
Her chance at an individual Emmy had passed, but Julia still held out hope that A Patchwork Life would win for Outstanding Drama Series, even though The West Wing was highly favored to extend its four-year winning streak. As the night wore on, it occurred to Julia that the series most
likely to pull off an upset wouldn’t be her own. HBO was having a fantastic night, and had already claimed thirty-one Emmys
by the time their category came up, the last of the evening.
As Glenn Close emerged from the wings to announce the winner, Lindsay suddenly clutched Julia’s forearm. “Isn’t that your
dress?” she murmured close to Julia’s ear.
“No,” Julia murmured back, her gaze fixed on Glenn Close as she approached the podium with the fateful envelope in hand. “Hers
is a nude Oscar de la Renta. Mine is a champagne Versace. My train is longer and my shawl shorter.”
Lindsay nodded, her grip on Julia’s arm tightening as Glenn Close made her scripted remarks. Julia’s heart pounded and she
found herself holding her breath—only to let it out in a sigh a moment later when The Sopranos was declared the winner. She hadn’t expected A Patchwork Life to win, not after four losses in a row, but a cable network had never won for Outstanding Drama Series. HBO’s unprecedented
win had caught her—and a significant portion of the audience, from the sound of it—entirely by surprise despite the impressive
number of awards it had collected earlier that evening. But Julia quickly remembered to smile and applaud, and her heartbeat
soon subsided into its usual rhythm.
Later, at the network’s after-party, the first of several Julia intended to make an appearance at that night, she caught up with Ellen, who had been nominated for Outstanding Writing for a Drama Series but had lost to a writer from The Sopranos.
They commiserated amiably as they sipped themed wine spritzers, their own disappointment tempered by their happiness for
Noah.
“HBO won thirty-two Emmys tonight,” said Ellen, shaking her head in amazement.