14
They were now living to be fashionable, happy and merry. —Persuasion
Johnny Love, looking dapper in an apple green top hat, waves to me from a cozy side table. He stands and crosses over to where I’m standing.
“Ah, April!” He gives me his customary two-cheek air kiss. I must admit he looks dashing in his plum-colored suit. “You look resplendent.” He waves at my dress. “Your dress is a masterpiece, a triumph! It’s better suited for the Met Gala than a birthday party.”
The compliment hits home. I am quite pleased with this dress. I reached out to my old costume designer for this piece of fashion.
“This happens to be a very special occasion. The twins and I are practically family.”
“Ah, yes! The Musgroves and the Elliots! And from what I’ve heard, it’s going to be the wedding of the year.”
“Thanks to you! You really saved the day with your generous offer.” After seeing Johnny’s Malibu Ranch, September and Carlos wholeheartedly decided on having the wedding there.
“I do what I can,” he says, trying to look humble but failing. “I’ve been so blessed I feel obliged to share with others.” A petty part of me wants to point out that helping the Musgrove and the Elliot families is hardly an act of charity. I’m certain Johnny wants something in return. I hope it’s not me.
“September’s thrilled with your yard. She says you have the most incredible ocean view.”
“You should come see it. You’re welcome anytime, night or day.” He’s making his intentions very clear. But still, these past two weeks, I’ve been keeping him at a distance. I’m skeptical about his interest, and I’m not sure why. I know I’m beautiful, no matter how much my father might criticize me. It’s just... why me? This town is full of attractive women.
“I will definitely drop by soon. I’m helping September as much as I can with this wedding.”
“Is it true that you and Freddy West will be singing a duet?” He gives me a significant look. Maybe he did witness our kiss.
“I cannot confirm or deny,” I say with a coy smile. The song is still a secret.
“Do you two have history?” How does Johnny see what everyone else misses?
“He’s best friends with my sister’s fiancé.”
“Do you know why I’m so good at my job?”
“Because you have conventional good looks and charming manners.”
He barks out a laugh. “You are far smarter than this town gives you credit. But no, those things are true. But also, I have a sixth sense for relationships. I see how Freddy West looks at you.” He has a meditative look. I do everything I can to hide the surge of joy fizzing through me. It probably means nothing. Johnny Love is full of hot air, but also, when Freddy watched me walk down the stairs tonight, it felt like maybe... maybe Johnny is onto something.
“September and Carlos believe he’s interested in one of the twins.”
Johnny glances at Freddy, currently with Rosie on one arm, walking toward his apartment. “Could be. A man might have many interests?” I don’t love this answer but must acknowledge its truth.
“I believe that’s the case for many men.”
“And women, too. I hear you’re dating Boris Benwick.”
Now, I’m truly surprised.
“We had coffee once. Where did you hear this?”
“As I said, April, I have my sources.”
“I wonder if there’s anything that happens in this city that you don’t know about.”
“Not much.” He looks smug. It’s not a flattering look.
“Some say we are dating,” I say.
“I’m well aware. Though you keep putting me off.” Johnny sounds a little offended.
“I’m sorry, I’ve been busy. And you were out of town. It has nothing to do with you.”
“Good to hear, are you free Saturday?”
I scramble. We’re going to the pier with the Musgroves and Freddy, the same outing Rosie referred to as her date with Freddy. I highly doubt Freddy considers it a date. But, it wouldn’t hurt for him to see that other men are interested in me.
“How do you feel about going to the Santa Monica Pier? Is that too public?”
“I love it. Classic. Touristy. I’m in.”
“Great!”
“It’s a date,” he says just as Gloria Musgrove joins us. She looks between Johnny and me with curious eyes. Gloria’s wearing an enormous hat laden with oversized silk flowers.
“April, can I have a minute?”
“Absolutely,” Johnny answers for me. He stands up. “I was just leaving to wish the twins a happy birthday. “I’ll see you Saturday.” He bends down and kisses me on the cheek. I must admit I do feel sort of a thrill at the touch of this handsome older man.
Mrs. Musgrove follows our interaction closely. Johnny then turns to her. “Gloria!” He gives her his typical “kiss, kiss” greeting. “You’ve outdone yourself with this party.”
“Thank you!” She adjusts her hat, which has gone a little askew with his kisses. “And the hat? It’s not too much?”
“I adore it!” he says with certainty. And I agree. Not everyone can pull off a hat that big and colorful, but somehow, Gloria Musgrove does it with aplomb.
When he leaves, she sits across from me.
“Well... ?” she says, stretching the word out to three syllables.
I feel myself blushing.
“Well, what?”
“You have an admirer,” she says in a sing-song voice.
“I don’t think he’s serious. Johnny Love is just flirtatious. Like Rosie.” Maybe I should regret mentioning Rosie. But Mrs. Musgrove breezes right past the comment.
“Johnny Love flirts, but he is not a flirt. In fact, he’s not a player at all. It’s been three years since his wife’s death, and he has lived like a monk.”
“How do you know?”
“His sister is one of my closest friends. Didn’t you know?”
I didn’t. I have one of those epiphanies I believe many kids have with their parents. That moment when you realize your mom or dad has a life beyond you. I never really had that with my mom. She died too young, and her life was all over the press and in my face anyway. And my dad, well, there was no escaping that he had a life before us. We were reminded daily of who he used to be. But Gloria also felt like my mom.
When I had my first period, and my mom was away at rehab, I turned to Gloria. She came over with a hot water bottle, Motrin, and a bag of chocolate. She told me the disheartening news that I could expect to feel this miserable once a month for many years to come. I had heard other older girls talking about having their period, and I had come to the reasonable conclusion that it was a onetime event. I cried in her arms for a good long time at the horrible revelation and the dreadful feeling that the rest of my life was going to be a long series of disappointments. Gloria was always my shoulder to cry on.
So, in the same way most kids think of their mom as an entity set on this earth simply to coddle them without any personal life of her own, I always thought of Gloria as existing to dry my tears and teach me to bake. I never spent much time thinking about her rich network of friends. An idea pops into my head: Gloria must be Johnny’s source. Or at least how he knew about me going out with Benwick.
“I didn’t know. I don’t think I knew he had a sister.”
“He does. And I shouldn’t say a word, but she says he’s quite taken with you. Even if you have been playing hard to get.”
I protest. “I’ve been busy.”
“I’m only teasing. I don’t think Johnny minds, much. He prefers to move slowly because of his son.”
I remember how his face changed when he showed me photos of Remington.
“That’s wise.”
“Isn’t it? He has much more depth than you’d expect. Like I said, it’s not every pretty girl in LA who turns his head.”
“Why me?”
“His sister has been singing your praises for years, and then he saw you by chance at Freddy West’s concert and decided to make his move. She’s told him how good you are with kids and how you single-handedly run your family.”
“Did she?” I feel myself blushing. “And I thought he was just after the next young thing.”
Right then, Mr. Musgrove sneaks up behind his wife; he leans over and kisses her cheek. She shrieks, and her hat falls to the ground, revealing her salt and pepper hat hair. Here’s what I love about Gloria: she’s the opposite of Hollywood Glamour. She is heavy set and doesn’t spend any time on hair or makeup, or clothes, for that matter. She’s so utterly comfortable in her own skin that my father, who is prone to criticize everyone, has nothing but praise for Gloria. Once, he stumbled across an unflattering picture of her. All he said was, “Gloria’s healthy good looks are tricky to capture on film.”
Though I would love for him to be so kind to me, it warms my heart to know he can be generous. And if my father owes anyone in this world, it’s Gloria Musgrove. She practically raised September and me. And my dad is well aware. She’s often the recipient of his profligate spending. Fortunately for me, Gloria has thoughtfully returned many of the designer handbags, scarves, and sunglasses my dad has purchased for her. She, of course, keeps one or two items to wear around him. And my dad takes great joy in complimenting her when she does so. Tonight, for instance, she’s wearing a ruby ladybug broach that he bought her.
“My favorite person,” Mr. Musgrove says as he gives his wife another kiss. Upon seeing me, he breaks into another smile. “Oh, April! We’re finally going to be related. I am thrilled.”
I can honestly answer. “Me too, I am over the moon!”
He hands a glass of champagne to his wife and another to me. “So much to celebrate.”
“April, it took me years to find the love of my life.” He gazes at Gloria. “I was almost 40, which was ancient in our day. But I would have married her if I met her at twenty, and I would have married her if we met at 60.” He takes a sip of champagne. “But I’m glad we didn’t meet at 60. Then we wouldn’t have these three amazing kids.”
Freddy, carrying his guitar, walks up with Rosie clinging to his arm.
“It’s time for cake,” she tells us. “Freddy’s going to sing ‘Happy Birthday.’ Right, Freddy?” Does he look uncomfortable? I think he looks uncomfortable. But is it because I’m looking at him or how Gloria is assessing him?
He untangles himself from Rosie’s arm. Then turns to me, “Rainy, are you coming?”
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
I join Freddy and Rosie and the rest of the group as we make our way to the multi-tier birthday cake that looks like a precarious stack of teacups with flowers spilling out and trailing down. Freddy plays a rousing rendition of “Happy Birthday” on his guitar. When he finishes, Rosie and Daisy blow out the candles. Everyone cheers. Daisy throws her arms around Flossman and kisses him. For a moment, Rosie looks lost, she seems to be searching the crowd for someone. Then, her attention is caught. A wild emotion crosses her face. She turns and throws her arms around Freddy’s neck and kisses him.