They stayed at the Ritz, as she had before, which had been restored to civilian use after the war, after housing the officers of the German High Command during the Occupation. And as evidence of her collaboration with the Germans, Gabrielle Chanel had been its only civilian resident during the war.
Eleanor couldn’t resist a little shopping to check on Paris fashions, but they left the city quickly, with a young chasseur from the hotel they hired to help Alex, to begin their driving trip through the countryside to discover treasures to sell in San Francisco. They found them easily. Impoverished aristocrats were selling their ancestral homes, and their contents. The country was still badly scarred by the Occupation, and the advance of Allied troops across France during the Liberation. The stories they heard were tragic, of husbands sent to work camps never to return, their homes occupied by the Germans, the rape of women and young girls by German soldiers, and the deaths of sons and daughters in the Resistance. The people they met were strong and determined, but in dire need of money to survive. Some were still trying to save their homes, but selling everything in them, others were selling their chateaux with their contents. Again and again, Alex and Eleanor found beautiful antiques and purchased them for the low prices their owners were asking for them. They felt bad at times paying as little as the owners requested. Almost every chateau was up for sale, and many were badly damaged, or in serious disrepair. They went to a few country auctions and brocantes, which were like yard sales, and found treasures there.
What they found in England was similar, although the British were trying to hold on and rebuild their lost world, with considerable difficulty. Many were living in poverty and had sold their land to preserve their home. They were running enormous estates and castles with only a handful of people to help them. They were selling their possessions, but unwilling to relinquish a way of life that had existed for centuries and was foundering in the modern world. It tore at Alex’s and Eleanor’s heartstrings, reminded them of their own losses years before, and they were frequently invited to dinner by the people who were selling the contents of their homes. France had seemed more shell shocked after the Occupation, but England was just as poor. They had protected the country from invasion, but their old way of life was impossible to maintain. Life in the States seemed more secure, but the country hadn’t been invaded or occupied, and had greater resources to fall back on, and the post-war industrial boom was breathing new life into the economy and filling the nation’s coffers, and creating a whole class of the newly rich.
They found equally beautiful things in the castles in Ireland, and Eleanor had the thrill of seeing the Houghtons in Dublin. Wilson and Eleanor flew into each other’s arms like long-lost relatives, as Houghton smiled at them benignly with damp eyes. They had aged considerably since Eleanor had last seen them in 1930, but they were healthy and in their seventies now. They both said that they missed California and their life in the States, but had a small tidy cottage and a good life in Ireland. They were living on their careful savings, and hadn’t tried to find work since the war, and there was little to be had anyway. London was still severely damaged by the bombings, although Alex and Eleanor had seen construction going on everywhere. Britain was determined to recover.
By the time they got back to Cherbourg to board the ship again, they had filled three large trucks with priceless antiques to send back to San Francisco. In a month or so, their shop would be full of pieces to sell that were as beautiful as the antiques of the Deveraux, which they had been selling for two years. The trip had been a great success, although it had been poignant and humbling to see firsthand the suffering that Europe had experienced during the war.
It was a peaceful trip home on the familiar ship. The crossing was smooth. They were both tired after moving from place to place constantly for a month, examining the contents of castles in England and Ireland and chateaux in France. And for each piece they bought, they knew they would remember the stories that went with it, and the owners who had touched them with their courage and their losses. It had been a trip that they knew neither of them would ever forget. And Deveraux-Allen had a store full of new merchandise to sell.
* * *
—
When Alex and Eleanor got back to San Francisco, Camille looked to them as though she had grown a foot. She was six now, and she had learned new songs from Annie while they were gone. The child’s singing talent was undeniable, and she was as sunny and happy as she had been for all six years of her life so far. Eleanor had bought her some pretty little dresses in Paris, and a new doll, which she loved. And she told them solemnly that they were never to go away without her again.
They closed the shop in August for a month’s vacation at Lake Tahoe, and when they got home, everything they had bought in Europe had arrived. It took them and Tim Avery days to unpack it all, and place it advantageously in the shop. Their storeroom on the third floor was full again, and they had to send some of the larger pieces to the barn in Tahoe, until they sold some of the new pieces in the shop.
Their regular customers leapt on the beautiful new things they’d brought back, and the business continued to thrive.
They hardly saw the time passing for the next dozen years. They made several more successful buying trips to Europe. The economies had improved there, although more slowly than in the States. But Europe proved to be their best resource for antiques, as one by one the great estates disappeared, and noble families gave up their homes, and Americans bought them and their contents and had the money to do so.
Alex and Eleanor no longer traveled by ship for their buying trips, but flew to save time. They had taken Camille with them on two occasions, once she was in her teens, but she had complained and been bored the entire time. She had no interest in her parents’ business, and thought it was depressing the way they sold relics from the past, and lived on the remnants of past grandeur. Her previously easy nature changed when she was about fifteen. She hated the schools they put her in, ridiculed their traditions, and was rebellious at every opportunity. They wanted her to attend college, and she flatly refused to consider it and said she had no interest in anything they would teach there. They had a major showdown with her when Eleanor talked to her about making her debut at the San Francisco Cotillion Debutante Ball when she turned eighteen. The grand balls of the past no longer existed in 1958, few people could afford them, nor had the homes for them, but a joint ball, the cotillion, had been established where roughly twenty young ladies of good families with aristocratic lineage were invited to “come out” and be presented to society, as had been the tradition in the past. Camille was outraged by the very idea, and tore up the letter inviting her to be one of them when it arrived.
“That’s the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen,” she shouted at her mother. She was as beautiful as ever, tall and blond with blue eyes and a striking figure, but headstrong and difficult, and had been for the past three years. Her whole personality had changed, as both Alex and Eleanor struggled with her. She was due to graduate from high school in June, and was in her third school in four years. She was determined to be a rebel. Her teen years had been trying for Eleanor, although Alex had more patience with her, though not always better results. She was determined to reject everything they stood for, and thought they were dinosaurs left over from an antiquated world that was no longer relevant and was on its way out. She opposed everything that reeked of tradition, and making her debut was top of that list.
“There are no people of color at the cotillion, no Italians or Jews or anyone except people like you. Did you ever think of that?” she said with a look of disgust. And her father conceded that she had a point, but that might change one day, and he knew that although Camille’s motives in not making her debut sounded noble, mostly she just didn’t want to do what was expected of her, or anything that would please her parents. Her rejection of them was painful. She was in full rebellion, and her sweetness as
a young child had disappeared. They had expected her teenage years to be challenging, but Camille was extreme.
Eleanor had lovingly shown Camille her own debut dress, carefully packed away thirty years before, and Camille ridiculed it.
“I’d look like a freak in that, you probably did too,” she said disparagingly of the beautiful gown by the House of Worth that Eleanor had been thrilled to wear. “Everything you and Dad do is so old fashioned. It’s all so yesterday. You’re living in the past,” she said cruelly, which wasn’t true either. They respected the traditions they had grown up with, but had struggled to move forward despite the blows in their lives, which their daughter had no concept of, nor did she care. She thought they were fossils, who understood nothing of the modern world. “The cotillion is a cattle market, Mom, and I don’t want to be one of the cows. They’re all looking for husbands, which is why they go to college too, and the minute they get engaged, they drop out. Or they get pregnant, and have to get married. I don’t want to get married, and I’m not going to let you show me off at the cotillion and marry me off to some snob.”
“What do you want?” her father asked her shortly before her eighteenth birthday. She had refused to apply to college, her grades were terrible, she barely studied, and flatly turned down the opportunity to be a debutante in the coming winter season, even to please her parents. Camille did what she wanted. She had racy friends who weren’t going to college either, and a weakness for all the handsome bad boys around town. James Dean, as the original angry young man, had been her hero, and she mourned his death for months when she was fifteen, which had been a turning point toward a darker side.
They worried about her constantly, and had for several years. She exasperated Eleanor, and Alex was always seeking a compromise and trying to reason with her, which seldom worked. They were both afraid she’d fall in with bad company and come to a bad end. It had happened to others. And she clearly had no intention of following her parents’ path. She insisted that a new day had dawned and the old traditions meant nothing to her.
Camille was startled when her father asked her what she wanted. She insisted they had never asked her that before, and just tried to impose their wishes on her. Alex decided to try a new tack. She had threatened to run away several times, but never had. But he saw it as a possible outcome if they were too strict with her, and wanted to avoid that at all costs. She hated living over their store, no matter how elegant it was, or how profitable. She thought everything they sold was like old bones in a cemetery. It took all of Eleanor’s self-control not to take the bait of her insults and get drawn into arguments with her. Alex had stronger nerves. She was their only child and he didn’t want to lose her, neither did Eleanor, but she and Camille argued constantly, and were at odds.
“I want to sing,” Camille said simply. It had been her passion all her life. Her voice was untrained but as beautiful as it always had been. And she was a gorgeous young woman, and looked older than her years. “I want to sing with a band, and make albums with them.” It had been her dream since her early teens.
Several well-known bands had gotten their start in San Francisco, and Alex knew there were a number of small music producers in town, but he had no idea who they were.
“How would you make that happen?” he asked, curious about what she’d say, as her mother cringed. The kind of people she’d meet in show business seriously worried her, and would only make things worse. Alex wanted to negotiate a truce with her if he could.
“I know a couple of boys in bands. One of them said I could go to Vegas with them sometime and audition there.” Las Vegas was becoming a mecca of showgirls and musicians, but also Sodom and Gomorrah in their minds. A lot of the big stars from Hollywood went there, like Frank Sinatra and his crowd, and Eleanor didn’t want her falling into their hands. Prostitution was also rampant there, which drew a dangerous element for young girls. Alex didn’t like it any more than his wife did, but he thought that if they let Camille get a taste of the music world, she’d tire of it quickly and come home to settle down. Maybe not to be a debutante, they had given up on that, but to get an education, and a respectable job. They thought she should work, as they did, and wanted her to lead a wholesome life, anathema to Camille.
“I don’t think Las Vegas is a good idea,” he said quietly, “but maybe you can sing with a local band, and see where that leads.” She had a pretty voice, but he didn’t think she would wind up a big star, and she might get discouraged quickly. It was his fondest hope.
“Thank you, Dad,” she said, with an evil look at her mother, who understood nothing in her opinion, and she left the house shortly after to meet up with friends. None of the people she hung out with were interested in an education, they had big dreams that her parents thought weren’t likely to go anywhere, nor would Camille’s. What she really needed to do was stop dreaming of a career in show business, and grow up, but there was no sign of that yet.
“I think you’re making a huge mistake encouraging her,” Eleanor said unhappily, but she understood why he wanted to try.
“What choice do we have? Imagine if she runs away. She’s a stubborn girl.”
Eleanor didn’t know what else to say. They were at their wits’ end. Discipline didn’t work with her, cajoling, compromising, making deals, threatening her. Camille was determined to do what she wanted, and cared nothing for her parents’ wishes or concerns. In her mind, they were her enemies.
She managed to graduate from high school a few weeks later, by the skin of her teeth, tossed her diploma in the garbage immediately after the ceremony, and sang with a band she had known for a few weeks in a sleazy bar downtown, and a friend of the lead singer came by and heard her, and needed a girl to fill in in the chorus of his band. They were going to Vegas in a week’s time to open for a bigger band. It was the opportunity Camille had been waiting for, and the one her parents had dreaded. She told them the next day. They hated the idea, but she didn’t ask their permission. She told them what she was going to do, and the singer who had hired her for his band said they were going to make an album and were negotiating for a tour. If they kept her on, she’d be traveling around the country with them for three months if she was any good and they got the tour.
Eleanor felt sick thinking about it, but they reluctantly agreed. They told her they wanted to hear from her regularly, and reminded her that they hadn’t agreed to the tour, only to a brief stint in Las Vegas. She laughed at them. As far as she was concerned she was on her way. They were going to be cutting an album in Vegas while they were there, and she hoped to be on it. It was everything she had dreamed of for years.
She left two days later and drove to Las Vegas with the band. Alex and Eleanor had their hearts in their mouths when she left. The lead singer picked her up at the house. He was cocky and arrogant and good looking, in jeans, a T-shirt, and a black leather vest. He carried Camille’s bag to the car, and said nothing to her parents, as though they didn’t exist. Camille reluctantly hugged her parents before she got in the car, and thanked her father for letting her go. The singer, named Flash Storm, laughed when she said it.
“What are you? A baby? Your parents let you go? You’re eighteen, aren’t you?” She nodded, and looked like a child again to Alex and Eleanor, she was somewhat cowed by the leader of the band, who looked unsavory to them, with slicked down hair, and a cigarette behind his ear. “I hire women, not children. Remember that,” he said and got in the car. She slipped in beside him and they drove off, and as soon as they were out of sight, Eleanor burst into tears.
“He’ll ruin her,” she said, as Alex pulled her onto his lap in the wheelchair so he could hold her.
“We just have to hope she gets tired of it quickly,” he said, praying he had done the right thing.
Chapter 13
They hardly heard from Camille once she left for Las Vegas. She had called to tell them the phone number of the house w
here she was staying with the band, but when they tried to call her, no one ever answered. Eventually they spoke to a few of the band members, who lived at the house too, and they promised to give her the message, but it was several weeks before they heard from her, although she had promised to call them frequently. She said the band’s engagement at the nightclub where they were playing had been extended, and they were working on the album now. She told them she was fine, and didn’t mention the tour. They were relieved. All they could do was wait it out, and hope for news.
Camille came back to San Francisco in September. She just appeared one night, in tight blue jeans, a tight white satin top with a plunging neckline, looking sexy and infinitely more grown up than when she’d left. Eleanor noticed that she slurred some of her words and wondered if she was drunk. She stayed with them, in her old room.
She said they had been booked for a tour as the opening band for the group they were working with, and they were leaving in a week. She seemed suddenly more womanly, and not like a young girl anymore. Any semblance of innocence was gone. It was obvious from the way she referred to Flash that they were lovers now. Her parents were sick about it, and her mother asked her point-blank if she was on drugs. Camille laughed, and didn’t answer her. Eleanor was almost sure she was.
She slept most of the time, and was euphoric and rambling when she was awake. She talked about what a big star Flash was going to be, and he was going to take her all the way with him. She mentioned several big singers at the time, and said that Flash said they were going to be bigger than they were. She said he was hotter than Elvis Presley and more talented. She had a million dreams and illusions and was on a high. Flash had promised to make a single featuring her which would make her a star in her own right.
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