by Jack Waddell
They were there. Bridie in her swimsuit, sunglasses and wide brimmed hat was reclined on a chaise lounge reading a book looking the very image of a movie star. Mitch was standing in the shallow end of the pool holding Aimee in the water and showing her how to doggy paddle. Conor smiled as he watched little Tommy's antics, jumping in the pool, splashing about, then climbing out to repeat the process, a non-stop Whirling Dervish of energy. Conor lit a cigarette to go with his drink and leaned forward and put his elbows on the railing as he took in the scene. He thought back over the past several months and how well it all had gone. The advisory committee meetings were just about as deadly dull and pointless as he'd feared. But working with Bridie on the fundraiser had been wonderful. She was bright and quick and engaging. When he got beyond how much she looked like her mother he began to notice little things that delighted and touched him. When she talked she often gestured with fluttering hands much like his mother had done. When responding to a question she would sometimes blink both eyes at once, something his oldest sister had done. But it was her charming way that most pleased him as he hoped that had been a bit of his own legacy. At a number of their meetings she had brought along the two children. They were so different in personality they were a perfect complement to each other. Tommy was outgoing and spontaneous, Aimee reserved and cautious. Both warmed to Conor much to his happiness. His relationship with them never rose to the level of an uncle, much less a grandfather. But he did become a close family friend and that was all he'd ever hoped for.
The fundraiser had been a grand success. They held it in April at Billy Compton's ranch. It turned out Billy knew Reagan fairly well from their mutual interest in horses and the proximity of their two spreads. Reagan had been Reagan and charmed the crowd with his self-effacing humor and what Conor considered a common sense approach to the problems facing the state. Conor had an opportunity to chat for some time with Nancy Reagan and thought her a perfect match for her husband. He sensed a steely resolve that would help her keep him focused. Tommy and Aimee had the time of their lives. With their parents working the crowd, Conor seized the time to shepherd the children around the ranch and show them the horses and chickens and dogs. He got them pony rides and indulged them in too much ice cream. He treasured every moment.
Since then Conor's time with the family had been confined mostly to encounters with them at Biarritz. He'd played golf with Mitch and Bridie one Saturday afternoon. He'd had a wonderful time of it, showing off a bit for them by breaking eighty. He was happy to see too that Bridie was an athlete, although not the golfer her mother had been. Mitch's game looked exactly like that of someone who spent the vast majority of his time as a lawyer, politician, husband and father. Conor thought that a good thing. It had been a most pleasant time. He hoped they could repeat the experience sometime soon.
Conor took the last sip of his drink and put out his cigarette in the ice remaining in the cup. He would head down to the pool to have a chat.
* * *
Annie shouldered her way through the apartment door her hands and arms full of shopping bags with the doorman in tow similarly burdened as all the while Dylan barked and ran around her feet in greeting. She made it to the sofa in the middle of the room before dropping everything over the back and onto the cushions it in a jumble. She turned to the doorman and said, "Mario, come in, come in. Don't let the dog out. Just leave everything on the floor there. That'll be good enough." Mario did as he was bid then stood in the open doorway. "Thank you so much for helping. Just hold on a second." She leaned across the back of the sofa and rooted through the bags as Dylan helped by nosing his way through the pile. She finally found her purse. She opened it and retrieved her wallet and took out a dollar bill. "Here you are," she said smiling as she offered him his tip. "Thank you so much. I don't think I could have gotten it all up here without you."
"My pleasure, Mrs. Hyde," Mario smiled back taking the bill from her. "Anytime you need anything you just let me know." He touched the bill of his cap in salute and backed out of the doorway to leave.
"I will, and thank you again," she said as she moved to close the door behind him while Dylan barked his own good riddance. She turned back and looked into the room surveying the damage. It had been some time since she'd spent any time in California and with the summer approaching she needed to update her wardrobe. She would be gone for just over three weeks and would start in Los Angeles then move on to Dallas, Denver, Kansas City, Chicago, Detroit, Atlanta and Pittsburgh before returning home. They'd all be warm this time of year. She'd been on book signing tours before but this one promised to be a real odyssey.
A.C. Harrington's latest book was titled Chelsea Goodbye and was a transatlantic love story that had been rushed into print to take advantage of the so-called British Invasion of rock and roll bands that had grown into a major fad in the past year. Annie had protested that the story had nothing to do with pop music or any music at all, much less the antics of a bunch of rock and roll bands. But her publisher had argued back that if it sounded British it would sell. And so it was that her fourth book was set to launch with the ink hardly dry on the pages.
She began sorting through the packages. She decided New York was too wonderful a place to shop even on a Sunday with the limited hours. If it was new and trendy, it was there for sale. She'd managed to find one of the new G.I. Joe dolls for Tommy at F.A.O. Schwarz along with the very newest version of Barbie for Aimee. Saks Fifth Avenue had supplied most of her daywear while she'd picked up a couple of cocktail dresses at Lord & Taylor. Bridie was always hard to shop for so she had settled on a pair of simple gold earrings at Macy's. They would be easy to pack.
She began moving the items into the bedroom. The apartment was spacious for its kind but it had nowhere the closet space of the suburban Westchester house she had left. She resolved to weed out some of her older clothes and give them to the Salvation Army. But that would be a chore for another day. She sorted her purchases, folding those that would need to be ironed and hanging those that didn't. She came across the golf outfit she'd bought at Saks. She would only have time for one round on her trip and she'd thought the purchase a bit extravagant given she had a number of such outfits in her closet. Still, she did so want to play and buying the clothes seemed to speak to the anticipation. There hadn't been much golf since she and Nigel had moved to Manhattan and she did miss it. And there also was the matter of her staying with Bridie and Mitchell. An afternoon away from the house would be a good thing.
She loved her daughter greatly but there had always been a distance between them. Annie could never quite put her finger on why that was so. Were they too much alike? Was it a repetition of her own relationship with her mother? Had Louise been the better mother figure? Or had the lie of her birth created some sort of unseen, unspoken chasm that prevented any closeness? She just didn't know.
As much as touring the country Annie was looking forward to the round of golf in California. She had written her first novel in an attempt at some sort of catharsis. The thought of Conor had haunted her, stalked her. And the book had helped her let go some. But now she intended to exorcise more demons. This trip was the perfect opportunity.
She had been insistent on her initial itinerary. She was flying out to Los Angeles on TWA early Friday morning. There would be a layover in St. Louis and then it would be on to her scheduled arrival at Los Angeles International late that afternoon. She would spend Saturday at a signing at a bookstore in downtown Los Angeles followed by press interviews and then have dinner with her daughter's family. She would rest up Sunday morning while they went to church and then she would play her round of golf in the afternoon. She would fly out to Dallas Monday morning. Nigel was busy on a project with a deadline and would not be able to catch up with her until she got to Atlanta. By then, she reasoned, she'd be ready for the help and the company. She regretted not taking at least one leg of the trip by train but she recognized there was no time and, besides, she thought, the days of travel by rail we
re probably over.
She shooed Dylan from the bed and began to sort the clothes for packing later in the week. As she did so she began to realize how many yellow things she'd bought.
* * *
Conor sat on the edge of a chaise opposite Bridie as they chatted about the children and how much she and Mitch had enjoyed a recent trip with them to Disneyland. Conor told her how he had taken Sylvia there shortly after it opened and how they had found it nothing short of a miracle of modern technology and ingenuity. Nearly a decade later it must surely be something he offered.
Mitchell and Aimee emerged from the pool and joined them at the chairs. Bridie pulled her legs up to give Mitch room at the end of the chaise to sit as he toweled off Aimee. "So what have you two been talking about?" he asked.
"Oh, just the trip to Disneyland," Bridie answered. "Connie here was there right after it opened."
"Really? That's quite a place isn't it?" Mitch said. "So it looks like you played golf today. How'd you do?"
"Let's just say I had fun. Took a couple of bucks from my buddies so it wasn't a total loss. But a pretty day it was. Enjoyed it."
"I hope the weather holds like this next weekend," Bridie said. "My mother is coming out for a visit and we've got a church picnic Sunday afternoon."
Conor worked hard not to change his expression. Mitchell gave him a glance then looked back to Aimee and wrapped the towel around her shoulders. Mitchell tried to change the subject. "We've got another committee meeting coming up in a couple of weeks. You're good to attend, right?" he asked.
Conor seemed not to hear the question for an instant and then turned to look at Mitchell. "Yes, yes, I'm sure it's on my calendar." Then he looked back at Bridie. "So your mother's coming out? Does she visit often?"
"No, not often at all. So this should be fun. She's starting a tour for her latest book here in L.A. She'll only be here a couple of days before she heads off somewhere else. But at least she'll have a little time with the children. They're excited to see her."
Mitchell considered his next comment carefully before speaking. "She's planning on playing golf here at Biarritz next Sunday afternoon. Going to play with my mother. She really seems eager to see the place again. We can't play with her because of the picnic, but I'm sure she'll have a good time with my mom."
"Maybe we could arrange for you to meet her if you're going to be out here that day. It's possible you know each other from back then. You once said you were around Biarritz when she was, didn't you?" Bridie asked.
"I did and I was. But that was a long time ago and it's hard to remember what happened last week much less back then. But I'm not going to be here. I've got other plans that day."
"Oh, that's too bad. It would have been interesting to see if you two knew each other. Perhaps there'll be another time."
"Yes, perhaps another time." Conor said having increasing difficulty holding the conversation as his mind weighed the news. "Well, I guess I'll be going now. Heading out to Billy's place for a Sunday dinner," he said standing up. "You all take care now."
"Good to see you as always," Bridie said. "You take care yourself."
Conor gave a wave then turned and walked toward the gate. Mitchell called after him once he was halfway there. "Connie, wait up a second." Mitchell got up from the chair and hurried up to him. With his back to Bridie he said quietly, "Listen, I'm sorry the conversation got around to her mother. That was awkward. But you probably needed to know."
"I did. And it wasn't a problem. Things like this are bound to happen given the situation. Don't worry about it."
"Okay, thanks. We'll see you then."
"Right, we'll see you.”
Conor continued on his way and Mitchell returned to the chaise.
"What was that about?" Bridie asked.
"Oh, nothing… just remembered something I wanted to tell him about the committee meeting."
"Oh. Well, it's a shame he can't be here next week to meet my mother. They'd probably hit it off. I can tell."
"Yes, they probably would. They probably would."
(back to top)
Chapter 39
Remembrances
Sunday, June 19, 1965
Annie thought the drive up from Costa Mesa was like something out of a Twilight Zone episode. First there was the long ride on the 405 where she rocketed along like some space traveler through a completely alien landscape, a different world, with clusters of tall buildings of glass and steel hop scotched along the way all looking alike, all looking somewhat eerie in the blurry yellow smog. Then, after she picked up Mitchell's mother Blanche in Encino, there was the drive through quiet tree-lined streets she thought she could almost recall from another life. But maybe not. It was all quite surreal she supposed.
It became even stranger when she turned down La Habra Street and approached the entrance to Biarritz Country Club. Nothing had changed, except everything had. The same trees and hedges were there but they were larger. The same houses were there but of a different color. A gate still guarded the entrance but there was no gatekeeper. She stopped at the call box beside the gate, pressed the button on it and announced herself through the car window. The gate rose and she drove through and on to the bag drop where the attendant took their bags from the trunk and leaned them on the rack.
Blanche had been chatting at her the entire ride. Annie had managed to respond appropriately even as her mind took in and pondered all that she saw and felt. It helped Blanche was a talker. She liked Blanche. They hadn't met until the wedding but they had immediately gotten along. Always a bit reserved, Annie seemed to gravitate to people who weren't.
As the two walked to the clubhouse from the car, Annie began to feel uncomfortable. Biarritz still exuded the same overstated aura of wealth and grandeur and privilege it had all those years ago when she thought she would live that life. And then she hadn't. She'd become comfortable in the more modest existence she'd created over the years, learning to appreciate the joy of smaller, simpler pleasures. Now Biarritz seemed to loom too large in its pretentiousness.
As they entered the locker room the attendant directed them to a vacant locker. Annie could see the room had been refurbished recently but it was still in the same style as its original décor. They changed shoes and complimented each other on their outfits; Blanche in a simple white blouse and pink skirt, Annie in a powder blue knit polo and yellow skirt. Annie loved the shoes she'd brought; white oxfords with baby blue kilties.
They made their way down to the pro shop. Fred, the starter, was long gone but his little kiosk was still there. They checked in and were directed to the golf cart with their bags already loaded on the back. They assured the starter they had both played the course before, so it didn't matter who drove and the placement of the bags on the cart would be just fine. Blanche would drive. The starter told them their forecaddie would be waiting for them at the first tee. Annie noticed the grape stake fence around the caddie yard had been replaced with a chain link fence woven with green plastic slats. The caddies still needed their privacy. They got in the cart and drove up to the practice green to stroke some putts before the round.
Annie looked up after hitting a few putts and took in the view of the course. Once again things were familiar but definitely different. The trees had grown taller and fuller and now cast longer shadows out along the fairways. The sand in the bunkers looked whiter. The grass was greener. "I remember this place being beautiful," Annie mused aloud. "And it still is. But it has changed. I don't know, somehow the course looks a little smaller than I remember."
Blanche smiled. "Well," she said, "The trees grow up and so do we, I guess."
"Yes and rightly so," Annie replied thinking how true that was. "I wonder if the course has changed that much. It used to be so much fun to play."
"I couldn't tell you. I only started playing here after Mitch became a member last year. So I guess it's always been the same for me. And I like it."
"Well, I'm ready if you are. Shall we get g
oing?"
"I'm ready and I'd love to."
As they drove down the cart path to the first tee they could see their caddie waiting for them by the ball washer. He was older than Annie had somehow expected and was dressed in rumpled khaki pants, an un-ironed white polo shirt and a sweat stained white baseball cap with a Biarritz logo embroidered on the front. Well-worn, once white canvas Converse basketball shoes completed his outfit.
Blanche stopped the cart alongside the caddie and Annie got out. "Hello, I'm Mrs. Hyde and this is Mrs. Aiken," Annie addressed him trying to look past his sunglasses and the scruffy white beard.
"Good afternoon," he replied in a pleasant, if formal, voice. "My name's Duff. You've picked a beautiful afternoon for your round."
"We have at that, Duff," Blanche responded taking her driver from her bag. "We look forward to having you with us for the round."
"My pleasure, Ma'am. Have fun."
Blanche took to the tee first and hit a credible drive down the middle of the fairway. Annie was next up and took several practice swings to loosen up. Then she went into her routine; standing behind the ball, picking her line, then addressing the ball and swinging. The ball cracked off the face and flew high and straight down the middle.
"Nice shot!" Blanche exclaimed. "Bridie told me you were a good player and I guess you truly are."
Annie smiled at her. "Thank you. I was okay once. But now it seems I'm either hitting it shorter or the courses are getting longer. I expect the former, though."
Blanche laughed and they got into the cart and drove off after their balls. The caddie followed on foot carrying their putters.
