The Silver Screen

by The Silver Screen (retail) (epub)

  Yes, she had come a long way to see her father and no one was going to get in her way. Kate’s mood was improving rather rapidly now.

  Her soft chuckle echoed, mingling with her big band tunes. “All or nothing at all.” She leaned into the soft, plump pillows, closed her eyes and drifted to sleep in anticipation of the following day’s activities.

  Early the next morning, however, an unexpected knock at her door sent Kate’s heartbeat into overdrive. For one panicked moment, she thought it might be Jack and went in 20 directions trying to look presentable without makeup or combed hair. She sat up quickly and held her breath as the door opened and an unknown woman entered the room.

  She was in her early 20’s, bright red hair, clear light blue eyes, petite in stature. She smiled at Kate saying in a soft Irish lilt, “Good day, Miss Clifton. I’m Rosie. I’ll be helping you with your wardrobe and attending to your general needs during your stay.”

  Kate grinned, looking into the sweetest Irish face. She felt an instant rapport. “Hi, Rosie,” Kate managed as her heart rate slowed. “Are we going shopping? I hope so. I’ve been in here forever.”

  Rosie laughed, “Uh, well, no. Not exactly. But I can improve your surroundings.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We’ll be moving you upstairs to your suite and I will bring a wardrobe selection to be fitted.”

  Kate blinked as her green eyes widened. “Really, I’m sure that will be just great,” she nodded, amused and delighted with the certain formality of it all. “Boy, shades of Princess Diana! I like this.”

  “Princess who, Miss Clifton?”

  “Oh, yeah. Oh, uh, I don’t think you would know her yet.”

  “Ah, well then, perhaps you would care to dress.” Rosie pointed to the closet nearby.

  “Yes,” Kate said, eagerly throwing back the covers. “But where is the suite?”

  “Mr. Raymond keeps one on the Penthouse level for all our visitors.”

  Kate nodded, digesting how casually Rosie referred to their guests as if they had just flown in from San Francisco, instead of traveling 50 years back in time. “And Mr. Raymond is . . . ?”

  “The Managing Director,” Rosie offered as she began to fold garments. “His office is in the building.”

  “I see, of course,” Kate remarked, quickly putting two and two together. He would be Sherman’s equivalent in 1939. Naturally, she grimaced; Jack has omitted that information as well.

  “By the way, Rosie, any signs of Jack Baldwin today?” Kate kept her voice light, but her heartbeat picked up.

  “No, Miss, but he left clear instructions to make sure you were comfortable in your suite.”

  “Oh, did he? Well, that’s . . .” she faltered. “That’s nice.” She hated that even when Jack wasn’t present, his name could cause her to mumble. Not a good omen for the future.

  Things proceeded quickly after that as Rosie orchestrated her move, which occupied several elevators. Her disappointment in not running into other guests was short lived as the large ornate, double doors were swept open for her to enter. Her green eyes widened as she looked around a huge, sumptuous room, lavish in its interpretation of old-world elegance. The living room was decorated in English manor house style. Country floral chintz and ornate marble fireplace dominated the other end of the room. Heavy, tasseled drapery treatments graced the floor-to-ceiling windows. Fabulous rugs were in abundance, along with a selection of antiques and paintings. A feast for the eyes.

  Despite this incredible luxury, it was the vase of long stemmed red roses that captured her attention, making her heart run riot. “Jack,” she whispered under her breath. She moved slowly toward the flowers, bending momentarily to inhale their rich fragrance.

  Her reaction went unnoticed as a flurry of attendants brought in several rolling racks of clothes, boxes of shoes, hats and assorted personal accessories. Rosie managed the brief flurry of activity with expertise.

  She turned then, noticing Kate’s reaction to the roses and smiled, “They are indeed lovely, aren’t they, Miss Clifton? Mr. Raymond is terribly thoughtful, don’t you think?”

  Kate attempted to cover once again her disappointment. “Yes, most generous. They are lovely,” she nodded, but Kate had reduced Jack back to scoundrel status. This is insane, she mentally reprimanded herself. Up one minute, down the next. Get a grip, Kate. Just because you’ve landed in a 1930s movie doesn’t transform Jack into Rudolf Valentino. The thought led little consolation for her.

  An attendant moved quickly across the room to open the heavy velvet drapes. A flood of daylight filled the room.

  Kate blinked, her curiosity rose and she approached the tall windows. Taking a breath, Kate pushed the sheer curtain aside and looked out into the world of 1939. She stood momentarily disoriented, trying to take it all in, but it filled her with a peculiar assault on her senses. It was exactly the same place she had been in three days ago, but different. It was almost like a movie set with different storefronts, old cars, 1930s and ‘40s attire. Not a jogging suit in sight. Familiar landmarks still existed but were gently aged with less modern structure. From her bird’s eye view, the Regent Beverly Wilshire dwarfed everything else in the surrounding area. Her thoughts drifted as the realization of what she had done began to sink in. An acute sense of loneliness of being so near and yet so far hit her all at once. What, indeed, had she done in her haste and anger . . . in her pain and loss? But, as was Kate’s nature bred into her, her sense of survival and adventure slowly returned. She knew she had come too far. She had to find out what they were really doing. And of course, there was the matter of her father. That brought a smile to her face. Whatever happened, it would be worth it.

  “Lovely day, isn’t it Miss Clifton?”

  “Oh, yes, Rosie.” Rosie’s voice brought Kate back from her thoughts, and her hand released the sheer. “Yes, you can’t beat California weather. Always the best.” She turned, producing a pleasant smile.

  Rosie paused for the briefest moment, as if sensing Kate’s inner turmoil. Her clear blue eyes, kind and observant and yet not intrusive. It wouldn’t have been appropriate for her to ask. Instead, she said, “Would you like something to drink before we begin?” Kate thought how she would just love a Starbucks coffee, but instead said, “Iced tea I think would be just fine.”

  Rosie nodded, reaching to pick up the heavy, old black phone and notified room service.

  Kate, a fan of the period clothes of the old movies from the ‘30s and ‘40s, delighted in the rest of the day spent with Rosie. She hadn’t realized how casual designs had become the norm in the ‘90s.

  Rosie patiently instructed her in the various correct attire for the time, which included daywear, cocktail, fancy dress and something called beachcomber attire with a strong Hawaiian influence. Rosie gladly answered Kate’s questions, not only about correct fashions, but about more personal ones.

  Kate discovered Rosie was just 21 and newly married to her husband Daniel Noland. Both were born in the United States, though her parents came directly from Ireland. Daniel worked in the hotel restaurant, which allowed them to share more time together. Rosie was hoping for a baby, but no luck yet.

  As Kate listened to Rosie, she was touched by the simplicity of their lives, realizing, as her heart began to sink a bit, that so much would change in the world in the next 50 years. A ringing phone made Kate jump in surprise.

  “I’ll get that.” Rosie got up from pinning the hem of the black cocktail dress and went quickly to answer the phone. “Miss Clifton’s suite.” Rosie’s Irish accent filled the quiet room. “Yes, sir. I understand. I will tell her. Yes, of course. Good bye.”

  Kate’s stomach fluttered; certainly, it must be Jack.

  “That was Mr. Raymond. He will be joining you for cocktails in your suite at seven o’clock.” She bent down to finish the hem. “I think I can have this ready for you by
then.”

  Kate nodded.

  * * *

  Kate could only stare in complete amazement at her transformed reflection in the tall, ornate mirror in her dressing room that evening. Gone were any vestiges of the 1990’s woman. Before her was a softer, more glamorous, almost elegant lady. Her hair was swept up with rhinestone pins in it. The tailored black cocktail dress fit her immaculately and was dusted with the sparkle of a diamond broach and matching earrings. If it wasn’t for Rosie’s soft knock and murmur of voices from the living room, Kate most likely would have been standing there dumbfounded for an indefinite period.

  Blinking, she brought her attention to Rosie who stood beaming at her, “Miss Clifton, you are indeed lovely this evening. Are you pleased?”

  “Yes, Rosie. We passed pleased a long time ago.”

  Rosie’s grin widened, “Oh, I am so delighted. Now, Mr. Raymond is waiting with his company and I’ll tell him you’ll be right along.”

  “Yes, please. And Rosie,” Kate reached out to touch her arm, “. . . thanks, really. This has meant so much to me. I can’t begin to tell you.”

  “It was a pleasure, Miss.”

  Kate nodded. Turning with one last look, she squared her shoulders and walked into meet whatever waited for her in the living room.

  A fire was burning brightly as a tall solidly built man, reminiscent of Robert Mitchum, moved to greet her along with another couple she didn’t recognize. Once again, Jack was absent. A stab of disappointment and anger filtered through her. She pushed it aside as she moved forward, extending her hand to Fred Raymond.

  “How do you do, Miss Clifton?” His deep baritone voice fell over here as she looked into the distinguished face of a man in his 50’s with receding silver hair. He exuded a calm, authoritative strength.

  “Mr. Raymond,” Kate flexed her smile muscles, attempting a certain calm she definitely didn’t feel. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  There was no sign of disapproval or anger. He was too polite to hit her with that at first, she realized. His firm handshake fell away as she turned to be introduced to a British couple, Archibald and Regina Tuttle.

  “Smashing to meet you, Miss Clifton. Now, you must call me Archie and,” he nodded to the woman next to him, “. . . my left hand or is it my right?”

  “Oh, darling, I think I’ll be your right hand tonight,” Regina grinned wickedly.

  “Oh, so much nonsense. You must call me Tilly. Everyone does.” She reached out to warmly shake Kate’s hand.

  “Hello, Tilly,” Kate grinned at her genuine warmth and humor, which was not far from her eyes. Petite with auburn hair and blue eyes, she exuded a liveliness that was charming and instantly likable. Archie, not necessarily drop-dead British handsome, but with his pale blonde hair was clearly loaded in the charm and wit department.

  Behind Kate, a man’s voice unexpectedly asked, “Cocktails?”

  Kate whirled around to discover a tall, lanky black man smiling and mixing drinks with smooth expertise.

  “Bourbon and water, Mr. Raymond?”

  “Yes, Jessie.”

  “And you, ma’am?” He looked directly at Kate.

  “Oh, I’ll just have a ginger ale and a twist of lemon.”

  “Very good.”

  “Oh, cocktails for us,” Tilly giggled. “Now, don’t spare those olives, Jessie.”

  “Oh, I won’t, Miss Tilly.”

  Rosie then appeared with a silver tray of hors d’oeuvres and moved quietly among the small group.

  “Well, Miss Clifton,” Mr. Raymond remarked, “I hope you are comfortable. And Rosie has taken good care of you, I see.”

  “Yes, she has been absolutely wonderful.” Kate paused, a bit hesitant, “I really have to thank you. This is wonderful. I’m very grateful considering . . .”

  Her voice trailed off suddenly embarrassed as Mr. Raymond listened calmly to her. “Yes, well, why don’t we all sit down and have a talk?” He pointed to the sofa by the fireplace. Kate half expected him to take the classic position by the mantle, but instead he settled into the large, English winged back chair adjacent to the fireplace.

  Kate’s stomach knotted. He wasn’t easy to read. She had known Sherman all her life and now she had a total stranger with whom to deal.

  “Miss Clifton,” Tilly interjected.

  “Please,” she looked at everyone, “Please call me Kate.”

  “Kate it is,” Tilly grinned. “Such exciting work, don’t you think?”

  “Work?” Kate echoed.

  Mr. Raymond cleared his throat, “Not this time, I’m afraid, Tilly. Kate was an unexpected visitor. I believe you know her mother, Lilli.”

  “Good heavens, yes. But . . .”

  “Yes,” Mr. Raymond cut in. “We were so sorry to hear of her passing.”

  “She died?” Archie asked, in genuine surprise.

  “Yes,” Kate remarked. “A year ago. Cancer, I’m afraid. But then, that’s how I got involved with . . .”

  “Kate,” Raymond cut in, heading her off anymore unnecessary revelations. “Sherman naturally sent a report with Jack about your unscheduled activities.”

  “I thought he might have,” Kate replied and nervously added, “You know, I never meant . . . I mean, I was so upset. I’m really sorry, but . . .” Kate was going nowhere fast.

  “Whether you meant to or not, the fact remains you have involved yourself in something in which you do not belong. Whether you agree with what you think may be going on here or may have transpired here, you have created additional problems and complications. Not only by your presence, but by another . . .”

  “I say, Raymond,” Archie cut in. “Surely it’s not as bad as that. Kate seems to be remorseful.”

  “Worse, I’m afraid,” Archie frowned.

  “What can we do to straighten things out a bit?”

  “Before I get into that, Kate, you must be very clear on something. You absolutely must not, under any circumstances, change history for fun, for personal reasons, for anything. That translates to no interference, young lady.”

  Kate nodded, but of course, knew she had other plans and had every intention to fulfill them. She nodded and smiled again, realizing that a verbal debate with Fred Raymond would not accomplish anything.

  “Now, Archie and Tilly, you along with . . .”

  A sharp knock interrupted the conversation.

  As Rosie moved quickly to open the double doors, Kate turned and looked up to find Jack Baldwin impeccably dressed in a 1930’s suit. He looked beyond handsome. She was more than relieved to be sitting down as racing heart and sweaty palms arrived. She hated that he had this effect on her.

  “Jack, darling,” Tilly giggled, standing up and smiling brightly. “You are a sight for sore eyes.”

  Jack’s brown eyes instantly warmed. “Tilly, lovely as always,” he leaned over and kissed both of her cheeks in the European fashion.

  “Archie,” Jack grasped his hand firmly, “Good to see you.”

  “Likewise, my friend.”

  “Raymond, apologies for tardiness.”

  Raymond nodded, signaling Jessie, “Scotch on the racks for Mr. Baldwin.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Kate,” Jack nodded at her. “You’re looking rested,” he remarked nonchalantly, proceeding to retrieve his scotch at the bar. “Thanks, Jessie.”

  “Yes, sir, Mr. Baldwin. Nice to see you again.”

  Jack nodded his smile.

  However, Kate felt that undeniable wisp of anger begin to coil in her. “You’re looking rested,” didn’t cut it. The man infuriated her. She clenched and unclenched her hands, annoyed with herself. To be so affected by someone with whom she had no relationship beyond a limited interaction as a teenager.

  “You two know each other then. But of course you do.” Tilly smiled, b
ut her smile faltered a bit, sensing the electric current between them.

  Jack casually leaned against the bar as he perused the scene. He presented his best poker face. He had to. Damn it, if she didn’t look stunning, no, ravishing, in that 1930’s getup. But inside, Jack felt that undeniable, all too familiar pull, his desire rearing its untimely head. So much for waiting to interact with Kate when he got back.

  Kate’s fiery, defiant gaze swept over Jack. He looked back unfazed.

  “Yes, we’ve known each other. We go way back.”

  Kate nearly crackled with anger. “Not that far, nor that way,” she informed him coldly. Kate took a deep breath, acutely aware that she was struggling for self-control.

  “Amazing,” Tilly muttered. “They don’t like each other.” She couldn’t grasp that any woman might not be completely mad over Jack.

  “Now, darling, don’t tease,” Archie interjected.

  “Nonsense. I was just . . .”

  “Meddling,” Archie raised an eyebrow.

  “There will be enough time for all that,” Raymond interjected matter-of-factly. He motioned for Jack to join them. “Come and sit down, Jack. I don’t have all night.”

  The inquisition that Kate had expected and tried to prepare herself for was not at all what had transpired. More importantly, it revealed little more than she already knew and created a hundred more questions. Mr. Raymond had made it crystal clear they would indeed keep her under lock and key if she created the slightest ripple in their affairs. He alluded to the fact that cinema history was at stake and her arrival, or rather untimely arrival, had caused unforeseen problems that may not be corrected.

  Occasionally, during his long-winded dissertation, Kate cast a sidelong glance at Jack. Something big was brewing and they were panicked that she was going to mess it up. Her mind raced with ideas.