Sins of the Flesh

by Fern Michaels

  Seething with anger, she slammed down the receiver and hurled the phone across the room. Dammit! There had to be something she could do, some action she could take, to get what she wanted, and she wanted the studio. Perhaps…

  It was a calculated risk; she might be underestimating Philippe or her father, but it was worth a try. Retrieving the phone, she called Daniel and schooled her voice to calmness as she told him about her conversation with Bebe, gently chastising him for turning over his two shares to her. “But I understand why you did it, Daddy,” she added sweetly. “I’m just so sorry that it’s come to all this. I certainly never expected…what I mean is, Philippe is so…so different. I guess he feels guilty. I even understand what he’s feeling, but what he’s done is unforgivable. He’s forcing me into a fight, a legal fight that I never expected or wanted. I just want you to know that when I’m forced to expose him, you yourself will come under scrutiny, and I’m apologizing now for what will happen. Daddy, they’ll disbar you! How can you allow Philippe to put both of us through this…this scandal? It’s going to be an absolute disaster. I never wanted this. Just because Philippe found some…someone else…he can’t do this to…to our son.”

  Daniel’s heart leapt into his mouth. Nellie—his own beloved Nellie—was actually threatening him! And he knew she was speaking the truth; he would be disbarred. Certainly Philippe would be dishonorably discharged, and it would be all over the papers. Al Sugar, well-meaning Al, would spend the rest of his years in shame for his part in all of it. He might even go to prison for fraud or forgery.

  When he could finally speak he choked out the words. “What is it you want, Nellie? Exactly what do you want from me?”

  “Make Philippe go away,” she said. Her voice was strong now, in command, as she pressed her advantage. “He’s shamed me once too often. I don’t want our son to hear about this someday and know his father rejected him and his mother for some…some bimbo he met while he was in the navy.”

  “I can’t make Philippe do anything, Nellie,” Daniel protested weakly.

  “Oh, yes, you can. Bebe listens to you, she’s your friend. Tell them Reuben wouldn’t approve. Everyone is always singing about Reuben and his old love. Sing again, Daddy. Sing loud, or I will fight both of you. Do it for Little Philly,” she added as an afterthought. “And when you call Bebe, tell her I won’t be able to attend the board meeting tomorrow. I promised to take Little Philly to the zoo. Good-bye, Daddy, see you soon.”

  On her way downstairs, Nellie walked past the open door of the nursery. She didn’t look in, she never did. Little Philly didn’t need her, she needed him—but only on paper. To her Little Philly wasn’t a person; he was a thing to be used as leverage, her ace in the hole, her trump card. And like any good player, she knew how and when to expose him, to use him to win the game.

  That night she slept deeply and dreamlessly.

  It was a little past midnight when Daniel Bishop knocked on the screen door of Bebe’s kitchen. About to retire, Bebe was clearing the table and chatting with Philippe and Mike. His mouth set grimly, Daniel joined them at the table and began to recount his telephone conversation with Nellie.

  Thirty minutes later Bebe snapped, “I don’t believe this! You can’t let her do it! She’s sick, she should be institutionalized!”

  “I can’t stop her,” Daniel said glumly. “I don’t think anyone can.”

  “I can,” Philippe said.

  Daniel shook his head. “I’m sorry, Philippe, but you can’t. You can go to court, you can fight, but in the end your reputation will be in shreds, as will mine, and she’ll still win. And don’t think for one minute that she won’t make good on her threat to smear Mike and his family. She’ll leave no stone unturned.”

  Philippe slammed his fist on the tabletop, his eyes wild. “Then what the hell am I supposed to do?”

  “Sell her the studio,” Bebe suggested forcefully. “Global Pictures is still operational. We have all the leased equipment and the building. Start from scratch. The company already has one movie under its belt. Sell out, Philippe, and cut your losses. Don’t let her destroy you!”

  “But my father…Mr. Bishop, what do you think?” Philippe asked in an anguished voice.

  “I agree with Bebe,” Daniel said thoughtfully. “It’s one way of getting your fortune back. Anything is worth a try at this point. If you like, I’ll speak to her attorney tomorrow.”

  “Phil,” Mike interjected, “don’t base your decision on me and my family; we can handle it. Whatever you decide will be okay with us.”

  Philippe clapped his friend on the back, gazing at him with love and affection. “Thanks, Mike. I think my father would understand if I let the studio go. Do you agree, Mother?” Bebe nodded, a smile on her face. “Okay, Mr. Bishop, run it up the flagpole and let’s see what happens.”

  Five days later Daniel reported back to the house in Benedict Canyon. Bebe ushered him out to the terrace, where she, Philippe, Mike, and Jane Perkins were having dinner.

  “Nellie accepts your offer, Philippe,” he announced. “It’ll take a week or so to transfer the funds back to your name. Once I convinced her lawyer that you would make your offer only once and that you wouldn’t back down, Nellie began to see the light. There’s a possibility that a different judge might not be as lenient as the last one, which also helped to sway her. You walk away with what was yours and Nellie walks with full control of Fairmont Studios. The accrued revenues are to be divided evenly. She has working capital and so do you.” He paused, gazing around at all the expectant faces. “It was the best I could do, Philippe, and I want to apologize now, in front of everyone, for what my stepdaughter has put you through.”

  Philippe drew a sigh of relief. “It was more than I hoped for, and I accept your apology.”

  “I do, too,” Bebe said, coming around to give him a quick hug.

  “Me, too.” Jane grinned. “You did real good, Daniel.”

  “There’s one more thing, Philippe,” he added. “One of the conditions of the transfer was that Nellie agree in writing not to expose either one of us. To do so would mean giving up the studio. Naturally she agreed. There’s going to be at least a ton of papers to sign, so don’t leave until that’s all been taken care of.”

  Philippe heaved another sigh. “What about the divorce?” he asked.

  “No, she wouldn’t budge. There is no divorce for either of you in the immediate future. I’m sorry, she dug in her heels on that one.”

  “So you live in sin,” Mike quipped. He sobered instantly when no one laughed. “I didn’t exactly mean that the way it sounded,” he said lamely.

  “What will that cost me?” Philippe asked, tight-lipped.

  Daniel shook his head. “God only knows. She said no and refused to discuss it further. She’s asking the courts for five hundred dollars a week support for…for her son.”

  “Like hell!” Philippe cried. “That boy is not mine. If I pay, that’s an admission he is. No, I absolutely refuse. I won’t even discuss it.”

  “You have to discuss it. It was one of her terms. We gave one, she gave one. If you don’t agree, it’s back to the beginning.” When Philippe remained silent, Daniel sighed and drew his chair closer to the table. “Look, you don’t have to decide today; tomorrow will be soon enough.”

  Bebe grimaced. “So in the end she beat us after all.”

  “In a manner of speaking, yes,” Daniel muttered.

  “And the television…?”

  “Philippe will make a fortune on it, there’s no doubt about it. Nellie is entitled to nothing since you did it all in your name, Bebe,” Daniel reassured her. “The wave of the future is here, and sooner or later it will hurt this industry. That’s when you’ll get your pound of flesh, Philippe.”

  Whatever was good, kind, and decent in Philippe died at that moment, replaced by vengeance, ruthlessness, and hatred. “What about my house?”

  “Nellie’s lawyer said the child needed a home atmosphere and suggested
she keep the house. You can fight it if you want.”

  “Philippe, why not move into your father’s house,” Bebe suggested. “I’m sure if he were here, he would offer it to you. Daniel isn’t there anymore, not since he moved in with Jane. He only goes by to check on things every few days. Someone should live there. I think Reuben would want it to be you.”

  “Where do you stand on all of this, Mr. Bishop?” Philippe asked coolly.

  Daniel reached over and took Jane’s hand. “Well, first of all Jane and I are getting married.” He grinned. “She’s finally going to make an honest man of me. And as far as Nellie is concerned, once all the legal paperwork is done, I wash my hands of her. I told her so, and it didn’t seem to matter to her one way or the other. One part of me believes I’ve failed her, and the other part, the legal part, knows I am no longer responsible for her because she’s of age. Someday I guess I’ll be able to forget all this.”

  “I’ll never forget it,” Philippe snarled as he stomped from the room.

  Ten days later, with the ink barely dry on all the legal documents, Variety broke the news. Hollywood raised its eyebrows and decided to take a backseat, wait-and-watch attitude. Two days after the announcement that Cornelia Tarz was taking over Fairmont Studios, a second story broke that Philip Bouchet Tarz, son of mogul Reuben Tarz, was starting up production at Global Studios, the film company that had turned out The Sands of Time. At this piece of information Hollywood lowered its brows, climbed onto the front seat, and started to buzz. Odds and bets were the order of the day.

  The war was on.

  While Hollywood flapped its wings, Philippe wrote a note to Mr. and Mrs. Almeda thanking them for their hospitality. Then he wrote a second note, this one stiff and formal, to “Elizabeth,” as he referred to her now. In it he apologized for taking up so much of her time and said he wouldn’t be returning to Sacramento in the near future. He closed by wishing her well in any and all future endeavors and signed the note Philip Tarz.

  When Philippe said his good-bye to Mike outside his mother’s house, he handed over a check for the down payment on a building for Mike to start his flight school. “It’s a loan, nothing more,” he insisted when Mike began to protest. “Look, buddy, I don’t want you thinking I don’t want you here. I do, but this is best for you and for me. I have to tackle this on my own and either fall on my face or make it big-time like my old man. And I’m asking you please not to make up any fairy tales for your sister. I want your promise.” Mike nodded glumly. “Maybe someday I’ll be free to…to…you know.” He shrugged.

  “Nellie sounds to me like someone who’ll live to a ripe old age,” Mike predicted, his voice tight with the effort at holding back tears. “Evil people usually do. Jesus, there must be a way….”

  “If there is, I’ll find it. I don’t have the right to ask Lizzie to wait for me. I would never ask that of her, and it wouldn’t be fair. So, let’s say good-bye here.” Philippe forced a grin. “Hell, it’s not really good-bye, I’ll see you at March Field when we sign out for the last time. Good luck, buddy.”

  Mike wanted to shake his friend, to do something—anything—to make him change his mind, but he knew he couldn’t. “Guess I’ll see you around. Listen, if you decide to do anything with stunt pilots, you give me a call, okay? I’ll be here in a minute.”

  “Right. Now get out of here before we both start to blubber.”

  “Lizzie isn’t going to understand any of this,” Mike muttered as he settled himself behind the wheel.

  “I know.” Philippe sighed. “I don’t understand any of it myself.”

  “Think of it as a new beginning.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I’ll do that. You drive carefully, you hear?”

  In frustration, Mike threw the car in gear and roared down the drive, tires squealing. He didn’t look back or blow the horn.

  Philippe turned and walked back to the house. At the door he turned and waved…to nothing. Mike was out of sight. “Okay, Hollywood, it’s my turn at bat,” he muttered. “Only time will tell if I’m the man my father is.”

  Time. Time was the answer to everything.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Hollywood turned out en masse to honor its own on Academy Awards night. Elaborate hairstyles, designer gowns and furs, glittering jewelry, and handsome tuxedos were the order of the evening, as were the gleaming smiles and gracious handwaving to the public that lined the entrance to the theater.

  There was a subdued excitement as filmmakers and actors took their assigned seats in the plush theater. There wasn’t one among them who didn’t covet the small golden statue, but they all knew, regardless of the nominations, who would walk away at the end of the evening with Hollywood’s highest honor.

  In the front row, sixteen children sat alongside Bebe, Jane, Daniel, and Philippe. The children were restless, uncertain of what to expect. All they wanted was for the evening to be over so they could return to France the following day. There had been one bad moment at the door when the usher wouldn’t allow Bruno to bring his dog inside. As one, the children backstepped. Anna spoke for all of them: “If the dog doesn’t go in, we don’t go in. He was as valiant as all of us.” Those lining the plush ropes jeered and booed the usher’s decision. Photographers snapped pictures of Bruno sticking out his tongue at one of the royally clad emissaries of the awards. It took ten minutes of negotiation on Bebe’s part before they could enter—the dog in tow.

  Two hours later, backstage, Jane and Bebe hugged each other ecstatically. The Sands of Time had won Oscars for Best Picture, Best Director, Best Original Screenplay, Best Actor, Best Actress, Best Supporting Actor, and Best Supporting Actress. Best everything! Each time an award was accepted, the entire theater surged to its feet, applauding to show its support for the academy’s decision.

  “And now, ladies and gentlemen, members of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, we have one last honor to bestow before we adjourn for another year,” announced Clark Gable. “Tonight the academy wishes to honor sixteen courageous little soldiers from France. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Marchioness Michelene Fonsard’s little army. Come forward, children!”

  The house rose and roared its approval as the children trooped up to the stage. Marie took her place before the microphone and in almost perfect English spoke.

  “We wish to thank you for this honor. Mademoiselle Mickey and Monsieur Tarz saved our lives. We accept your honor on their behalf. We will always remember this wonderful time in your country. Tomorrow we return to France, where we will join Monsieur Tarz, who is waiting for us. We will tell him of this wonderful evening. Thank you.”

  One by one the children were handed their small statues. As Bruno reached for his award, his dog leapt from his arms and scampered across the stage. The bright lights and laughter of the audience confused the dog, and he immediately peed on Gable’s leg, to the uproarious delight of the audience. Good sport that he was, Gable picked up the dog and announced, “It’s a rented tux.”

  Backstage there was pandemonium. “You’ll need a truck to carry all of these back to the house,” Daniel said, laughing.

  The children shyly posed for pictures and murmured their thanks over and over, their statues held aloft.

  “I’m so tired I could go to sleep on my feet,” Bebe whispered to Jane.

  “Take them home, Bebe. Daniel and I will make an appearance at the party and join you in a little while,” Jane promised. “The kids look absolutely exhausted. Daniel’s bags are in the car. You’re all packed and ready to go, right?”

  Bebe grinned. “The children have been packed and ready to go for the last two months. I’m ready to go, that’s for sure. I’ve had enough of Hollywood to last me the rest of my life. I wish you were coming.”

  “I will, but I have to help Philippe get Global off the ground. Eight, ten months, and I’ll be knocking on the door of that château. I’m glad Daniel’s going, though,” Jane added. “He has to get away from here, away from Nellie. It’s be
st. I’m going to miss him terribly, but it’ll give me something to look forward to. In the meantime, you be sure and tell Reuben we made a hell of a team.”

  “I will. I’ll see you later.” Bebe glanced around. “Have you seen Philippe? He came with all of us in the bus and said he would leave with us, but I haven’t seen him since the children accepted their honors.”

  “He left a few minutes ago in my car,” Jane told her. “Said he wanted to write a letter to his father. I think the young man has a lot to say at this point. He’s going to be all right, Bebe. This thing with Nellie…it’ll be resolved eventually. Philippe is starting a new life, and at this point Nellie is nothing more than a nuisance he has to deal with. Don’t worry about him; I won’t leave until I’m sure he’s on the right road.”

  “Bless you, Jane, what would any of us have done without you?” Bebe said in a choked voice. Jane kissed her on the cheek before she linked her arm with Daniel’s.

  Bebe clapped her hands. “Okay, listen up! We’re going out to the bus in an orderly manner. We’re going home to…to get ready for our trip tomorrow. All in favor, say aye!”

  The mad scramble through the crowds with Bebe dashing behind her young charges had photographers clicking their cameras madly.

  It was over. Tomorrow, Hollywood would be a memory.

  Epilogue

  “I feel like I’ve just come home for the second time in my life,” Daniel said softly to Bebe.

  “I feel the same way. So many years, Daniel…. This is the right thing, isn’t it?” she whispered.

  “More right than you’ll ever know. You go ahead, we’ll all wait here. This is your moment and you’ve waited long enough. I don’t know if those shoes are sturdy enough to tramp through a vineyard, though.”

  “My feet have wings.” Bebe smiled as she started off toward the vineyard where Reuben was pruning the grapevines. She saw him first, her hand flying to her mouth to stifle an exclamation of joy. Quietly she waited at the end of the vines, willing her husband to turn and notice her. Turn, Reuben, look at me, she prayed.