Crown Jewel

by Fern Michaels

  Ricky stopped on the second step from the top, turned, and retraced his steps to where his sons waited. He gathered them close, and only those seated nearby heard the words, “Hearing you say that is better than winning an Oscar.”

  It was a standing ovation when he finally made his way to the stage to accept his Oscar. His speech was probably the shortest in Academy history. “I just want to thank everyone in the world.” He raised the statue high above his head, his vision blurry. But not so blurry that he didn’t see the feather that floated down to alight on the head of the statue he was holding in his hands. He looked at the feather, then at a young actress sitting in the third row, directly in his line of vision. She was wearing a feathered boa. A pink feathered boa. The feather he plucked from the statue was white. He stuck it in his pocket, his heart lighter than air. And then, for the second time that night, history was made when he returned to his seat to hand the Oscar to Lorraine Farquar. “This really belongs to Philly. Since he isn’t here, it goes to his mother. I’m going to keep the feather,” he whispered.

  Lorraine Farquar nodded, seeming to understand as she wept openly, along with half the audience, the half that didn’t care about smearing their mascara.

  An hour later it was over. The Brothers took home four Oscars: Best Picture, Best Female in a Supporting Role, Best Actor, and Best Director.

  “Let’s go home, family. Ellie is probably ready for a nervous breakdown with those two toddlers and the five dogs.”

  Ricky reached for Roxy’s hand. “You know what, this is Hollywood,” he said, stamping his foot, “and it’s just a red carpet!” He laughed. “They’re going to roll it up in a few hours. That means it isn’t real. What’s real are all of you!

  “Thank you all for enriching my life and showing me what real love and family are all about!”

  “And he’s a ham, too!” Max shouted.

  “Takes one to know one!” Ricky laughed as he hugged Roxy to his side.