Baby On His Hollywood Doorstep (Brides 0f The Roaring Twenties Book 1)

by Lauri Robinson

  Helen took Grace and kissed her forehead.

  “What did the test consist of?” Jack asked.

  “It’s called the Pirquet test.” Dr. Baine pulled Grace’s left sleeve up, uncovering a tiny bandage. “It’s being used worldwide to indicate the presence of tuberculosis.”

  “And if she has it?” Jack asked.

  Dr. Baine shook his head. “We’ll discuss that at the time. I don’t know what the living conditions were like before Grace came to live at your apartment, but the environment she’s in right now is exactly as it should be. Clean. Plenty of light and fresh air, and no spittoons. It was believed that saliva is what transmitted the disease, but studies are showing otherwise. That a person actually has to breathe them in. That’s why fresh air is so important. Make sure she gets as much as possible.”

  The doctor was looking at her and Helen nodded. “I will.”

  “You can remove the covering later on today, and keep an eye on the area. If you notice it’s red or swollen, I need to see her immediately, otherwise, you’ll need to bring her back the day after tomorrow.”

  “That’s it?” Jack asked.

  “Yes.”

  It wasn’t over, Helen knew that, but still her heart felt lighter than it had in some time. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” Dr. Baine said.

  Jack had pulled out his wallet. “How much do I owe you?”

  “You can pay for it after we know the results,” Dr. Baine said. “The front desk will have a bill made out for you then.”

  “All right.” Jack shook the doctor’s hand. “Thanks again.” Looking at her, he said, “Let’s go home.”

  More than ready to leave the hospital, Helen nodded.

  “Not so quick,” the doctor said.

  Helen’s heart skipped a beat as she and Jack looked at each other and then the doctor.

  He pointed at her. “Were you around her mother?”

  “Yes. She lived with me.”

  He nodded. “I think we should give you the test, too.”

  The cost was the first thing Helen thought of.

  “You’re right,” Jack said. “Can you do it now?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then do it,” Jack said, reaching to take Grace.

  “I—”

  Jack shook his head. “No arguments. Grace and I will be right here.”

  “It’s as much for Grace as it is you,” the doctor said. “In fact, it’s more likely that you could have been infected than Grace.”

  Helen understood that and the importance of not infecting anyone else. She handed Grace to Jack and followed the doctor through the doorway. She’d always been very careful around Vera, giving as much of herself as possible, while ensuring that she wouldn’t catch the disease, ensuring that it was at least one way she wouldn’t put Grace at risk.

  Just as he’d promised, the test didn’t take long and was little more than a pinprick in her forearm. It was barely a matter of minutes before she and Jack left the hospital.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked once they were all in the car. “We could stop at a diner for some breakfast?”

  “No, I’m fine,” Helen said, using her scarf ties to tickle Grace’s nose. “I can make you some eggs at the apartment.”

  “You won’t mind?”

  “Of course I won’t mind.” Helen glanced out the window, at the people strolling into the hospital, and then down at her brown dress. This certainly wasn’t Chicago. Her drab attire here made her stand out rather than hide in a crowd.

  “Then let’s do that,” Jack said. “Get both you and Gracie back home. Does your arm hurt?”

  “No. It was just a little prick with a needle,” Helen answered, her mind more focused on her attire.

  “Look, that’s what we need.”

  Helen glanced up. They’d stopped, waiting for cars to go by so he could turn. She glanced around. At buildings, cars, fashionably dressed people. “What?”

  “That woman. The buggy she’s pushing. There’s a park not far from the apartment, Grace could get all the fresh air she needs.”

  Helen saw the woman and the buggy. It was white, made of wicker, and had a bonnet over the top to shield the sun. The woman pushing it was wearing a bright yellow dress, with matching scarf and purse.

  “Wonder where you’d buy one of those,” he said.

  “A store I suppose. I’m sure they are expensive.” A buggy like that would be costly, so would the woman’s clothes.

  Traffic cleared and he took the corner. Once they were rolling along again, he gestured toward Grace. “Looks like she needs a toy or something too, the way she’s playing with your scarf.”

  “She’s never done this before,” Helen said. Grace was engrossed with the ties of her scarf. “I’ll tie one of the spoons to it when we get home, maybe she’ll chew on it then. She didn’t want anything to do with one last night.”

  “She seems happy now.”

  Grace did, making Helen wonder if all of the fussing last night was because he’d been gone. That was silly. Grace was too small to realize who and who wasn’t nearby. She, on the other hand, wasn’t, and had been beside herself. It seemed like that’s all she’d thought about. Him. It was as if her mind wasn’t her own. Even now, he had to have been embarrassed, taking her to the hospital in her frumpy clothes.

  “What’s wrong?” Jack asked as he pulled up next to the apartment building.

  “Nothing,” Helen answered quickly. She opened the car door to step out, juggling Grace and her purse.

  * * *

  Jack hurried around the car and grabbed the door, holding it out of the way as Helen climbed out. After shutting the door, he held out his arms. “I’ll carry Grace.”

  “I can.”

  “I know you can, but I want to.” He did want to, and waited until Helen handed her over.

  As soon as he had opened his eyes this morning, realizing he’d fallen asleep at his desk, he’d shot to his feet and raced home. He hadn’t meant to leave them alone. Not all night, and having done so had filled him with regrets that had grown upon learning that both Helen and Grace hadn’t slept well. If at all.

  He was surprised he’d slept. He’d sat at his desk for hours after Joe had hung up, waiting for his brother to call back. Joe hadn’t said he would—Jack was just hoping. As soon as Joe had heard about Vera’s death, he’d hung up. Before Jack had a chance to mention Grace or Helen, or find out where Joe was.

  He’d called the operator, asked her to ring back the number that had just called him. She hadn’t been able to because it had been long distance, out of her exchange.

  Joe had been stunned by the news of Vera. So shaken, Jack wished he’d broken the news more gently. He hadn’t though. Rather than asking where Joe was, how he was doing, he’d blurted out that he’d received news that Vera had died in Chicago. Joe had asked how, when. Jack had said TB, last month.

  The line had gone so quiet the static had echoed in his ears. He’d finally asked if Joe was still there. Joe had said he was, but that he had to go. That’s when the line went completely dead. No static. Nothing until the operator had come on and told him to hang up because the call had been disconnected.

  Helen was in front of him, walking up the steps, and he wondered if he should tell her about talking to Joe. Why? He didn’t know anything more than before talking to his brother. She’d probably question him, point out things he already knew. That he shouldn’t have been so callous.

  Joe hadn’t been. Not at first. He’d sounded happy, ready to talk.

  “I’ll start frying your eggs right away,” Helen said, stepping aside for him to insert the key in the door.

  “That’s all right,” he said, opening the door. “I better get to the studio.” He kissed the top of Grace’s head, handed her over and left. Traipsed down the
steps he’d just walked up, with a whole other set of regrets pressing down on him.

  He’d been furious at his brother when the scandal hit. Joe had insisted it wasn’t anything to worry about, that he’d take care of it. Joe had, in his own way, taken care of it, by selling off shares and skipping town.

  Joe had called a couple of times those first few weeks, but Jack had been up to his eyeballs in the aftermath of it all. Getting rid of Joe hadn’t been enough. They’d wanted the studio shut down. They being the studio owners of The Big Five. The owners had gotten together and laid down rules they expected everyone else to follow only because it benefited them and their studios, not the smaller ones like his.

  Though he hated to admit it, the Broadbents had played a part in that not happening. They bought and sold any and everything, and had their hands in more pockets than anyone knew. In the end, the big players backed off, knowing there was more than one way to shut down a studio.

  Jack climbed in the car. That’s what he’d been fighting. The collapse of the studio. It had been a tough game. Still was. The other studios had refused to show his movies in their theaters, had offered his actors extravagant salaries to break the contracts they’d signed with him, and, on more than one occasion, paid to have others smear his films and to insult those who dared to claim they’d enjoyed one of his films.

  What had kept him going was the results his films received outside of Hollywood. The privately owned theaters who could show whatever movies they wanted and requested more from him. They had become his bread and butter because he wasn’t solely trying to make stars out of anyone. His actors were good, but so were his story lines and his final products were what people wanted. Enjoyment. They didn’t want to just see a well-known name on screen, they wanted a story they could relate to.

  He started the car and pulled onto the road. The Big Five were after one thing—to monopolize the entire industry. They were tying up actors, writers, producers and directors with contracts so tight there was little creativity left. Production chiefs and publicity managers ruled entire studios. Vertical integration, that’s what they were doing. Tying up every aspect of the filming industries under one roof.

  What they were overlooking was that when there was that much money involved, others wanted in. Those others weren’t always the most scrupulous people. Gangsters from New Orleans, New York, Chicago, Detroit, had all hit town. Top eggs back home, they were hot on the trot to get in on the action. Especially one known as the Outfit in Chicago. They’d sent more than one egg. Word was, they sent an entire unit of sab cats to sabotage others getting too close to deals they wanted sole access to.

  They were also building theaters, ones where every studio could show their films. One was right here in Los Angeles. A big extravagant building downtown. It was scheduled to be completed in two months. So was his movie. If all continued to go right, his movie would be the first one shown in that theater.

  He’d been surprised when they first came to him, offering the deal, and he’d asked if Joe was behind it. Somehow connected. They said no, that they’d seen his movies, and that the only thing behind it was the money that could be made, by all of them.

  The money he could make off that one showing would be enough to pay off the Broadbents completely, and leave him plenty to invest in his several movies yet to come.

  The parking lot of the studio was full, and he had no doubt filming had already started. He had a good crew, people he trusted, and would make sure they got their just rewards when this film hit it big.

  He might be the studio owner, but it wasn’t all about him.

  “Any calls?” he asked walking through the front door.

  “No, sir,” Miss Hobbs replied. “Other than those wanting auditions.”

  Heading toward the hallway, he started to tell her to come get him if Helen or Joe called, but stopped. Helen might not provide her name, Joe might not, either. “Come get me if anyone calls.”

  “Anyone?”

  He understood the implications of that. “No, not those you know for sure are only requesting auditions, but anyone else.”

  She nodded and went back to typing while he opened the hallway door. He didn’t go straight to the film set. There was someone else he had to see first.

  Chapter Ten

  Helen opened her eyes and licked away the dryness from her lips and the roof of her mouth. The fog from being deep asleep was heavy and she blinked, trying to dispel it enough to see what had woken her. Grace was asleep beside her on the bed. She didn’t even remember falling asleep. After Jack had left, and she’d fed Grace, she’d lain down beside her, thinking she’d rest for only a few minutes.

  A sound penetrated her thinking, a knock.

  Surely it wasn’t on the apartment door.

  It came again. Louder. Confirming it was on the apartment door.

  Recalling how she hadn’t heard Jack walk in this morning, she jumped off the bed. After double-checking that Grace was still sleeping, she hurried out of the bedroom.

  At the door, she grasped the knob. “Who is it?”

  “I have a delivery for Helen Hathaway.”

  She froze. Her mind was blank, but she searched it anyway. Wondering if someone had seen her this morning. Knew she was here.

  “Ma’am?”

  Shaking her head, having no idea how long she’d stood there, stock-still, she swallowed, but her throat was so dry there was nothing to swallow. “From who?” she managed to croak.

  “Jack McCarney. It’s getting heavy, ma’am, can you let us in?”

  What could Jack be sending her? Why didn’t he just bring it home later?

  A thud sounded, along with a somewhat strangled, “Ma’am?”

  “Just a second.” She released the knob and grabbed the spare key from the side table. After unlocking the door, she opened it only a crack.

  There were two men standing there, holding a crib, legs up and almost over their heads.

  “We don’t want to set it down because it’s only going to go through the door sideways,” one said.

  He was tall and gangly, the other was shorter, and red faced.

  The red-faced man said, “We had to carry it up the stairs this way.”

  “Oh.” She stepped aside, pulling the door open as wide as it would go.

  “Where do you want it?” the first one asked as they maneuvered the crib in sideways through the door, legs first.

  She didn’t have a clue. “Right there will be fine.”

  “In the middle of the living room?” the second one asked.

  “It has wheels,” the first one said, sounding flustered. “Set it down. Slowly.”

  The crib did indeed have wheels. Little black ones. Made of metal, and sparkling white, the crib was stunning. Metal pipes made up the two sides, while the two ends were solid metal with curved tops. She pressed a hand to her lips at the sight of the little lambs painted on both ends. Inside and out.

  “We’ll be right back,” the tall man said.

  Pulling her gaze off the crib, which was difficult, she asked, “Why?”

  “The mattress,” he said.

  “Among other things,” the other said, following the first one out the door.

  A short time later, Helen confirmed Jack was certainly more amazing than she’d even imagined. The delivery men made a total of four trips up and down the stairs. Hauling in the crib mattress; a buggy, wicker, identical to the one they’d seen that morning; a high chair, wooden, with a little bear eating a pot of honey painted on the back of the seat; a rocking chair and a variety of packages wrapped in paper and tied with string.

  Helen stood there, amongst the array of items, for some time after the men had left. It was as if Jack had been inside her mind. Knew all the items she’d dreamed Grace would someday have. These items had to have cost a fortune.

  Remors
e rose up as she took another long look at the items. She was the one who had promised Vera that she’d take Grace to Joe. Joe. Not Jack. He was doing all this out of the goodness of his heart. She’d not only thrust Grace on him, but herself too. Yes, he’d asked her to watch Grace while he made his movie...

  His movie. She was even impeding on his ability to do that and it was up to her to do something about that. About all of this. Exactly what, she wasn’t sure, but she didn’t want to be a burden to him.

  The crib was in the bedroom, as were the new baby clothes and diapers; the high chair in the kitchen; and the buggy, the only place it would fit was along the wall near the bathroom, so that’s where it was stationed when Jack walked through the door.

  “Oh, good, it arrived,” Jack said before she had a chance to speak.

  “Yes, it arrived. All of it.” Shaking her head, she asked, “Why would you do all of this?”

  His grin was a bit sheepish. “I didn’t. Not really. Carter, my prop man, said he knew exactly what we’d need, and said he’d have it delivered.”

  Confused, she said, “No one is supposed to know about Grace, not until your movie is completed.”

  He held up a finger. “No one needs to know she is Joe’s daughter. Except for Dr. Baine, that was out of necessity, but he won’t share that with anyone. I trust him. And Carter. I trust him too.” He touched the buggy. “Where’s Grace? Has she tried any of it out?”

  “She’s in the crib, asleep.”

  He took a step toward the bedroom, and though it took courage, Helen swiftly blocked his path.

  “Where she is going to stay.”

  He frowned. “What’s wrong?”

  “This!” She gestured toward the buggy and then the rest of the room. “All of this.”

  He huffed out a breath as if her question was ridiculous. “Grace isn’t going to fit in that dresser drawer for long, and how is she going to learn to eat food if she doesn’t have a high chair? You need the rocking chair so you don’t have to carry her around when she’s fussy. You can rock her back to sleep instead.” He pointed at the buggy. “And Dr. Baine said she needs fresh air.”