Here is my totally awesome Xmas gift list:
Dad—personalized golf balls
Gwen (my dad’s new girlfriend)—Chanel No. 5
Grandmother—assorted coffee beans, coffee grinder, espresso machine
Chick—cigars
Mack—Jack Daniels and a tool box
Dorothy—blue velour robe, Godiva chocolates
Dorothy’s Dogs—jeweled collars
Great-Aunt Clancy—umbrella printed with cats
I left off your name because your gift is a major surprise. I didn’t get Aunt Violet anything because I never hear from her. Is she still alive? I will be 15 on New Year’s Eve. For my birthday, Grandmother is giving me a huge party at the club. Hope it’s better than last year’s.
Love,
Jennifer
February 12, 1987
Dear Mother,
I’m sorry I haven’t written sooner, but I have been totally busy. Thanks for the present. It’s snowing, and school let out at ten o’clock in the morning. That was way cool. Gwen is so bogus and talks to me like I’m her girl friend, not her lover’s daughter. This is what she said today: “It’s hard to be sweet when Claude sleeps with anyone who’ll spread her legs. He’s made me into a joke. Why, I can’t get a decent haircut in this town because he’s slept with all of the beauticians.”
And all this time, I just thought she had, like, real shitty hair.
Love,
Jennifer
August 2, 1987
Dear Mother,
I will start the 10th grade in September. Grandmother and I flew to Houston and a limousine took us to the Galleria. It’s like, oh my God. The driver followed behind us, carrying our Saks and Neiman Marcus bags. Every now and then, we’d have to wait while he ran out to the limo to stash everything. He got a little huffy, and I told him to, like, take a chill pill. Grandmother bought from the new Valentino collection. Here is what I bought:
1. Gucci shoulder bag
2. Lace gloves
3. Lace hairbands
4. Green Laura Ashley dress with poofed sleeves
5. Puffy 18 kt heart pendant
6. Louis Vuitton wallet
7. A new Madonna album
9. Oversize pink knit sweater
10. Danskins
More later.
Love,
Jen
December 15, 1987
Dear Bitsy,
Mack and me went to the movies and saw Fatal Attraction. You are so lucky that none of Louie’s tarts were insane. But now I am worried that one of Mr. Stump’s old girlfriends will take revenge on me. Yes, we’ve been seeing each other, and I’m scared. I can just imagine walking into my kitchen and finding one of my Pomeranians sticking out of a bubbling pot. Tomorrow I am calling a locksmith. Then I am giving Mr. Stump an ultimatum: Stop playing the field!
Love,
Dorothy
December 22, 1987
Dear Mother,
I am staying at Dorothy’s this week. She put up her totally faux Xmas tree this morning. She pulled out a box of grody ornaments, including some that I’d made in elementary school. When she finished, her bratty boy dog, Rebel, peed all over the tree. I miss you.
Love,
Jen
January 11, 1987
Dear Bitsy,
The Gulf Coast isn’t the same without you. Just the other day I was cleaning my handbag room, and I found a vintage Jackie O Gucci. May I send it to your mother? Louie is still brooding. I’ve never seen him go this long without taking up with a woman. He only has himself to blame. I hope the Brits are giving you the respect and love you deserve.
Love,
Honora
May 12, 1988
Dear Bitsy,
My poor little friend, Mr. Stump, was standing on his back porch and tripped over his shoelaces. He fell into the flower bed and broke his neck. It didn’t kill him but he stayed in the hospital for a month. Then his daughter came and took him home with her. He wasn’t a real boyfriend, but I sure do miss him. Speaking of such, Earlene has left the Million Dollar man for a filthy rich widower in Knoxville. He is nearly 79. Now Earlene is driving a brand-new Jaguar. But she still has that platinum blond hair and could pass for a hooker. I just pray that she won’t come sniffing after Mack,
Love,
Dorothy
May 20, 1988
Dear Bitsy.
Happy Anniversary. I won’t give up, so you’d better call.
Love,
Louie
December 9, 1988
Dear Bitsy,
I’m so excited that you’re flying home for the holidays. And I LOVE your idea of having an early birthday party for Jennifer. Clancy Jane says she’ll bring the finger foods and coffee, and Mack is going to smoke a turkey and a Boston butt.
I’m counting the days,
Dorothy
January 10, 1989
Dear Mother,
It was way cool seeing you. I loved all my gifts. I’m sorry that I missed the party, but when it started snowing I was like no way, this isn’t happening. So, when my friends said they were going sledding, I had to go. It was awesome. I got a spiral perm and my driver’s license. I want my own car, but my dad is yelling at me to slow down and going totally Chuckie. I just ignore him and turn up the volume on my cassette deck. I am listening to it now. Roxette is singing “It Must Have Been Love.”
Take care,
Jen
P.S. You guys need to remember to call me Jen, okay?
January 22, 1989
Dear Bitsy,
Here is a copy of a tape I sent to Barbara Bush. Do you think I sound kooky?
Love,
Dorothy
January 22, 1989
Dear Barbara Bush,
I haven’t contacted a First Lady in years, but I’m hoping you and me can become friends. For one thing, we are dead ringers for each other. Same fluffy white hair and gracious smiles, except I am lots thinner. My niece, Violet, is also married to a man named George, and he is good to her, but not real family-oriented. He likes to snow ski and go white-water rafting. He was that way even before he and Violet moved to Colorado—nothing but weirdos out there. They are neither Democrat or Republican but Independent. They’re also childless (I suspect a low sperm count). I understand that they voted for Ross Perot, who looks like the rat in Fantasia. I am not surprised at their politics. My niece is an atheist and she goes to Africa by herself to do free medical work, but I can’t imagine what she does over there—she’s a psychiatrist. Although I thought headshrinkers was something they had a lot of over there.
Yours forever,
Dorothy McDougal
February 5, 1989
Dear Bitsy,
All morning I’ve been wearing the cardigan that you left at Christmas. It still smells like you. I’m freezing to death. It turned bitter cold overnight. The temperature dropped into the teens, and my pipes froze. Mack tried to fix it. He used a blowtorch and I was scared that 214 would go up in flames. Mack turned on the upstairs faucet, and when the pipes thawed, the water filled the sink and flooded the bathroom. Water poured through the ceiling, into the dining room. So now I’m fighting with the insurance company. I think your poor brother has damaged his brain. They say that alcohol will actually KILL brain cells. It’s a wonder that he has any left.
Love,
Dorothy
May 21, 1989
Dear Bitsy,
Another anniversary—I wish I knew your address. I would fill your flat with blue boxes from Tiffany’s.
Love,
Louie
December 8, 1989
Dear Mother,
Guess WHAT? We’re going on a Christmas trip to Switzerland next week!!!!!! We go from Nashville to Atlanta to Zurich. So I will get to ride on three planes going and three coming back. I was hoping we’d get to stop off in London, but it’s too much out of our way. But I was thinking we could still meet somewhere, maybe in Lucerne. I know it’s late notic
e, but maybe if you look at the itinerary, which I had to STEAL, we can figure out a way to meet without Grandmother finding out.
My fingers are crossed!
Jen
Jennifer and the Wentworths
Jennifer and her grandparents arrived at the Nashville airport, and Miss Betty had handed over their passports and travel documents at the Delta ticket counter. She turned to Jennifer and said, “Isn’t this exciting?”
Then the Delta agent, a square-built woman, looked up. “There seems to be a problem,” she said. She opened Jennifer’s passport and held it up.
“What’s wrong?” Miss Betty leaned across the counter and blinked at the passport. “I know she doesn’t resemble that picture, but it was taken in 1984. So of course she looks completely different now, but it’s her.”
Jennifer produced her license and school ID card and handed them to the agent hoping they would prove her identity. The agent just looked puzzled and said, “That’s not the issue. I know it’s you, honey. You look just like the picture. The problem is that your passport will expire while you’re abroad.”
“And this means?” Miss Betty raised her eyebrows.
“She can’t leave the country,” said the agent.
“Give me that.” Miss Betty snatched back the passport and peered down at the dates then started screaming. “But the goddamn thing hasn’t expired today,” she cried. “It expires on December thirty-first, and we’re coming home January fifth. So there can’t be much of a problem.”
“I’m sorry,” said the agent.
“This is so silly,” Miss Betty said and turned to her husband. “Chick, give the girl a hundred dollars so we can get on our way.”
The ticket lady began shaking her head.
“Three hundred?” Chick asked and laid his fat wallet on the counter. “Five? Don’t stare at me, girl. Tell me what you want.”
“Are you bribing me?” the agent asked.
Miss Betty exploded. “We would never condescend to bribe a lowly peon such as yourself. Don’t take it out on me just because you’re trapped in a dead-end nine-to-five job. I can’t help it that I’m wealthy. I can’t help that I’m going to Europe. It’s not my fault that you’ve never set foot out of this country.”
“Apparently you haven’t, either,” said the agent. “If you had, you would’ve known that Miss Wentworth’s passport was about to expire—a big no-no in the jet set world.”
“How dare you. I demand to see your supervisor.”
At this, Jennifer’s hopes went up.
“With pleasure,” the agent said, picking up the phone.
Miss Betty turned to Chick. “We should call George Bush. After all, we’re the biggest contributors in Falls County, if not all of Tennessee.”
“Yes, but Senator Gore might have more clout,” Chick said.
The Delta supervisor walked up. The ticket agent, Miss Betty, and Chick all began talking at once. At the other counters, people were staring. Jennifer shrank back, trying to make herself invisible. The supervisor picked up the passport and looked at it, then when Miss Betty paused to catch her breath, the man said he was terribly sorry, but Delta couldn’t issue the transatlantic tickets. However, all wasn’t lost. He asked the ticket agent to step aside and began punching keys on the computer. He told them they could fly down to New Orleans that day and the next morning could take a cab to the passport agency. Then either that night or the next—depending on what flights were available—they would be able fly to Switzerland. So far so good until he told them the rest: they would have to fly on standby, which meant they’d forfeit their first class seats.
“I will forfeit nothing!” Miss Betty cried.
The supervisor ignored her and squinted at the computer screen. “You can take Flight 211 to Atlanta, and then Flight 1145 to New Orleans. But, because these flights are last-minute, it will cost one thousand dollars extra.”
“Just for the New Orleans tickets?” Chick asked.
“Yes,” said the supervision. “You can always get credit for your transatlantic and go another time.”
“You fool, price is no object,” Miss Betty yelled. “But time is of the essence.”
Now we’re on our way, Jennifer thought. The supervisor held out her passport, and she snatched it up and dropped it into her handbag. Miss Betty had suddenly calmed down and was asking the agent if her and Chick’s passports were in order.
When the supervisor admitted they were, and it was just Jennifer’s that was the problem, Miss Betty whispered to Chick. He shoved hundred-dollar bills into Jennifer’s hands and told her to call a limo.
“Why?” Jennifer asked.
Meanwhile, Miss Betty was sorting the luggage and directing a man to lift the Wentworths’ Louis Vuitton bags onto a conveyor belt. The supervisor pushed the tickets into Chick’s outstretched hand. Then they headed for the gates.
“Where do you think you’re going?” cried Jennifer.
Miss Betty turned. “Darling, you really can’t expect us to give up our trip. That wouldn’t be right, would it?” She blew Jennifer a kiss and trilled over her shoulder, “Go on back home, and I’ll bring you back a Cartier tank.”
Thank God for the lady at the Hertz desk. She hadn’t had enough money to break Jennifer’s hundred, but she had a dime for the pay phone. She couldn’t call her father. Claude was at the Betty Ford clinic again. He had stopped drinking, but they couldn’t make him stop taking Percodan. So Jennifer called Dorothy, who told her to sit tight and not to talk to any perverts, that she and Uncle Mack were on their way. Jennifer took the escalator up to the gift shop, where she spent Chick’s money on fashion magazines, stuffed bears, and candy. At the checkout, the clerk said, “Gosh, so much. Are these gifts?”
“No, they’re all for me,” said Jennifer.
“You sure are lucky,” said the clerk.
“Yeah,” said Jennifer, grabbing another stuffed bear and tossing it onto the counter. “The luckiest girl in the world.”
TWO NOTES FROM DOROTHY
March 30, 1990
Dear Bitsy,
I hope everything is fine in London. I read the Nashville Tennessean just to keep track of the weather over there, and I noticed that it was raining. So I have enclosed a cute umbrella. Also, a letter that I want you to read.
Love,
Dorothy
COLUMBIA BROADCASTING SYSTEM
51 W. 52 STREET
NEW YORK, NEW YORK 10019
March 25, 1990
Dear Mrs. McDougal:
Thank you for contacting CBS. We appreciate your plot suggestions for The Guiding Light. We are constantly seeking new material for the Josh and Reva storyline. Your idea of cloning Reva is, even for us, a bit farfetched, but we will keep it in mind. However, once an idea is submitted, it becomes the exclusive property of CBS. Again, thank you for your interest. I have enclosed per your request an autographed photograph of Kim Zimmer.
Sincerely,
James P. Calhoun, Editorial Assistant
May 21, 1990
Dear Bitsy,
Guess what? That’s right, another anniversary. I wish you’d call. I am a different man.
Mad Girls In Love Page 46
