The Good Life

by Gordon Merrick

  “Thank God. That’s wonderful. Does she have any news?”

  “She’s back in school. She wrote only about an hour after war had been declared. She was in a state of high excitement, naturally, already talking about passage home.”

  “She mailed the letter after the war had started?” Perry smiled to himself with loving satisfaction. His letter had been written before Billy’s.

  “Barely two weeks ago. I should be hearing from the school any day now. They sounded so well-organized that I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve already booked her on a boat.” He drained his glass and held it up to Perry. “Would you, my dearest?”

  “With pleasure.” He took it to the drinks cabinet and did the necessary. “Now that you know you’re staying, won’t you keep Laszlo later in the evening?”

  “I must get organized. I’ll ask him to get us a cleaning woman and give him some afternoons off, which he prefers. Would you like to take my place in a bridge game? Esther Myerson called earlier and asked me to make a fourth tomorrow, but I’m going to be much too busy with family business for the next few weeks to have any time for Esther. I used to play with her quite often before we went off for the summer. She has quite an establishment at the Drake and likes a weekly game in the afternoon. She usually plays for a penny a point, but you can settle that between you. Are you interested?”

  “It sounds like rich pickings unless she’s awfully good. Why not?”

  “I’ll call her. Let her fix the stakes as high as she likes. You have nothing to worry about.”

  Billy made the call and, after explaining that he had found a good player, turned the phone over to Perry. He talked to a woman with a businesslike voice and made a date at her hotel for the next afternoon at 4:30. That left the better part of the day to give to Henry.

  Perry arrived promptly at the studio for work. He soon had the place so well-organized that he had time for Henry to show him something about the lights before he had to leave for his bridge date. He offered to come again the next day.

  “I don’t know why I thought I could get started without you,” Henry said. “You’re really interested, aren’t you?”

  “Very much so. I envy you — having a profession that’s sort of like a hobby. Of course, you’re talented. That makes a difference.”

  “I’m not sure. George is a big talent. There’s no doubt about that, but you could learn everything I know in a month and go into business for yourself. You have a feel for it. I’d like to see what you do with models. Would you consider taking a regular job as my assistant? I was planning to get started on my own, but I realize I’d work better and get more done with somebody like you to help. I can’t pay more than forty dollars a week, at least until I see how things are going. Is there a chance you’d be interested?”

  “I’ll say.” This was the sort of thing Perry had been hoping for. With no background or training, he had a chance to pick up a profession that fascinated him. Bet would like his being a photographer. “What hours will you want me to work?”

  “The usual, I guess. Let’s say 9 to 5, with plenty of flexibility to fit in with whatever’s going on. I suppose I’ll close on Saturdays. This is wonderful. I’m lucky to have found you.”

  “I’m lucky you found me. Shall we call tomorrow my first day at work?”

  He had a worthwhile job at last. It made playing bridge seem more respectable. The other three players were well-dressed, self-confident middle-aged women who took the game seriously without being forbiddingly good at it. He won almost fifty dollars.

  His partner’s name was Nora Angstrom, and she asked him to join a group that met every Sunday afternoon at her place at the St. Regis. Listening to the ladies gossiping, he got the impression that the city was teeming with affluent widows living in luxury hotels who were looking for a fourth at bridge. Not for the first time, he realized it could be the source of a useful supplemental income and accepted Mrs. Angstrom’s invitation. He had to have money coming in when Bet arrived, and he didn’t like being entirely dependent on Billy when he was going against his wishes.

  He told Billy about the job the next evening over drinks before going to meet Madge for dinner. Billy beamed.

  “I’m delighted, my dearest. It sounds just like the thing for you, a real opportunity, not just a way to fill the day.”

  “Exactly. You’ve spoiled me for the routine office job that I probably wouldn’t be able to get anyway. I’m interested in photography, and I’m friendly enough with Henry for him to show me how everything works.”

  “It sounds perfect.”

  “I’m thrilled.”

  “I imagine the next step is finding a flat. You know I love having you here, but I’m not going to let myself become too dependent on you. Shall I have the office look up some possibilities for you?”

  “I don’t want much. Something small in this neighborhood. I want a furnished place.”

  “You don’t want your own furniture?”

  “Not yet. I’ve never really lived here. I’ll just take my time.” He couldn’t yet tell him that he wanted to wait for Bet before buying anything, and Billy didn’t make a point of it.

  “Here we are, settling,” Billy said with a shrug of resignation. “You wouldn’t have wanted to go back to France now in any case. Once we get Bet here, I’m going to enjoy New York. I’m sure you will too. Everything has a silver lining, as the song says.”

  “I hope you don’t miss France too much, but I’m glad you can’t go. Just in the weeks we’ve been back, I’m beginning to feel at home in a way I didn’t before we left. I’ve been meeting people I like. I’m being taken to dinner tonight by a lady. It’s Madge Constant. Do you know her? She’s pretty well-known as a nightclub singer. She’s a knockout.”

  “You’ll know all the people who’re doing things. It’s exciting to watch you and know I found you first.”

  “Found me and gave me a chance to make something of myself, such as it is. Henry thinks I could be a pretty good photographer.”

  “This is a big city. It’s typical of you to find exactly what you want in it and get right down to business.”

  “The trick now is to make the studio a success. Will you come in and let Henry take some pictures of you?”

  “I hate having my picture taken, but I’ll do it for a worthy cause. Make an appointment for me, and I’ll be there.”

  Perry began to get used to keeping an engagement book and having engagements to put in it. He was dazzled by having an intimate dinner with Cole Porter in his opulent apartment high in the sky at the Waldorf Towers. The fact that he looked like an absentminded frog and had been seriously crippled by the accident on a horse didn’t bother Perry. He had written “Begin the Beguine” and every other song Perry had ever hummed and was the embodiment of all the city’s glamour.

  He made Perry promise to call as soon as he had a phone number of his own and told him he was looking forward to seeing a lot of him.

  He had an elegant dinner at Clifton Webb’s, where he met Barbara Stanwyck. After another week he felt as if he knew everybody in town and was beginning to sort them out. Most of them formed part of an attractive, increasingly familiar background.

  Madge had a great chum named Johnny Jardine, and they began to go out frequently as a trio. Sex was a hurdle until Johnny began to joke about the effect Perry had on him, and then they forgot about it. Johnny had a big apartment on 70th Street, complete with a manservant named Hillman. It was the way Perry would like to live with Bet.

  After looking around and taking his time, Perry moved into two rooms on Madison Avenue at 61st Street, for which he didn’t have to sign a lease. It looked clean and freshly decorated, and the furniture was inoffensive.

  His new telephone began to ring as Laszlo redirected calls to him. One of the first was from Timmy, just off the boat and still breathless from the excitement of crossing under wartime conditions. He was late for school and had to go right through, but they talked about his coming
back for a weekend as soon as school and his funds permitted.

  He wrote Bet about the apartment he would be in when she arrived, and she wrote constantly about all the changes in her sailing dates. They changed from one letter to the next. Billy reported regularly on the latest changes, usually a week or so after Perry already knew them.

  His bridge games led to others, and he soon took it for granted that he would be able to win between one hundred and two hundred dollars a week, depending on whom he played with. Getting to be known around town as a professional cardplayer seemed to him like a step down the social ladder rather than up. He limited himself to one or two games a week and devoted most of his time to the studio, which began to attract business.

  He had a big drinking night with Lucius Beebe, and a few days later Lucius referred to him in his column as “the well-known connoisseur of fine vintages.” He met a mild middle-aged man named Maurey Paul, who wrote a society column under the name of Cholly Knickerbocker. Perry got a mention in his column too. He sent the clippings to Bet to show her that the way was being prepared for her.

  With a job and a place to live taken care of, he had nothing left to do but wait and hope the time would pass quickly. Henry encouraged him increasingly to take over for him in the studio. He began to get good results with his own camera, and his ideas for unconventional shots were frequently effective. With all the help Henry could give him, he thought he might make a pretty good photographer.

  Bet turned eighteen. Bet wrote that December 12 had been finally fixed as the sailing date and that she would be boarding the boat in Holland. A letter followed a few days later saying that December 8 was the definite sailing date from Cherbourg. It was typical of the way the war was going that nowhere in Europe was yet closed to travel. People were beginning to call it a phony war.

  Madge became an almost daily companion, and Perry shared all Bet’s secrets with her. She arranged for him to be invited to a debutante ball of a friend of hers, and they got all dressed up — Perry in his tails — and went to the Plaza, where the ballroom had been rented for the occasion.

  “You might as well see how we socialites amuse ourselves,” she said. “I think debutante balls are a thing of the past. Everybody’s beginning to complain about the income tax. They say if we get in the war, nobody will be able to afford anything anymore.”

  It was a lavish affair, with Eddy Duchin’s band and an inexhaustible supply of champagne and every other sort of drink. He had crashed society.

  “Are you bored to tears?” Madge asked.

  “Far from it,” Perry said. “In my vulgar way, I was thinking how much it must’ve cost.”

  “The whole point of these things is to show off how much you can spend. You should’ve gone to Brenda Frazier’s bash in the spring.”

  “I didn’t know her then or have you to introduce me to society.”

  November started on a cheerful note when Henry told him that he was going to raise his salary. “You should be getting at least four times what I give you, but I can’t do anything above that. You keep the place going and bring in more than half the business. I just want you to know I appreciate it, for whatever that’s worth. All I can do about it is put you up to fifty a week. May be when I pay off some debts, I can make it more. I’d like to.”

  “Thanks, Henry. What I’m learning is worth another fifty a week. You can count that.”

  “If you’re going to figure like that, I’ll let you do the Wilder job this afternoon and call it an extra-special bonus.”

  The subject of money cropped up again when he met Billy for his birthday dinner.

  “That’s the paper we talked about in London,” Billy explained, handing him a legal-looking document. “The lawyers say that it gives you a valid claim on my inheritance as soon as I get it.” With his head cocked, Billy’s eyes widened with self-satisfaction. He looked like a benevolent bird. “Now, shall we have a bottle of champagne to celebrate your approaching old age?” He rang for Laszlo, who was working in the evening now, and the bottle was brought with a bucket of ice. “Bring a glass for yourself, Laszlo. You have to toast the old man.”

  “Am I allowed to toast?” Perry asked. “I want to drink to lots more birthdays with the present company.” And with Bet too, he thought to himself.

  When Laszlo left them, Billy produced the familiar Tiffany box. It contained a heavy chain of chunky gold links. “I wanted you to have one all summer. I noticed the men are wearing jewelry much more than they used to. Gold on your manly chest, especially when you’re tanned, will make everybody swoon.”

  “It’s a beauty, Billy. I can hardly lift it. I’ll soon be worth my weight in precious metal.”

  December began with a letter in which Bet announced to Perry that she probably wouldn’t write again. She expected to board a cargo boat in a few days. “You’ll probably hear me coming. I’ll be shouting with joy the entire way. I won’t even mind if we don’t make it for Christmas as long as I’m heading in that direction. Tell Mum her travel arrangements are making me crazy. Oh, darling, you’ve got to marry me and rescue me from her.”

  Arlene took charge of her arrival to the extent that any human power could. She had plans for what they would do if the boat made it for Christmas and a different set of plans for post-Christmas celebrations. They all involved family and excluded Perry. He was amazed that nobody suspected him of taking anything more than a friendly interest.

  Christmas was only two weeks away when Billy heard from the shipping line that Bet’s boat had reached North Africa, where it would be delayed at least a week. “She’s having a winter cruise,” Billy said cheerfully. “Are you plotting anything special for Christmas?”

  “Not really. The usual parties. Nothing I can’t live without.”

  “I know what. Let’s have a picnic. I’ll get pounds of caviar and a whole foie gras, and we’ll gorge ourselves. Would you like that?”

  “It’s the best offer I’ve had so far. You can count on me.”

  As being with her again approached, Perry began to get nervous. May be it had been a beautiful illusion that would turn out to be too fragile to survive the strain of their long separation.

  Only two days before Christmas, Billy reported from the shipping line that the boat was just leaving Casablanca. “At least she’s safely clear of Europe. They say the crossing may take ten days.”

  They had caviar for Christmas, and Perry decided to go ahead and make plans for New Year’s Eve as though he didn’t expect Bet to be there. He didn’t ask Billy for any more news so as not to appear overeager, and none was forthcoming until the dead week after Christmas was almost over, when Billy volunteered the latest from the line.

  “I don’t think they really know themselves, but they say it’ll be the first couple of days of January. I remind myself that at least she’s safe, to keep myself from fretting pointlessly.”

  Perry made a round of New Year’s Eve parties and stayed up all night, hoping it would be the last evening he would be at loose ends.

  He picked up the phone at the studio two days later to hear a voice saying, “I want an emergency appointment to have my picture taken before my hair turns white.”

  He stared at the instrument in a paralysis of delight and then let out a whoop of joy. “My God, it’s you!” he cried. “I don’t believe it. This is an awfully good connection for Casablanca. Where are you?”

  “At the Lombardy. I don’t believe it either. It’s taken me half my life to get here, and then nobody’s here expecting me. That stupid boat. They wouldn’t take our cables unless they had something to do with somebody being dead.”

  “But sweetheart — you’re here. I’ve got to see you. When did you get here?”

  “Just this minute. We’ve been waiting since dawn to be allowed off the boat. They treated us like the fifth column. Mummy has me tied up for the day already — or so she thinks. I’ll have to have lunch with her, but then I’ll escape. We can talk about the rest of the day later. If
you call, don’t ask for me by name, or you might get Mummy. Ask for 302. That’s the room. I want to see where you’re living. My hideaway. When are you going to have your vile man’s way with me?”

  “Right now. Or do I have to wait for you to have lunch?”

  “This is too exciting to be true. Talking to you. Oh, dear, I can’t think straight. No, darling, I have to wait till after lunch. Can you be at your place by 4? She can’t keep me later than that.”

  “I’ll be there. Don’t hang up. Talk to me. Tell me you’re still mad about me. Have you been getting all my letters?”

  “I don’t think there’ve been any gaps. You’ve been very good, much better than I thought men ever were. I don’t know what would’ve become of me if you hadn’t been. It was such a shock being without you. Do you realize it’s been over four months? Oh, darling, I am mad about you. Do you suppose it’s still mutual?”

  “It must be. I’ve checked with you every day about everything I’ve done. You’ve been with me the entire time.”

  “I hope I haven’t been a nuisance. Did I make frightful scenes whenever you wanted a girl?”

  “I hoped you wouldn’t notice, but you didn’t let me get away with anything. The beauties in New York think I’m a dud.”

  “A likely story. Never mind. I’ll find out everything in no time.”

  “Oh, sweetheart, you’re here, but you’re not here. This is worse than your being in Casablanca. For God’s sake, go have lunch and get that over with. I know you won’t be allowed to put off your grandmother tonight, so we’re not going to have much time anyway. I want to hear all about everything. I told your mother we arranged in Saint-Tropez for me to show you all the places you’d heard about, so that isn’t a secret. I didn’t tell her we were writing all the time. She’ll be so busy finding presentable men for you that she won’t think much about me. Just avoid mentioning me as much as possible.”

  “Here we go again, leading our secret life in full view of everybody. Do you think either of us is going to be able to hang up?”