by Diana Palmer
“You asked for it,” Marlene said haughtily. “Parading around in tight jeans and low-cut blouses!”
“They were all I had! Your castoffs!” she choked. “You let them handle me...!”
Marlene let out an angry breath. “Don’t carry on so,” she snapped. “You weren’t raped or anything.”
“I was handled!” Her lower lip trembled as she stared with wounded eyes at her mother. “You can’t imagine how repulsive men were to me because of that. And you laughed about it, so drunk you could hardly sit up at all, you and your lecherous boyfriends!”
“You’re exaggerating, as usual.” Marlene refused to argue. She lit another cigarette. “I want to go shopping tomorrow,” she said. “Then we can go out to eat, somewhere fancy.” Her pale eyes lit up. “21, maybe, or Sardi’s.”
“Wrong decade,” Ivory said tersely. “Try The Four Seasons.”
Marlene shrugged. “Whatever.” She turned on the television and moved the dial to the shopping channel, grinning as she saw the merchandise being offered. “Look, isn’t that pretty!”
She sat down, captivated by the screen, while Ivory stood beside her and watched her watch television. Marlene wasn’t a conversationalist. She liked soap operas and talk shows, and not much else. When she wasn’t glued to the television screen or having her hair done at the beauty parlor, she was reading pulp magazines or drinking. She had no intellectual life and very little social life because her looks no longer attracted men.
Ivory could have wept as she studied the other woman and compared her to Curry’s fiercely loving mother who would have sacrificed anything for her children. Marlene wouldn’t have given up a bottle of nail varnish to buy a carton of milk for a hungry infant.
“Didn’t you ever want me?” Ivory asked aloud in a hushed tone.
“What?” Marlene wasn’t listening. “Look at this watch, Ivory. I sure would love to have one like that. I’ll look when we’re out shopping. Get me a drink.”
“I don’t have anything alcoholic.”
“Then go out and buy me a bottle!” Marlene snapped. “I’m not going without my gin.”
Ivory grabbed her purse and went out the door, blind and deaf as she stalked down the hall with cold resignation. Neighbors called to her but she didn’t answer. Her mind, like her spirit, was tied in knots.
She tried to phone Curry but he wouldn’t talk to her. His secretary at work, and then his valet at the apartment, gave her the same message over and over until she finally accepted defeat and stopped trying.
“Won’t the big boss talk to you?” Marlene asked, hefting another slug of gin to her mouth. “Poor baby!”
“Why don’t you get help?” Ivory asked as she looked down at the woman who had borne her. “Don’t you even realize that you have a drinking problem?”
“This isn’t a problem! It’s the solution.” Marlene toasted her before she swallowed, smiling dizzily. “It feels good. I can’t do without it, and I don’t have to. I’ve got you to take care of me.” She lay back in the chair with a satisfied sigh. “You don’t want me to tell your friends that you neglect me.”
“Why not?” Ivory said heavily. “You’ve been telling people that all my life.”
“All your fault,” Marlene said heavily. “Never wanted to get married, never wanted to get pregnant. You made me get married. You ruined my life!”
“You let it happen!” she shot back, sick of being accused for something she hadn’t done. “You did! You could have said no, couldn’t you?”
Marlene blinked. It wasn’t like Ivory to talk back. This was an odd situation. She frowned. “He said he’d buy me a new dress if I let him,” she explained. “A pretty one, with embroidery on the hem.”
Ivory folded her arms over her breasts. “That’s why I’m here? Because you wanted a new dress?”
“More or less.”
“Didn’t you love Dad?”
“For about ten minutes, I did,” Marlene said, laughing at her little joke. “But he was always in a hurry. I never even had any fun doing it with him.” She sprawled her arms. “Now Larry could make love!” she said, recalling her rich boyfriend. “And he bought me pretty things. But he died.” She lifted her head and looked at Ivory. “So now, you can take care of me.”
“Why can’t you take care of yourself?” Ivory asked her.
Marlene’s eyes widened as if this were some foreign language. “What?”
“Get a job,” Ivory said. “Go to work.”
“What would I do? Pick cotton?” she chided.
“Why not? You made me do it,” Ivory returned coldly. “You put me to work on your boyfriend’s place with the day laborers and took off for Corpus Christi with him on a fishing trip!”
“Hard work never hurt anybody.”
“You’d know all about that!” Ivory could hardly breathe through her anger. “But what you didn’t know was that I felt like part of a family with those people. The Gonzalezes taught me how to speak Spanish like a native, and the Joneses treated me like one of their own kids.”
“Don’t I know it!” Marlene said with contempt. “You didn’t even think of yourself as white when you started to high school. Always sitting with the colored children and the Mexican kids instead of your own kind!”
“Careful, Mother dear,” Ivory said coolly. “These days, it’s not politically correct to spew racial hatred. In fact, it can get you into a lot of trouble in New York City.”
Marlene made a sound in her throat. “Naturally!” She sat up. “Tell me, honey, do you mix with that sort up here? Or do you play the rich society girl to the hilt, right down to avoiding everybody who doesn’t belong to a country club?”
Ivory thought about the shelter and Tim and his mother and sisters, and Mrs. Payne, and the other people who lived there. She didn’t even bother to answer Marlene. It didn’t matter. The woman was three sheets to the wind already and getting stiffer by the minute. Eventually she’d start falling down and then she’d be sick, and then she’d sleep. It was the old pattern, all over again. Ivory had never felt so alone or so frightened, despite the fact that she was coping better than ever before. She wanted Curry in her most desperate hour, but Curry wouldn’t even speak to her.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
IVORY HAD AN unexpected telephone call from Curry early on Monday morning. She was worn-out after spending the weekend escorting her mother from one side of New York to the other and buying her things that she couldn’t really afford. But the alternative to the spending was too dreadful to contemplate. That was, if her mother could do any more damage than she already had.
“How did your weekend go?” Curry asked, when she answered her phone. “Is your mother enjoying her visit?”
“I took her shopping,” she said in a toneless voice. She resented his assumption that her mother was the victim. It was the old story, but she’d never expected Curry to be taken in. If his own mother had been less compassionate, perhaps he wouldn’t have been fooled by Marlene. She had to remember that people who’d known Ivory all her life believed Marlene’s lies. That made it a little easier to bear Curry’s contempt.
“I’m sure she enjoyed it. If you take some time to get to know her, you may discover that her life hasn’t been a bed of roses, either. Sometimes we take our parents for granted. We shouldn’t. Mothers make tremendous sacrifices for their children.”
She wondered how anyone could have taken Marlene for granted, and Marlene had never made any sacrifices that weren’t to her advantage. But she didn’t say that. She didn’t say anything.
“I thought you might like Friday off, since it will be her last day in town,” he added. “We’re rushed, but I won’t begrudge you some free time.”
“That’s very thoughtful of you,” she said stiffly. “Thank you.”
“Don’t forget the talk show next Monday night.”
“What is there to explain?” he asked in a silky-smooth tone. “I knew everything the minute I realized who your mother was. You played me for a fool, Ivory.”
“I didn’t mean to,” she began. “I only wanted...!”
“You were looking for a boot up the ladder. After all, fame is all you really wanted, isn’t it? You’ve got it. You’ll get even more as you go along. By the way, you don’t have to worry about your job, if that was concerning you,” he added. “You’re worth a lot to the company. Although I hope you realize that your value to me personally has taken a nosedive, ‘rich little girl from Louisiana.’”
The tone cut. “I wanted to be somebody!”
“And you will be,” he said. “This television appearance almost guarantees it. You told me that you wanted to be rich and famous, Ivory. But you never told me why. I didn’t know you came from poverty.”
“You still don’t know everything,” she challenged.
“I know that you’re ashamed of your background, and of your mother, and that you lied about both to me,” he said icily. “That’s what I hold against you most. How could you be callous enough to turn your back on her when you became a success? She deserves to share in your good fortune. But you took her for granted, Ivory.”
“That will be the day,” she murmured.
“Don’t joke about it. You’re not the woman I thought you were. All of it was an act, wasn’t it? Your concern for me, the lovemaking, your work at the shelter—none of it was from the heart. You were playing a part to get you what you wanted. Well, you’ve got it. I hope it was worth the price you had to pay.”
What I wanted, she corrected silently, was you. Maybe I wanted protection against Marlene, too. But she didn’t say it. He wasn’t in a listening mood. He was wounded and he was going to withdraw like a wounded animal.
“I’m sorry you won’t listen,” she said quietly.
“I’ve listened once too often already,” he said coldly. He hung up, and she went back to her designs; but her heart wasn’t in her work. Her dreams of success had been nebulous, but they had included being with Curry and sharing it all with him. They also had included being able to use the money she earned to do things other than buy her greedy mother luxuries.
Mr. Johnson’s wheelchair was wearing out and she knew that the elderly couple couldn’t afford to replace it. That was one of her projects. She had other small projects going in the neighborhood shelter, such as organizing a small cooperative among the people at the shelter who could do crafts. Curry knew nothing about that. But he knew nothing about her, either, she decided angrily.
“Don’t forget you’re taking the buyer from the Chic Boutiques chain out to lunch,” Dee reminded her.
She caught her breath. “But I’ve got my mother...”
“Take her with you—Curry won’t mind. Use the company’s corporate card. You have yours, surely?”
“Yes, but...”
“He won’t mind. Trust me.” Dee paused by her desk. “You really are afraid of your mother, aren’t you?”
She looked down at the cost estimates on her desk. “Everyone believed her, the minute she opened her mouth. It’s been like that all my life. Back home, she convinced everyone that I was a tramp, a cheat, a liar.” She looked up into her friend’s concerned face. “I changed my name, I changed my voice, I changed my address...but I’m still me, Dee,” she said heavily. “I can’t change me.”
Dee laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Why should you want to? You’re a warm, kind, sharing person. I like you.”
“You believed her,” she accused tartly.
Dee chuckled. “Did I? Oh, Ivory, I saw right through her. She smirked when she told us you never wrote or called. I’ve known people like her before. She’s a good actress—she should have gone on the stage. But she didn’t fool me.”
“She fooled Curry.”
“He loves his mother,” Dee reminded her. “He’s got one of the really rare kind, the old-fashioned kind that every child longs for. My mother was a journalist. She never cooked or cleaned—I did. She went looking for new stories, and I took care of my little sister and did the housework. I’d have given my eyeteeth for a mother like Curry’s.”
“So would I,” Ivory said fervently. “She’s everything I dreamed of when I was little. But my mother isn’t like that. He won’t listen when I try to explain.”
“Give him time. He’s hot-tempered, but in the end, he’s reasonable.”
She remembered his mother saying the same thing. He’d know the truth one day, but it would be too late. Meanwhile, Ivory had to live with her mother’s demands and Curry’s contempt. She was painted as a gold digger who coveted nothing more than wealth and power. Yet nothing could be further from the truth.
“I don’t know if he’ll ever believe me now,” Ivory said wearily. “How can I blame him? My mother has fooled plenty of other people over the years. My big mistake was trying to hide my past in the first place. You can’t run away, can you?”
“Not really,” Dee agreed. “You have to learn from the past and go on from there. We’re the sum total of our experiences, good and bad. But steel has to be tempered in fire, remember.” She smiled. “Good times never shaped anyone’s character.”
“I guess not. Mine should be sterling bright in that case, because I don’t remember any good times. My mother hated me from the day I was born. I’ll never escape her. Never!”
“Don’t talk like that. You’ll cope. You can do anything you have to. She’ll go back home, you know. Everything will be all right when she leaves. Curry will cool down and you can explain it to him.”
“No, I can’t. His mother loved him and sacrificed for him. He couldn’t imagine some of the things my mother did to me. I’m afraid of her,” she added, shaking her head. “I know it’s cowardly, but I can’t help it. She’s my worst enemy.” She looked up. “She drinks, and when she’s had enough, she does irrational things. I’m so afraid that she might try to go to the newspapers.”
“You’re not that well-known yet, thank God,” Dee chuckled. “Don’t borrow things to worry about. Take her out to lunch with you to meet the buyer. It will be an experience for her.”
“Okay,” she said. “I suppose I might as well.”
She gave in. She could just imagine how her mother was going to react to having lunch with one of the top buyers in the country.
Marlene was on her best behavior. She’d downed a goodly portion of her quart of gin in the three nights since she’d been in residence. But either she was able to hold it better than she had when Ivory was a child or she’d grown immune to its effects, because she hadn’t been staggering drunk, and she hadn’t been sick or hungover.
Marlene waltzed into the exclusive restaurant with her daughter to greet the young, elegant buyer from a chain of upscale boutiques and immediately took over the conversation, knowledgeably and with a sophistication that surprised her daughter. Even her drawl was less pronounced. It could be that she was almost sober, for a change.
“Of course my daughter doesn’t give me credit for any intelligence,” she told the other woman with a dewy smile. “But I know the clothing industry very well, in fact. I enjoy the fashion magazines.”
“You must be very proud of Ivory,” the buyer said. “She’s come up the ladder quickly at Kells-Meredith, and on the strength of real talent, too.”
Ivory thanked the woman politely, and Marlene seethed.
“Oh, you have the creative ability to go far in the industry,” the buyer continued. “We’re very impressed with your new collection. I understand that Saks and Neiman Marcus placed large orders.”
Ivory nodded. “Yes, they did. I was overwhelmed.”
Marlene made a noise, distracting the conversation to herself. “I think I’d like a cocktail.”
Ivory caught the eye of a waiter and ordered coffee for herself, leaving the drinks to the other two women.
“Don’t you drink, Ivory?” the buyer asked with a smile.
“No.” The word was flat and unapologetic. Marlene gave her a hard look, but she refrained from making any comments.
The conversation revolved, naturally, around high fashion, and Ivory managed to hold her ground despite her mother’s interference. Marlene gave the corporate credit card a hard look when Ivory brought it out to pay for their meal, but the comment about her status that Ivory expected was never made.
“If I’d had your chances when I was your age, I’d certainly have made more of them than you have,” Marlene said when they were on their way back to the apartment in the limousine Ivory had hired. That, too, was Curry’s idea.
“I make the most of my chances,” Ivory said. “I’m doing very well.”
Marlene sprawled back against the soft leather with a hard laugh. “And living in Queens?” she chided.
“Queens is the best place to live,” Ivory replied stiffly. “I have good neighbors and I feel safe where I am.”
“No men, of course.”
Ivory looked at her mother coldly. “You had enough for both of us.”
Marlene’s face hardened, and Ivory knew that if it hadn’t been for the driver’s glance in the rearview mirror, she’d probably have been slapped for the comment. It occurred to her, however, that this time she was willing to hit back. That reaction was as new as the self-confidence even Marlene hadn’t been able to shake.
“Brave, aren’t you?” her mother asked icily.
“Well, I don’t see much to be afraid of,” Ivory replied evenly with a look that clearly expressed her opinion of the older woman.
There was a sharply in-drawn breath. “You little tramp!”
Ivory managed a cool smile. “Temper, temper.”
“You’ll pay for that, my girl,” Marlene said under her breath. “Oh, but you will!”
