Sins of Omission

by Fern Michaels

  “That’s none of your business, and it’s not what you think,” Reuben said gently. “Let’s just enjoy the evening, shall we?”

  “Well, for heaven’s sake, Reuben, you must admit his lip color is pretty vibrant…everyone know she’s a flaming—”

  “For God’s sake, lower your voice. Where did you hear that?”

  “From my father, who got it from some of the men he—I can’t believe you’d have anything to do with those big eyes and rouged cheeks. Sweet, my foot,” Bebe snarled.

  Reuben tried changing the subject. “There must be at least two hundred people here,” he said, his eyes scouring the room.

  For the next two hours Bebe and Reuben were approached by directors and producers, actors and actresses, from all the major studios and from Fairmont. Not a moment passed without someone either waving in their direction or stopping at the cozy table. At one point champagne was brought over, compliments of Paramount.

  “Sometimes it’s embarrassing to wave or greet someone you don’t really know,” Reuben blurted out after their waiter had placed pheasant under glass for two in front of them. “I recognize their faces, but I really don’t know too many of these people personally.”

  “That’s all right,” Bebe reassured him. “It’s obvious they know you. You wouldn’t have been invited otherwise. They’re all watching you, or me in this red dress. Our party started the ball rolling, and now…just smile, like you’re enjoying things. Don’t you understand, it’s all a game. You’re becoming well known in this town. My father used to be invited to occasions like this all the time; then the invitations stopped, he refused to conform, it’s that simple. I guess it’s your turn. Just don’t give them what they think they want.”

  “What’s that?” Reuben asked, puzzled.

  “Any indication that you’re going to get the jump on them. It’s too early yet to do that. I told you, it’s a game,” Bebe said quietly. “One by one they’ll all come around to you. You were invited here for a reason, Reuben. Just relax and enjoy the limelight.”

  Reuben looked at her long and hard, studying her as she smiled and waved to people and spoke to them with a smooth social ease. She was born and bred for this, he mused.

  “Eyes are boring into your back,” Bebe whispered.

  “I know.” Reuben chuckled; he was beginning to enjoy himself.

  Zukor and deMille were next, asking him and Bebe to join them for dinner. “We’d love to, but we have another engagement.”

  “You’re leaving!” Zukor said in surprise.

  “What could be more important than this opening?” deMille asked, abashed.

  Reuben just smiled and raised his champagne glass to them. He was still smiling when Bebe kicked him.

  “What do you mean, we’re leaving? We just got here and we’ve just been served…I’m hungry. When you take a girl out you’re supposed to feed her.”

  “All right, we’ll stay just a few more minutes, until dinner is over. But remember—always leave them wanting more. After we’re gone they’ll have something to talk about. Not that you need to know, but I’ll tell you anyway: I won’t be lunching with Assaro, at least not this week. Feel better?”

  “He’ll eat you alive. Look, there’s the guy he’s been known to hang around with. Eli knows him. In fact, I think Eli gets most of…of his merchandise from him. Russell Stark. He’s a married man,” “Bebe concluded virtuously.

  Reuben grinned and shook his head. “Let’s say good night to our host. Do you see him?”

  “Who could fail to miss those teeth? Real teeth can’t ever be that white,” she said.

  All in all, Reuben thought, it was an interesting evening. He’d even enjoyed Bebe’s company and her sour comments on the host. He’d gotten some insight from her, too. Maybe the boss’s daughter could be helpful to him in more ways than he thought. She was just as radiant and socially adept as she’d been at Fairmont’s party. Only tonight she didn’t have all those birds to contend with. He laughed to himself at the memory as Ramone Assaro rushed up to them.

  “But darlings, you can’t leave! You’ll miss my grand entertainment. Duke Ellington”—Assaro smiled—“has promised to give us an evening we won’t forget. You can’t leave,” he said coolly. “No one ever leaves my clubs before the wee hours of the morning.”

  Reuben smiled his most charming smile. “Being first at something carries its own rewards. Thank you for inviting us. I’ll look forward to lunch.”

  “Good night,” Bebe said sweetly, so sweetly Reuben wanted to laugh.

  They left then, ushered out by the same liveried footmen in their red and white outfits. They didn’t see Assaro’s jaw drop or his worried glances as he searched out the other men of prominence in the room. The last thing he needed was to have a handsome man start a new trend by leaving early.

  It wasn’t quite midnight when Reuben swung the studio car alongside the Rosen front entrance. It looked pretty at night, with the moonlight bathing everything in a silvery glow. He knew there would be dew on the grass because the crickets were chirping and chattering, the sound coming from the gardens in back of the house. The mansion was ablaze with light, and he couldn’t help wondering which rooms Eli and Sol were in, or if they were still awake. He felt it a blatant waste of money to burn so many lights.

  “Oh, look, Reuben, a shooting star!” Bebe whispered. Reuben looked upward to the star-filled sky and smiled. He’d seen it, too.

  “Now we have to make a wish, each one of us,” Bebe said in a hushed voice. “Shooting-star wishes always come true. My mother told me that when I was a little girl. Close your eyes tight and wish.” Bebe closed her own eyes and wished…for Reuben to love her as much as she loved him. She risked a glance at him from under her thick lashes. His eyes were closed and he wore a fierce look.

  Mickey…please respond to my letters and reassure me of your love. Reuben felt silly but hopeful…and if she didn’t…Bebe would assure him a new place in paradise.

  “I’ll tell you my wish if you tell me yours,” Bebe urged.

  “If I tell you my wish, it won’t come true,” Reuben said.

  “Are you going to kiss me good night?” she asked plaintively.

  “I hadn’t thought much about it,” Reuben said. It was a lie: he’d been thinking of nothing else on the ride home. Thinking about how soft her lips were, how her arms would feel around his neck, how sweet she smelled. How she was the boss’s daughter, and whatever Sol owned would eventually belong to Bebe.

  “You better make up your mind pretty quick, Reuben, because I’m going into the house. There really aren’t any rules, you know…about kissing, I mean. Girls kind of expect it, men want to but aren’t sure if they’ll get slapped. I expect it and won’t slap you.” She looked up at him, wide-eyed and expectant. “Well?”

  Reuben got out of the car and opened the door for her. “When I want to kiss you, or anyone else for that matter, it will be because I want to, not because it’s expected.”

  “Oh, poo. Stop being so starchy and stiff. You don’t have to kiss me. I’ll continue to live if you don’t, so don’t go thinking it’s an earth-shattering decision. I had a very nice time this evening. I think I did, anyway. I still don’t understand why we had to leave just when the evening was starting to warm up. I think it was—”

  “Don’t think, Bebe. I know what I’m doing. Ah…it was nice of you to go with me. Maybe next time we’ll stay longer.”

  Bebe’s sagging spirits lifted. He’d said next time. That had to mean he was going to ask her out again. She was going to have to learn patience.

  “Good night, Reuben. Sleep well.”

  Before he could turn, she reached up and brushed her lips softly against his. Before he could draw back, she was gone.

  In the car driving back to his apartment, all kinds of doubts skittered through Reuben’s head. She was so young, so beautiful…charming, actually. He’d enjoyed her company and knew he would have kissed her if she hadn’t asked him so b
luntly. She’d wanted him to kiss her. And then that silly business with the wish. What had she wished for? He’d give up a good deal to know. What would she have done if he’d told her what he wished for? She would have clawed his eyes out. The thought amused him, and he smiled. The smile was still with him when he let himself into the quiet apartment.

  In the darkness of his room, with only the moon sifting through the curtains, he finally relaxed. He was moving now, upward. If he could keep up his momentum, he would make it to the top. In the stillness of his room, he analyzed his assets. Youth and his own brand of maturity, his ability to keep a poker face in business dealings, his moxie, as Sol called it. His ability to be ruthless would be his strongest point. If he wanted to survive in this business, he would have to nurture that particular trait. Then and there, he made up his mind that he would be ruthless up front and try to be fair behind the scenes. He couldn’t ask more of himself.

  Sleep reached out to Reuben then, soft and warm, welcoming him to that peaceful place where all worries and doubts seemed to fall away. In time he dreamed, images following one after the other. Mickey walking hand in hand with him, dropping his hand, running from him. Mickey offering him a glass of wine and then taking it back, running from him. Mickey holding out her arms to him and then turning to run away. Always he stood rooted to the ground, a disbelieving look on his face. His feet wouldn’t move. He was stuck in something…his own inadequacy. “Mickey, Mickey,” he muttered in his sleep. “Don’t you care? Can’t you see that you’ve broken my heart? Mickey, please, come back.”

  In the morning he wouldn’t remember the dream. It was too painful.

  “It’s not that late, Bebe,” Eli coaxed. “As soon as I heard the car I went downstairs and fixed us some cocoa.”

  Bebe let herself be drawn into Eli’s austere bedroom. At night, with the lamps lit, it didn’t seem so cold and unfriendly.

  “I had a good time,” she offered, kicking off her shoes. She curled up on Eli’s pillows like a cat snuggling for warmth by the fire.

  “Who was there? What did they have to eat? I know I can read about it tomorrow, but hearing it from you will be better.”

  “It looked like a movie set, that’s how perfect it was. There were hundreds of roses, all over the place, in vases, in baskets, decorating the tables in clumps. They were kind of nestled in some kind of waxy, green leaves. The tables were covered in snow-white satin to complement the roses. All the dishes were crystal and silver. It was almost blinding. We didn’t eat much, though.”

  Eli squirmed, inching closer to Bebe. “Why?”

  “They started to serve us, and we were leaving. Reuben wanted to leave, so I had to leave, too, but the food we sampled was scrumptious. It must have cost a fortune and taken days to prepare. Lobster, caviar, duckling, pheasant under glass, and lots of French wine. And before you can ask me, yes, there was liquor, and no, I don’t know where it came from. One of your…business associates was there, Russell Stark.”

  “Who else was there?”

  “Everyone, Eli, just everyone. Over two hundred people. All the bigshots, little shots, too.” She giggled. “But if you mean who was there from Fairmont, I can tell you we were well represented. Clovis Ames and a lot of the newer stars that signed on while I was abroad. All the bigwigs were there—Goldwyn, Selznick, Mayer, deMille, Zanuck, just everybody. Clovis was with Lester and Damian. Reuben spoke to some of the bigwigs, they sort of introduced themselves. You should have seen him, Eli. He looked so…professional, so…important and powerful…it sort of oozes out of him. Ramone couldn’t take his eyes off him, and some of the women there were positively smoldering when they looked at him. I felt very flattered to be with him. Then we left,” she finished flatly.

  They were curled up together on the bed, brother and sister, their arms entwined at the elbow.

  “But why? It sounds like it was just starting to liven up. Doesn’t make sense,” Eli grumbled. He didn’t want the night to be over, he wanted to keep Bebe to himself, to savor the closeness they’d lost.

  “Ramone did his best to coax him to stay. This young black man named Duke Ellington was scheduled to entertain. It was…heavenly. I just relaxed and enjoyed being with Reuben. It wasn’t anything like that disgusting party in Frisco.”

  “What time did you leave? It’s only a little after midnight now.”

  “Around eleven-fifteen.”

  “Did he kiss you good night?” Eli asked sourly.

  “No, he did not. He put me in my place, but I took it with good grace. I think he’ll ask me to go out again. I had such a wonderful time.” Bebe snuggled deeper into the crook of her brother’s arm. “We saw a shooting star and made a wish. Reuben wouldn’t tell me what he wished. If mine comes true, I’ll tell you, but only if it comes true.”

  Heads together, one dark, one fair, they slept.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Outside Château Fonsard a steady rhythmic rain was falling, a much-needed rain that made no sound. Rabbits scuttled to their warrens, squirrels to the leafy trees, and birds to their nests, where they tucked their heads under their wings to stave off the wetness.

  Inside Château Fonsard, in the newly decorated nursery, the only sound was the raspy breathing of Reuben Tarz’s son, who was fighting for his tiny life with every tortured breath. Silent prayers were being offered up by Mickey Fonsard, who sat on a rocking chair next to the sick infant.

  Standing in the doorway was the village doctor and Yvette, Philippe’s godmother.

  “I am exhausted with this vigil, and you, Yvette, look like the walking dead,” said the doctor. “How does Madame Fonsard do it? She hasn’t eaten or slept in over a week. I have seen patients on their deathbeds who look better. If the child does not—”

  “Do not even think such thoughts, Doctor,” Yvette whispered. “He will recover, he must, otherwise Michelene will lie down and die. You’re sure you’ve done everything? You’ve overlooked nothing? Some small method that perhaps escaped you?”

  “There is nothing. Do you think I like seeing this little one fighting for his life? If I had a magic potion, I would have used it long ago. The child is in God’s hands at the moment. Go home, Yvette, I will stay a while longer. Eat and try and get some rest. You’ll be no good to Madame if you get sick.”

  “I know what you say is true, but how can I leave my friend when things are so…It’s been a week, Doctor, and there’s been no change. His fever should have broken by now. Why is God doing this to them? Mickey is the kindest, the most gentle, generous person to walk the earth, and this little innocent, what has he done to deserve this terrible thing? I simply do not understand,” Yvette said fretfully.

  “I have no answers for you. Please, go home to your husband, he needs you, too.”

  Yvette wiped at her eyes. “And little Jake, what of him? Should I take him home, too?” At the sound of his name, the dog looked up, his tail thumping slightly on the floor. For the past week he’d stood sentinel at the door of Philippe’s room. From time to time he’d get up, stretch his thick body, and meander from room to room seeking out those scents of Daniel that still remained; but always he returned to his position at the door.

  “No, leave him. I think Madame gets a measure of comfort from him.”

  Yvette nodded and left. The doctor settled himself on a straightback chair he’d carried to the room from the kitchen. It wouldn’t do for him to get comfortable, for he might fall asleep. Again he marveled at Madame Fonsard’s stamina.

  An hour later two things happened simultaneously. Jake left his position in the doorway to settle himself next to Madame’s chair, and there was a soft knock on the kitchen door. Neither Mickey nor Jake stirred. The old doctor forced his weary body up from his chair and lumbered down the narrow staircase, knowing the person at the door was going to tell him he was needed elsewhere.

  The doctor had one arm into his rain slicker when he opened the door. A small boy of ten or so, soaked to the skin, looked up at the doct
or with fearful eyes. “My papa has had an accident, you must come.”

  “Yes, yes, hop into my car.” He didn’t look back. There was nothing more he could do here.

  In the nursery above, Mickey’s lips continued to move in silent prayer. At some point she’d noticed Jake lying by her side. One tired corner of her mind registered the fact that the dog had not entered the room since Yvette had brought him here. Her left hand dropped down to fondle the dog’s ears. As soon as she’d finished her rosary, she started mechanically on another. Hail Mary full of grace…he’s so little, so innocent…the Lord is…he shouldn’t be paying for other people’s sins…I wanted to send a cable to…With thee, blessed art thou…He could die…candie…and there is nothing…Among women and blessed…It is I who is being punished…. Why, why, what did I do that was so terrible?…Is the fruit of…Please, God, don’t let him die…Hail Mary full of grace…

  Jake’s ears shot up as he rose on his haunches. He looked around before he padded all about the room. When he was satisfied Mickey was asleep and that he was in charge, he moved closer to the baby’s crib. His head dropped to his paws, but he didn’t close his eyes. Something drove him to stay alert to the strange sounds coming from the sleeping child, sounds he’d heard all week now. His velvety ears shot up a second time when the rosary dropped from Mickey’s hands, and he was on his feet in an instant, padding around the room again, his eyes alert, his ears straight up. When he returned to take his position near the crib, he waited a moment, listening to the harsh sounds coming from the crib. His tail swished once and then was still.

  All through the night he watched the sleeping child, listening to the raspy breathing.

  Dawn was creeping close when Jake rose to walk the perimeters of the room. His ears shot upward and he stopped, his head cocked in the direction of a sound so faint he had to strain to hear it. His tail grew still, his body turning rigid when he heard the unfamiliar sound. He was at the crib now, his paws on the wooden bar running across the slats. The baby was choking, strangling on the thick mucus in his throat. Jake turned and began to paw at Mickey, trying to wake her. He barked then, a deep rough growl, a plea for the sleeping woman to get up and tend to the strange noise. Mickey’s head rolled to the side, and she muttered, “Hail Mary full of—” Jake barked again, this time louder, a desperate sound in the sickroom. He leapt onto Mickey’s lap, he licked her face, and barked in her ear as he pawed and dug at her.