Edge of Valor (47 page)

Laura took Roberta by both shoulders and kissed her on the cheek. “Thanks, Bertie.”

Roberta straightened to her full seventy-three inches. “Nobody calls me that.”

“Oops, sorry. Do I still have a job?”

“As long as you don't mess up your program.”

“What's going on?”

“Maestro called this morning to say he has two more volunteers. So we now have twenty-five of his best.”

“Wonderful,” Laura said. “Luckily it's a simple program. I do ‘Embraceable You.' Then we do ‘The Meditation.' After that we do ‘Temptation.'”

Roberta interrupted. “Then the maestro does ‘The Blue Danube' and everybody dances.”

Helen sighed. “Does it have to be a waltz?”

Laura laughed. “Toots, the boogie-woogie comes later when everybody's had too much to drink.”

Helen protested, “That's not what I meant. I only—”

Laura smiled, “We're following protocol. Since the maestro is the one paying—”

“Actually, NBC is paying,” interrupted Roberta.

“We follow their standards,” Laura finished.

“Okay. Makes sense to me,” said Helen.

Roberta asked, “By the way, who is Eldon White?”

“What?” Laura and Helen said in unison.

Roberta said, “You know, that cute naval officer. The chubby one with short blond hair.”

“That's Tubby White, who just took over command of Todd's ship,” said Helen.

Roberta said, “Well, he and Jack Carson have found each other. Jack is going to put him on stage as a straight man.”

“Oh, God,” said Laura. “Jerry will kill him.”

Helen laughed, “Let it go, Laura. They'll do just fine.”

“They hate each other,” said Laura.

“What? I'd better put a stop to this,” Roberta said, heading for the door.

“No, no,” said Helen. “It's all an act. Do you think Tubby would have ever made skipper if Jerry objected? It's an act, believe me.”

Laura drummed her fingers. “Jack Carson and Tubby White. This ought to be good. Okay.”

Helen said, “Add Arturo Toscanini, water, and stir, and you have one great party.”

“You sure about this?” asked Roberta, her hand on the doorknob.

“It'll be just fine,” Laura assured her. “Now, where was I? Oh yeah, is Telfe here?”

“About ten minutes ago,” said Roberta.

Helen's eyebrows went up.

Laura explained, “Telfe Rabinowitz, first violin. She'll back me up with ‘The Meditation.' And it's a good thing. Otherwise it would fall flat.”

Helen said, “Sounds beautiful.”

“And that's it,” said Roberta.

“No,” said Laura. “I'd like to finish with ‘Smoke Gets in Your Eyes.'”

“That should work all right,” said Roberta.

Laura took her hand. “Corny, but it will be perfect. Then Jack Carson takes over again and closes out with a toast to the bride and groom.”

Helen said, “And then we get to do the boogie-woogie?”

“Sorry, sweetheart. The conga line is next.
Then
the boogie-woogie.”

Roberta rolled her eyes. “Decorum, Laura. Decorum.”

Laura gave a mock curtsy. “Yes, ma'am. Decorum is my middle name.”

“Very well. I'll leave you with Lorraine. I need to check on the food.”

“We haven't talked for a while,” Laura said to Helen after the door closed. You doing okay, hon?” She glanced at Lorraine.

Lorraine Simonds whisked a powder puff over Laura's forehead and said, “Almost done, toots. Go ahead and blab. I can work.”

Helen said, “I'm doing pretty well, Laura.”

“How well? You still seeing that shrink?” Laura reached under her dress, produced a flask, filled the cap, and knocked it back. “Ahhhh.”

“Laura, you're pregnant!”

“Can you tell?”

“You hardly show.”

“We don't want people talking.” She looked up. “Right, Lorraine?”

Lorraine winked, “No speaka da English.”

Laura said softly, “How about the shrink?”

Helen replied, “I think there's light at the end of the tunnel. Remember that horrible thunderstorm a couple of months ago?”

“Oh, sure.”

“Well, I stopped dreaming after that. Dr. Raduga called it a catharsis.”

“A what?”

“Catharsis. An emotional cleansing. It's caused by a sudden, often frightening event—like that thunderstorm. It scared the daylights out of me and I felt rocky for the next couple of days. But guess what? No more going fetal under the bed. I think it's all behind me. At least I hope so.”

“Honey, that's wonderful.”

“I do feel better and—”

Landa burst in and interrupted. “Baby, there's a crowd out there that only you can satisfy. Jack Carson is on stage now taking care of things. But I think you really need to get out there.”

“Why?”

“Well, somehow Tubby White elbowed his way onto the stage with Carson. He's gonna make a damn fool of himself.”

Laura winked at Helen. “Anything else?”

“Yeah, you should see Sergeant Harper.”

Laura's eyes narrowed. She didn't trust Marines. “What's he done?”

Landa chuckled, “He signed up that crazy limo driver for the U.S. Marine Corps. Got his signature on the dotted line.”

“Well, at least that will get him off the streets.”

“Yeah. Safer around here.”

“Is that all?”

“My sailors are getting drunk.”

“Ouch. That does it.” Laura stood. “Sorry, Lorraine, duty calls.”

Lorraine squinted, “One moment, toots.” She worked a little with Laura's lipstick and then said. “You're a knockout.”

“Thanks, Lorraine.” Laura stood and smoothed her dress. Helen asked, “Jerry, what if they get out of hand?”

Landa said, “Not to worry, babe. I have shore patrolmen in there ready to whack anyone over the head who gets out of line.” He turned to Laura, “Shall we?”

“I'm all yours.” Arm in arm, she walked out with her husband.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

23 November 1945

Grand Ballroom, Beverly Hills Hotel, Beverly Hills, California

T
he enormous crystal chandelier cast a soft glow over the Grand Ballroom. A pastel floral mural with matching drapes complemented the lush greenery visible through the large windows. Tables surrounded a dance floor complete with a lighted stage. The house lights were down, and a single spot captured Jack Carson on stage. He wasn't hard to find. The 6-foot 2-inch comedian weighed 220 pounds and could have done well playing fullback for the Chicago Bears. Behind him was a twenty-piece orchestra assembled by Arturo Toscanini, who stood mutely in the darkness, baton at his side.

Carson spotted Landa and Laura coming in through the ballroom's massive wooden double doors. He waved a finger in the air and called out, “There they are now, ladies and gentlemen. Our bride and groom—Captain and Mrs. Jerry Landa!”

Applause broke out as the spotlight swung over to highlight the waving couple. Landa widened his smile and the applause grew, his sailors catcalling and whistling from the darkness.

Carson said, “Sage advice for the new groom, Captain Landa. Many a husband has learned an ironclad alibi isn't as effective as a diamond-studded one.” The crowd laughed, sailors again whistled, and Carson waved to a set of stairs at stage left. “Right now, I'd like you to meet the commanding officer of the USS
Maxwell
, Lieutenant Commander Eldon P. White.”

Again the crowd applauded, the sailors whistling and stamping their feet as White mounted the steps.

Ingram groaned, “This is going to be a train wreck.”

Helen took his hand. “Easy, darling.”

Dimitri Tiomkin, who stood next to Ingram, leaned over and asked, “Train wreck?”

Ingram explained, “Jerry Landa is Tubby's boss. They put on a big show of hating each other. They lay off when things get serious. But things haven't been this serious before.”

Tiomkin smiled. “Train wreck. I like that.”

Ingram muttered, “I hope not.”

Tubby's medals and gold braid glittered in the spotlight as he walked up to the microphone.

Carson said, “What do you think, Tubby? Er, I mean Mr. White . . . er, Commander. Oh, hell. Can I just call you Tubby?”

White deadpanned, “Of course, Mr. Carson.”

“I don't want to disrupt naval protocol,” Carson said.

White looked up to him. “You've got about five inches and twenty-five pounds on me, so you can call me anything you want.”

Carson grinned. “You don't look so shabby yourself, sailor. Now tell me, any advice for Captain Landa?”

“Well, I'd say humility is the word of the day for a new groom.”

“Humility?”

“Yes, I'd say to the commodore, no matter how well she treats you, always try to be humble.”

A few chuckles rattled around the room. Carson asked, “Is he capable of that?”

“Absolutely not.” The crowd laughed. The spotlight swung to Landa, who gave a pasty smile, then back to Carson.

“Indeed, humility
should
be the order of the day, Tubby. Commodore Landa has married a very talented lady. You all know that she plays concert piano for Maestro Arturo Toscanini and the NBC Symphony Orchestra.” He waved to his left and the spotlight caught Toscanini to loud applause. When that abated, Carson went on, “But many of you may not know that Laura dabbles in popular music and is making a name for herself there as well. She would like to do a couple of numbers for you now. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Laura West Landa.”

The stage lights went down as a single spotlight caught Laura mounting the stage. The crowd pressed in, applauding and whistling. Sailors weaved among them, their shore patrol chaperones carefully watching every move.

She kissed Tubby on the cheek as he walked offstage, then kissed Jack Carson, who made a big show of wiping his cheek. She bowed at the audience and sat at the piano, the spotlight focusing tightly on her.

Ingram felt a draft on the back of his neck and sensed the double doors opening behind him. With a few others he turned to see two people silhouetted in the dim foyer light. One was tall and slender—a woman in an elegant black lace floor-length dress. She was accompanied by a man in uniform.

“. . . very happy,” Laura was saying. “Jerry and I will honeymoon in Yosemite for a couple of weeks, then he goes back to work for Uncle Sam and I go back to
NBC. Lucky for me, Jerry's next duty station is right here in Long Beach on the cruiser-destroyer staff. Did I say that right, dear?” she called.

Landa shouted from darkness, “Good enough for government work, honey.”

“Well, I'm glad that it's good enough for you and all of your boys here with us today. Welcome back, sailors, and well done. How fitting for this Thanksgiving weekend. We're honored by your presence here today.” She applauded and the crowd joined her generously.

She pulled the mike a little closer, adjusted herself on the bench, and began playing soft background music. “Jerry and I want to thank Hernando Courtright and his marvelous staff here at the Beverly Hills Hotel. We couldn't have been more grandly treated.”

From the darkness a voice shouted, “Hot springs tonight!”

With an up-tempo, Laura ignored it as two SPs quietly surrounded a freckle-faced sailor. The kid looked barely seventeen years old. Silently they palmed his elbows and escorted him out the double doors.

“And to the maestro, to Roberta Thatcher, and to the entire NBC organization, my undying love. Thank you very much.” She held out her arms. Toscanini walked over, wrapped his arms around her, and kissed her.