All the Stars in the Heavens (4 page)

Jackie had entered law school. He had grown up as a ward to their wealthy neighbors, the Lindley family, who had unofficially adopted him. For most of the years of his childhood, before Mutt Belzer courted Gladys, Jackie came and went between the two houses in what became a natural and mutually beneficial arrangement. Gladys allowed it because her son was happy and enjoyed the attention of Mr. Lindley, his surrogate father, a role Gladys could not provide since his own father, John Earle Young, had left her and their children and, true to his word, never returned.

Gladys left the painter to his work and went inside.

She surveyed the grand foyer, with its luxurious carpeted staircase shaped like a corkscrew. A chandelier dripping with sparkling crystal daggers threw shards of light on the marble floor, as though diamonds had been scattered across it. Inspired by Italian frescoes, which she had seen in books, Gladys commissioned an artist to paint a mural with a scene set in the old South. The pastoral setting, using a palette of moss green, midnight blue, and dusty pink, featured her daughters as antebellum characters in hoop skirts and picture hats.

If Gladys wanted to sell something as an interior decorator, all she need do was display the item in her own home. Hand-painted murals became the rage in Beverly Hills.

A similar rationale helped Gladys sell her customers French antiques, English chintz, Italian damasks, and French toile along with custom-dyed wool rugs. Sunset House became a venue for chic garden parties and proper teas that introduced guests to her largesse, her daughters, and most importantly her keen eye, which led to lucrative commissions.

Just as Gladys created idyllic homes and gardens, her daughters were creating images for the public, on film and in magazines, of the glorious power and potential of youth. The girls took their popularity
seriously. It was not enough for an actress to deliver a great performance on a sound stage; the girls also had a responsibility to their fans, and to the public, to be examples of moral purity. The veneer was lacquered to a high polish, so dazzling you could skate on it. The Young sisters were popular with the studio bosses because of their talent, but even without it, they would have been welcome in the front office as well-raised young ladies with lovely manners.

Gladys sat down at her desk and pinned swatches of gold chenille to a collage she had created for a client. Gladys had sketched the rooms, painted the scene, and pinned paint samples, wood chips, and swatches of fabric to a corkboard.

Often the clients kept the collage when a project was completed, as the design board itself was a work of art. Without a traditional education, Gladys devised her own approach to interior decorating, which had its roots in gracious living and homemaking. She expanded her acumen as she learned about architecture, studying the work of her contemporaries James Dolena and Wallace Neff. Gladys designed from the bones out, keeping within the style of the architecture. She used the best materials, went for opulence, and insisted upon comfort, outfitting the home for gracious living, down to the silverware.

While Gladys learned about floor plans from architects and techniques from contractors, she learned about scope and drama from the great set designers in cinema. Gladys observed the work of Cedric Gibbons, who encouraged her to use her imagination and take risks with color and historical authenticity. Like William Haines, a popular matinee idol turned interior decorator, Gladys kept an inventory of fascinating objets d'art in a warehouse full of antique furniture, chandeliers, and fine art. She shopped for her clients in her own warehouse. The collection grew as she worked with buyers, who traveled abroad and brought treasures from around the world, which eventually wound up in the most stylish homes in southern California.

“Miss Gladys? There's a young lady here to see you.” The housekeeper showed Alda into the study.

“Father McNally sent me.” Alda handed Gladys a letter.

“Alda, we've been waiting for you. I'm Mrs. Belzer.” She hit a button on the telephone. “Honey, come downstairs and meet your new secretary.”

She smiled at Alda. “We have an intercom in the house, so we can find each other. It's a busy household.”

The intercom at Saint Elizabeth's was only used in emergencies. Alda could not imagine why a private home would need one. She looked around. How many rooms were in this house, anyway?

“How was your trip?”

“Very fast.” Alda couldn't believe that she was in Los Angeles in a matter of hours. San Francisco and Saint Elizabeth's already seemed like a faraway dream.

A glamorous young woman skipped down the staircase and into her mother's study, wearing a peacock-blue satin housecoat and matching slippers. She took a final puff off her cigarette and put it out in an ashtray on a side table. “Hi, I'm Gretchen.”

“Not dressed yet?” Gladys chided her.

“Not getting dressed. I have the day off before we start tomorrow. I'm going to do everything from my room.” Gretchen winked at Alda.

“This is your new secretary, Alda Ducci.”

“I think there's been a mistake,” Alda said softly. “Mother Superior told me I would be working for Loretta Young.”

Gretchen laughed. “That's my stage name. I'm also not a blonde—this is just for a role. I'm a standard brownette.”

Regardless of hair color, Alda was taken in by her new boss's arresting beauty. Loretta's coloring reminded her of the doves of Padua, with her gray eyes, black lashes, soft blond hair, and golden skin. Loretta's lips were naturally full without the enhancement of lipstick. She was very slim, long-legged, not too tall. If Gretchen had a physical flaw, Alda could not find it.

Alda stared. Loretta didn't mind, used to it.

“You may call me Gretchen.”

“Loretta is an Italian name. It's from ancient Latin,” Alda offered.

“Really? I didn't choose it. At first, I hated it, now it's all right.”

It was obvious to Loretta and to Gladys that Alda had just come from the convent. Her black hair was pulled back in a tight braid, her dress was secondhand, and she was wearing work shoes. Alda wasn't wearing a proper hat or gloves, and her traveling satchel was made of boiled wool. She was thin and about Loretta's height, but she was as plain as Loretta was glamorous.

“Your room is ready for you, Alda. I hope you like it.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Belzer.”

Alda followed Loretta to the staircase. “You'll like it. Mama decorated it herself. Don't get attached to anything, because you'll leave in the morning and come home to a room you don't recognize. My mother changes paint colors like nail polish.” Loretta took Alda's suitcase. “You're Italian?”

“Yes.”

“Father McNally didn't mention that.”

“It's not something I can change.”

Loretta stopped and looked at her. “Why on earth would you?”

Alda laughed. “I wouldn't.”

“Good for you. You say what's on your mind, don't you?”

“Shouldn't I?”

“Feel free. You're honest. That's something you don't find much in Hollywood.”

“I admit I don't know anything about your work. I haven't seen a movie since I went into the convent.”

“How long were you in?”

“Since 1925.”

“You missed
The Sheik
.”

“I'm afraid so.”

“And everything in between. Not to worry, we have some prints here—you can catch up. It'll be fun.”

Alda followed Loretta down a long hallway on the second floor, contemplating a family that could show movies in the same place they lived. Everything about this house and the people in it was fascinating. They lived like royalty, and unlike the entitled, they had worked for it. This scale of opulence earned and shared could only happen in America. Every aspect of the decor was bold. The wallpaper was
a print of large white hydrangea blossoms. The doors to the rooms were each painted a variation of green. The rugs were soft and thick like grass, the furniture covered in feminine watermarked silks. This was a house full of women. If it wasn't apparent in the decor, it was obvious in the scent of rose and vanilla that filled the air.

“Why did you change your name?”

“Colleen Moore didn't like it. She was an actress I worked with,” Loretta said as she stopped in the doorway of her sister's room.

“We call her Gretch the Wretch. When she acts like one.” Polly Ann smiled.

“This is Polly. She's the oldest.”

“And the wisest,” Polly said.

“And the shortest,” Loretta joked.

Polly had the coloring of a mink, dark brown eyes and black hair. She too was a beauty. Alda wondered where they kept the sisters who weren't.

“If you need anything, just knock on my door. My sister isn't the most organized person you'll ever meet,” Polly teased.

“Don't scare my new secretary.”

“She's never had a secretary.” Polly winked at Alda.

“And I've never been one,” Alda admitted.

“Great. We're all even.” Alda followed Loretta down the hall to her new room. Alda had never seen such a lovely room. It was painted lilac with gray trim. There was a twin bed with a satin coverlet, a rocking chair, a dresser and vanity. A set of French doors led to a small balcony. The doors were open, and a gentle breeze fluttered the sheers.

“It's small,” Loretta apologized.

“I'm afraid it's too much.” Alda looked around.

Loretta placed Alda's satchel in the closet and closed the door.

“What kind of room did you have at Saint Elizabeth's?”

“It was a cell. Just a bed and a washbasin. If you don't mind, where is the washbasin?”

“You don't have one.” Loretta pushed a door open to a small bathroom with an enamel tub on four legs. “You have a sink. This is your bathroom.”

“Mine alone?”

“Yes. Every bedroom has a bathroom. This tub is special; it's the only thing Mama brought from the Green Street boardinghouse. Come on. I'll show you my room. Do you get up early?”

“I used to be up before dawn.”

“I'd like you to come with me to the studio every morning. I leave here at four a.m. Sharp. I drive myself.”

“Is the studio far?”

“We could walk it, but why would we?” Loretta led Alda down the hall into her own room, a grand suite that extended across the back of the house. The room was light and airy, and gave Alda the feeling of being in a treehouse.

A series of windows opened out over the garden, with a view of the swimming pool. The long rectangle was filled with turquoise water, which was replenished by a fountain shaped like a Greek urn. Alda had never seen anything so lovely.

Loretta's room was decorated in shades of palest pink. Her four-poster double bed, dressed with organdy satin ruffles, was in an alcove. There was a fireplace with a crystal vase of peonies spilling over the white marble mantel. A sofa and two comfortable reading chairs were covered in flowery chintz. A coffee table was stacked neatly with scripts bound in leather. Loretta used ashtrays for paperweights. A ceramic cup, shaped like a palm tree, was full of sharpened pencils.

“I'm a lucky girl,” Loretta admitted, seeing her room through Alda's eyes.

“And I'm Sally.” Loretta's sister stood in the doorway with her arms folded. Sally, another Young sister, had light blond hair, brown eyes, a trim figure, and an attitude.

“Sally was in
The Sheik
.”

“I don't remember it.” Sally shrugged. “Gretch, can I borrow your gold lace dress tonight?”

“No, you may not. Beat it.”

“Why not?”

“Because I'm wearing it.”

“Mama said you were staying in.”

“I'm wearing it in.”

“Ugh. What else have you got?”

“There's a blue velvet in there.”

“I don't feel blue.”

“That's all you're getting. Either borrow that one or wear your old chiffon.”

Sally went to the closet and opened it.

“The shoes?”

“Take them.” Loretta sighed. “I have work to do.”

“You sure about the gold dress?”

Loretta surrendered. “Just take it, Sal.”

“And the gold shoes?”

“You can't very well wear blue shoes with a gold dress.”

“Thank you!” Sally left with the gold ensemble.

Loretta offered Alda a cigarette. “Sorry. Nuns don't smoke.”

“I didn't take my final vows. I only made it as far as novice. But my Mother Superior smoked. When I'd catch her smoking in the kitchen, she had an expression of pure bliss on her face.”

“I'm with Sister.” Loretta lit her cigarette.

“Told me she'd have to answer to God someday for her vice.”

Loretta looked at Alda.

Alda blushed. “I don't mean you. You can do whatever you wish.”

“I've been smoking since I was nine years old. Mama caught me at thirteen. But I was on a movie set. I wanted to look older. And it helped my voice. I used to squeak—this gave me some timber.”