Celluloid Memories (22 page)

“Hi,” Savannah responded to his hello. “Sorry I missed the call a moment ago. I couldn't find my phone,” she chuckled.

“I figured you were at dinner.”

“I am, but the message said it was important. I thought I should call you back right away.”

“Well, I have good news and bad news,” Punch started.

Savannah grew focused on the tone of his voice. He sounded disappointed. “I think I'd like to have the good news first,” she said, trying to keep it light.

“I got a call from the agent of the actress the studio was considering for your script. She loved the story but was concerned about the impact on her career if she played a black actress passing for white. I guess I should tell you that the actress herself is white. It seemed the only way to go, given the story line. She's a wonderful actress with a solid reputation. She asked if you'd written anything else. I told a little white lie and said you had something else in mind.”

“And that's the good news?” Savannah asked, puzzled. “I'm afraid to ask what the bad news is.”

Punch sighed from the other end of the line. “I'm really sorry Savannah. I tried my best, but the producer has decided to pass on the option. He's chosen one of the other two scripts to film.”

M
cCoy reached for the telephone even as he continued to review the cosing documents for one of his clients.

“Yes?” he answered absently, turning a page.

“A messenger just arrived with something from Ben Damon. It's marked urgent and confidential.”

McCoy grew alert and closed the report he was reading. “Bring it right in.” He was standing when his assistant, Colin, entered the office, handed him the envelope and turned to leave.

McCoy was already breaking the seal on the package. “Thanks. Hold my calls, will you?”

He was so anxious to read the contents that he simply leaned back against the edge of his desk and quickly reviewed the information. He sat just like that for nearly half an hour. When he was done, he went around his desk and sat down again. He silently considered what he'd read, sometimes staring off into space, sometimes scribbling notes. He made a few phone calls, indirectly related to the delivery, and then called Colin to give him further instructions.

He responded to a few business calls, but prepared to leave an hour before he normally would. The last thing he did was to call Savannah at her office. She answered, sounding professional as she always did, her voice and tone light.

“Am I interrupting anything?”

“Hi, Mac. No, it's kind of quiet right now. What's up?”

“How are you doing?”

“I guess you mean since Punch called about the option. I'm fine, really. I admit the idea of having a movie made from my script had me going for a while, but I guess it wasn't meant to be. It's too bad. I even had an actress in mind for the part.” She laughed lightly. “It's a good thing I didn't give up my day job.”

On his end, McCoy silently grinned at her sense of humor. “Maybe something else will happen with the script. Punch told me he'll continue shopping it around. He has some ideas.”

“It's nice of him. This whole thing has given me so much more pride and admiration for my father. To think about the constant rejection he faced every time he tried out for a part…I don't know how he kept going for twenty-five years.”

“Because he was a good actor, and he believed in himself and he understood that you never take no for an answer. You're just like your father, Vann, whether you know it or not. You may not be part of the Hollywood thing, but you're talented and smart and levelheaded.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls,” she accused lightly.

“No, I don't,” McCoy answered in a dead-serious tone. “I say what I mean, especially to a
woman
I care about.”

“Are you trying to make me cry?” she asked, her voice now quiet.

“No. I thought I was calling to cheer you up, but I'm doing a damned poor job so far. Look, no matter what you say, I know that having the producer turn down the script so fast after getting you all excited, must have bummed you out. Let me take you out to dinner. I have a surprise for you.”

“You do?”

“I think it's something you've been wanting for a while now, whether or not you know it.”

“Are you going to give me a hint?”

“Are you going to have dinner with me?”

“You know the answer to that, Mac. I'd love to.”

“Good. Then go home. I'll pick you up there and we'll eat someplace local.”

“Okay.”

“Now for the surprise. I've located Rae Marie Hilton. She's alive and well and apparently living in paradise.”

He was confused when there was total silence from the other end of the line. No exclamation or gasp, no shriek of surprise.

“Vann?”

“Are you serious?”

“Of course I am.”

“But…how did you find her? How did you even know where to look?”

“I have my sources.”

She sucked her teeth. “Mac, that's a line from a movie. It's a cliché.”

“But it's true. I used a P.I. service. It's the first time, and I still can't believe that they actually found her.”

“Where is she? What do you mean, she's living in paradise?”

“According to the file I received on her, she's been living on the island of Kauai for at least the last fifteen years.”

“Kauai? Like…”

“Hawaiian island. The Garden Isle. Remote and quiet.”

“Is she okay? Does she live alone? What else did you find out?”

“Quite a lot. I'll tell you all about it at dinner. But I have another idea you might like even more. A good friend of mine owns a house on the north shore of Kauai. I've already called and asked if I could use it for a weekend. He said yes. How do you feel about the two of us flying over to meet her? It might answer a lot of questions you have about Ms. Hilton and your father.”

“I don't know, Mac. If she went there to get away from her bad experiences in Hollywood, our going over there to ask a lot of questions might bring them all back. Maybe she doesn't want to be reminded of that time in her life.”

“Maybe. But what if she'd love to tell someone about it? What better person than you?”

“Why would she? Rae Marie Hilton shared a lot with my father. Maybe that's all she needed. What if she's, you know, still pretending to be something other than what she is? If I go nosing around in her business she might resent it. It sounds too much like using her.”

“Okay, I understand that. But here's a suggestion.”

“I'm listening.”

“Why don't you call her and find out? I have her phone number right here.”

 

Savannah had never been to Hawaii. It was on her short list of places to visit, but it somehow seemed like something to do once she retired. She knew only a few people who had ever been, and mostly they'd stayed on the popular tourist island of Oahu where Honolulu and Waikiki were located, along with the Pearl Harbor Memorial and the dormant volcano, Diamond Head…and they'd complained about the long brutal flight from the east coast. She'd often heard Oahu referred to as a big metropolitan city but with palm trees and coconuts.

It had taken her a week to get up the courage to call Rae Marie, as McCoy had suggested, and then she had been stunned into nonresponsiveness when the mysterious lady herself had answered the phone, in a soft but deep voice with a silky, brandy huskiness to it.

“Speak up or I'm hanging up,” came back the blunt order.

Afraid that Rae Marie would be true to her word, Savannah had confirmed that she was talking to the right person, and then had rushed into an apology for interrupting her. Then it was Rae Marie's turn to be silent for a moment.

“How did you find me?” was her first question.

“A friend of mine did the legwork. He's an attorney in L.A.”

“And just why was your friend looking for me? Am I supposed to know him? Am I being sued?”

“No, of course not. He was doing me a favor. I'd found out about you from papers my father kept. Your journals and letters.”

There was a very soft intake of breath from Rae Marie's end. “Who was your father?”

“Will Shelton. I'm his daughter, Savannah.”

There was another gasp.

“Will Shelton. Good Lord. I haven't heard that name…how is he?”

Savannah had immediately warmed to Rae Marie when the flurry of questions had been not about herself or about trying to find out what Savannah knew about her, but about Will Shelton. It had probably been a decade or more since they'd laid eyes on each other, but still her first thought was of her old confidant, fellow actor and friend.

“My father passed away about ten months ago. He'd been sick for a year before that.”

“Oh, no. Oh, Will…” Rae Marie had tsked and moaned quietly to herself at the news.

Savannah heard pain, regret, even helplessness in the woman's reaction, and there was nothing she could say to soften the blow of her news.

“I'm sorry. I thought that somehow you'd know.”

“No, no. I knew nothing. I've cut all of my old Hollywood ties. It was not a happy time in my life.”

“Yes, I know.”

“You do? Of course. You said you'd found my letters and journals.”

“Yes. And I did read them, but I promise you, I haven't shown them to anyone else…”

“Then, you know?”

Savannah understood exactly what Rae Marie was referring to. It was at the center of her friendship with her father. It was, quite frankly, at the core of Rae Marie's life. Her identity. Who she was, or who she wanted to be.

“Yes, I know. Yours is an amazing story. It must have been so hard for you.”

“It was. It was a terrible burden not to be found out.” Her chuckle was hoarse. “I made fools out of a lot of Hollywood folks. I was estranged from my family for years because of what I was doing. Lord, if I didn't have Will…Tell me about Will. He was my only friend in those days. The one person who knew everything, and didn't hate me for what I did.”

“Ms. Hilton, I have a lot of things I want to tell you. There are hundreds of questions I need to ask. I was wondering if it's possible for me to come over to Kauai to meet you? I already have a place to stay, and—”

“When can you come?”

 

Savannah and McCoy landed at Lihue Airport on Kauai late on a Thursday night after a six-hour flight from L.A. McCoy had taken care of everything: arranging for a rental car, getting directions to the house in Princeville and driving the two of them, in near-pitch-black darkness on one-lane roads, to the north side of Kauai. He'd done most of the talking and calming of nerves, reassuring her that the arranged meeting with Rae Marie would be a good thing. It would answer questions and perhaps provide closure for both of them.

But Savannah had not admitted to Mccoy that one of her greatest fears had been that the woman who was her father's friend had had her private history trolled for the benefit of a film script and might reject her if she knew. While it hadn't been completely self-serving, it had been an invasion. Savannah wasn't sure if Rae Marie would or could forgive her for that.

The split-level house belonging to McCoy's friend was set back about fifty yards from the road. In the dark, as they unpacked their luggage from the car, Savannah could hear the ocean breaking on the shore behind them in the night. They had to walk down one set of stairs from the parking area, and then up another to the front of the house. Inside, the common spaces were on the first level: the kitchen, dining alcove, living room and lanai or outside terrace. There were two bedrooms on the lower level, one with its own bathroom and walk-in closet. Savannah and McCoy chose this master suite to use during their stay.

They'd brought no food with them, as McCoy's friend had recommended, opting for the adventure of eating out locally. They finally settled down in the king-sized bed together, snuggling close under a lightweight comforter. With the lights out and the quiet outside wrapping them in a safe blanket of peace and comfort, Savannah listened to McCoy's resonant voice as he reminded her that she now had a chance to set the record straight by reaching out to Rae Marie. It was she who was now keeper of keys to the kingdom that was her father's rich history. She was the remaining conduit of his connections to Hollywood and of his loyal friendship to a woman who had needed it.

Savannah curled herself against McCoy, letting his voice lull her into a safe place where she could sleep—and dream.

 

With McCoy at the wheel of their Jeep, Savannah was free to sightsee and fill her eyes with the incredible color and lush landscape of Kauai. It was a very small island, dominated by Waimea Canyon in the middle and the nearly inaccessible Na Poli coast on the north. The towns and villages hugged the coast, connected by one main highway. But that continuous line was broken at the start of the Na Poli coastline, discouraging development of any kind.

She had a sense of why the island might have appeal to Rae Marie Hilton. In some ways, like L.A., it was possible to become anonymous here, to fade into the slow and easy lifestyle. She'd been told that people either fell in love with it or could only stay for a limited period of time before running back to what a larger community might offer. Those who stayed embraced the laid-back daily life of few demands and little stress.

The small towns seemed like a throwback to the slapdash hippy days of the sixties, and, indeed, there was plenty of evidence that the sixties sensibilities were alive and well here.

The next morning Savannah thought she was still dreaming when the distinctive crowing of a cock woke her up at dawn. It was such an unexpected sound that she got out of bed to peer out a window to see the majestic bird, feathered in red and black, strutting along the walkway next to the house.

But her amusement quickly gave way to nerves as she and McCoy prepared for their drive to meet with Rae Marie. She had given Savannah precise instructions on how to find her house, saying she was not easy to find, and that had been by design.