Dazzle The Complete Unabridged Trilogy (83 page)

'Because they love their sons,' Inge replied wisely, reopen
ing the closet door to release a wedge of chiffon pinched
between the door and frame. 'I would be no different myself.'

'Yes, but you're no ogre. And you like Louie.'

'Who says his mother will not like you?'

'Oh, slim chance she will.' Tamara plopped herself down
on the bed and sat there morosely.

Inge took a seat beside her and touched her arm. 'Tell me,
why do you worry so much about this?'

'Because
...
I love Louie.' Tamara looked down at her slender, fidgeting fingers. 'I don't want anything to go wrong.'

Inge smiled reassuringly and drew her closer. 'Then it will
not, I assure you. Just calm down.'

'How can I calm down?' Tamara cried. 'Can't you see I'm
nervous?'

'Have a sandwich.'

'That'll make me fat,' Tamara said morosely.

'Then think about pheasant things.'

'Pleasant things,' Tamara corrected humourlessly.

Inge ignored her. 'If I were Mrs. Ziolko, I would be happy
for my son to marry you.'

'But you're not,' Tamara pointed out with her typical, mad
dening sense of reality. 'She'll think I'm a streetwalker, or
worse. I mean, just look at me! This hair!' She grabbed a
handful and yanked until she grimaced in pain. 'It looks fine
on film, but I feel like such a freak in public!'

'Stop worrying. Try to take one, two hours off work sometime this week and we go shopping and have lunch. We find
the right thing to wear. It will be fun.'

'Fun!' Tamara's eyes slid sideways with liquid green venom.
'I hate shopping,' she mumbled.

'Since when?' Inge looked at her in surprise. 'You always
like it.'

'I
did,
'
Tamara admitted heavily with a sigh, 'but that was
when I went shopping for myself and didn't have to please the
whole country ... or Louie's mother!'

'Ah, there is that,' Inge said. 'There is that.'

The Sunday of the visit Tamara wore a minimum of makeup,
brushed her hair casually back, and dressed in the slim-cut conservative tweed suit with near-ankle-length skirt and
beautifully tailored green jacket she and Inge had picked out
together. Her platinum hair looked hopelessly out of place with the nubby tweeds, but Inge had resolved that problem
by the inspired act of knotting a silk scarf, which matched
Tamara's hair colour precisely, around her throat. When she heard the unmistakable honk of the Duesenberg klaxon from the kerb, Tamara picked up the platter of fresh-baked apple strudel, Inge's specialty, swiftly blew Inge a goodbye kiss, and
pushed her sunglasses onto her nose with her free hand.

'No, no. No classes,' Inge said, waving her hand back and
forth. 'Makes you look too much like a moving star.'

Tamara thrust the glasses at Inge, and on sudden impulse yanked the extravagant bouquet of white lilies out of the vase on the foyer table. Water dripped down from the long green
stalks.

'What you do that for?' Inge demanded.

'I'll give them to Mrs. Ziolko,' Tamara said.

'You take flowers to a woman?'

'Why not?'

'I thought only men brung flowers,' Inge said.

'I'm desperate.' Tamara grimaced more than smiled.

Louis, as was his custom when he visited his mother, for
went his chauffeur and drove the huge car himself. Seeing it,
Tamara felt her pervading sense of doom brighten, as if the
Duesenberg were a lucky charm. It had taken her to Oscar
Skolnik's mansion, where it had been decided she was to
become a star. Why shouldn't it portend good luck now as
well?

She deposited her peace offerings on the back seat and
climbed in up front, beside Louis. He kissed her and they
drove off.

As they neared the neighbourhood where Zelda Ziolko
lived, Pasadena's large, pleasant houses with their generous
lawns gave way to small cookie-cutter bungalows, each a car
bon copy of the next except for the colour of the stucco.
Despite her attempts at dressing down, Tamara began to feel
foolishly overdressed and acutely conspicuous, definitely a fish far from water. She would have felt far more confident among the worst tenements or the priciest mansions, but the sameness
of these low-roofed bungalows lining both sides of the street
on brownish postage-stamp lots depressed her. The Duesen
berg attracted undue attention, as though it had washed up on
a drab beach from some distant wealthier continent.

'Here we are,' Louis announced as he pulled up alongside
the kerb. 'Mother's home, humble home.' He smiled wryly.

Tamara turned to look at the neat little bungalow and saw
the living-room curtains move. Quickly she snapped open her
compact and repaired her windblown hair while Louis got out
of the car. He opened her door and helped her down. She
opened the back door, gathered up the strudel and flowers, and followed him up the tiny concrete walk.

The front door flew open before they reached it, and Zelda
burst out, her plump hands outstretched. A tragedy seemed
clearly in the making as she flung herself straight on a collision
course with Louis, her thick legs with their swollen ankles
carrying her as swiftly as they could, her heaving bosom jutting
forward like the imposing prow of a ship, her every breath
wheezing out of her lungs as if emerging from a giant bellows.
'Louie!' she cried. 'Louie! My
bubbale!'
Just as Tamara was
about to shut her eyes in anticipation of her knocking Louis
down, Zelda came to a sudden stop, hopped up on tiptoe the
same moment that Louis bent down, tilted her crinkly-haired
head way back, and deposited a resounding kiss on his lips.

'Hello, Mother.' He embraced her, dutifully kissing her
rouged cheek.

' "Hello Mother" ,' Zelda scolded. 'That is all you can say?
A peck on the cheek, that is a way to kiss your mother? That's
what they teach you to do in that Hollywood?'

Oh-oh, Tamara thought, steeling herself. This is
not
going
to be a bed of roses. She looked on as Louis, obviously embar
rassed, kissed his mother dutifully on the lips.

'That's better,' Zelda said, her eyes narrowing. 'I missed
you, Louie. You should visit your poor old mother more
often!' She wagged an admonishing finger at him. 'Everyone asks, when is that nogoodnik son of yours coming? What can
I say? That I don't know? A fool you make me look!'

'Mother,' he interrupted gently, 'I'd like you to meet
Tamara.'

Tamara stepped forward and smiled shyly. 'Hello, Mrs.
Ziolko,' she said softly. 'It's a pleasure to meet you at last.'

Zelda's eyes were appraising as they swept Tamara from
head to toe and back to her head again. For a moment she did
not speak. 'You're very pretty
...
in your way,' she said fin
ally in a grudging, almost accusatory voice.

'Mother,' Louis said in exasperation, 'is that any way to
greet your future daughter-in-law?'

'
Nu?
' Zelda, arms akimbo, glared challengingly up at her
son. 'So she's pretty. I said she was pretty. Next I suppose
you're going to tell your mother to her face that she tells lies?'

Tamara could see the muscles in his cheeks tightening as he
held his anger in check, and her heart went out to him. No
wonder he didn't come to visit her more often. 'I brought you
these flowers, Mrs. Ziolko,' she said brightly to cover up the awkward pause. She thrust the bouquet at the woman.

'Lilies!' Zelda stared down at them malevolently. 'And such
a big bunch! You should have saved your money. A spend
thrift my Louie doesn't need.' She shook the lilies at Tamara.
'You want I should tell you how many ways you can keep your
money from being stolen on a bus?'

Tamara blinked. She was taken aback and slightly confused,
but determined to be undeterred. 'And I helped bake you this
apple strudel.' Smiling, she proffered the covered platter like
a prize.

'Strudel!' Mrs. Ziolko scoffed, her eyes flashing dramatic
shards of brittle ice. 'You want strudel, you taste
my
strudel.
It's baking in the oven right now. Two hours I took just to
make the dough so it comes out so nice and flaky it melts on
your tongue. I'm famous for my strudel.' Eyebrows raised,
Zelda Ziolko turned on her heel and marched into the bunga
low. 'Ha!' Tamara heard her mumble under her breath. 'Stru
del she brings. Strudel!'

Louis smiled apologetically and gave an eloquent shrug of
helplessness as he held the screen door open for Tamara. She
smiled at him with a cheerfulness she did not feel. Her eyes
were angry and her heart pounded with a fierce fury, but she
arranged her face into an expressionless mask. She wasn't
about to give this monster the pleasure of seeing her upset.

She's a dragon, Tamara thought with a sinking feeling. My
God, she's even worse than anything I'd imagined.

It was getting dark out by the time they finished eating. Zelda suddenly pushed herself to her feet and switched on the small
chandelier with its meagre crystals. It threw a garish, surreal
glare, and Tamara had to blink against the six 60-watt bulbs.

'Louie, you go on into the living room,' Zelda ordered
shortly. 'Listen to the radio. Read the Sunday paper. Tamara
here is going to help me to clean up.'

He and Tamara exchanged quick glances. With her eyes
and a smile of infinite patience, she managed to convey to him
that it was all right with her. 'Okay,' he said, crumpling his
napkin into a ball and getting to his feet. He came over to
Tamara and kissed her. Then he turned to Zelda. 'That was a
fine meal, Mother.'