Leftovers: A Novel (20 page)

Tupperware spared no expenses and put Vivian up in a deluxe room at the Plaza Hotel. As they made their way through the lobby Vivian glanced all about, as if she were searching for someone.

“Do you think she’s here, right now, in this lobby?” Vivian asked, all excited.

“Who?”

“Eloise!”

“From the children’s book?”

“Actually, I mean Kay Thompson who wrote it. They say she lives here and that Eloise is really fashioned after her god-daughter, Liza Minnelli.”

“Stew would faint right now. I don’t know what we should do first. Peek into the Oak Room or have some tea in the Palm Court or look! Celeste Holm is performing in the Persian Room tonight. Should we book a table?”

“Babs, how about we check-in first?”

The luxurious suite was on the eighteenth floor and faced north over Central Park South. Inspired by the Louis XV style of French décor, the spacious room had two beds plus a sitting area. Refined elegance is how Vivian’s brochure described the room and the rose marble and gold-fixtured bathroom was fit for a queen. In fact, many a queen had stayed there.

The moment the girls had tipped the white-gloved bellboy, the phone rang. Brownie’s secretary in Florida was making sure everything was to Vivian’s liking and then broke the news to her that the schedule they had sent, describing when and where she had to be, had changed. A lot. In fact, she no longer had that first afternoon to explore the town. The forecast called for rain the next few days and they had to do an exterior location shot. Vivian was going to be picked up shortly and driven out of town, into the suburbs, while it was still sunny out.

Babs threw herself upon her bed like a petulant child. “I didn’t come all the way to New York City to go to Jersey!”

“Then stay here,” Vivian said as she grabbed her make-up case and ran into the bathroom. “You don’t have to go.”

Babs sat up. “Really?”

Vivian stuck her head out. “Really.” She disappeared and then reappeared just as quickly. “But promise me you’ll be careful. Don’t get yourself into any trouble.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

In no time, the front desk called up and said a car had arrived for Vivian and she flew around the hotel room gathering what she thought she might need. Meanwhile, considering how early they had to get up to catch the morning train, Babs decided to take a quick catnap before heading out.

“There are a million and one things we have to do, Viv, so when will you be back?”

“Unfortunately I don’t know,” she said as she grabbed her coat. “Go out. Have fun. But don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Well then, I might as well just stay here in the room all day!”

“Very funny. Wish me luck,” Vivian said as she headed out the door.

“You don’t need it. Break-a-neck!”

She stuck her head back in. “I think that’s break-a-leg.”

“I’m sure you’ll break something.”

“Gee thanks!”

•  •  •

A limousine drove Vivian and a production assistant, a young man who looked liked he could still be in high school, out to Short Hills, New Jersey. They crossed over to the West Side Highway, drove all the way down till they hit the Holland Tunnel and then crossed the Hudson River to Jersey City. Just past noon, the highways were clear and they made it to the house they were shooting at in just about 45 minutes.

During the drive Vivian was told that she would only have to speak several lines on camera. They would shoot the outside scene and all the interior ones that day and into the night. And then the next day, she would record a voice-over for the entire commercial in a New York City studio.

“What a relief,” Vivian confessed to the assistant. “Acting and walking and talking all at the same time. I feared it would be like rubbing my head and patting my stomach.”

“You’ll do just fine, Evelyn.”

“Vivian,” she corrected him, looking a bit worried.

Short Hills was beautiful. In fact, the lush and hilly landscape reminded Vivian very much of Abbot. The house chosen was a split-level and there were a dozen or so actresses already on set as well as all of the production team, the director and two representatives from Tupperware, waiting for Vivian. If she hadn’t been so rushed and thrown into the organized chaos, she surely would have choked and possibly let her nerves get the better of her. Knowing that the entire success of the commercial was sitting heavily on her shoulders was already daunting, but the way it panned out, she hadn’t the luxury or the time to worry. She just had to do it.

Before she could say hello to anyone, she was whirled into hair, make-up and wardrobe as the director went over the first shot of the day.

Back at the hotel, Babs took a quick shower after her snooze, put on a pair of beige Capri pants, matched it with a black cashmere sweater and sensible flats and she was out the door.

Upon exiting the hotel’s main entrance she was facing Grand Army Plaza. Directly in front of her was the opulent Pulitzer Fountain, which had a bronze statue on top and water bubbling down it like champagne flowing over tiers of a wedding cake.

To the left and north, across 59th Street, she could see the glimmering gilt statue of General Sherman being guided by an angel. And surrounding both monuments were beds of thousands of white tulips, all in full bloom.

Suddenly, Babs heard the clip-clop sound of hooves as a horse and carriage emerged from Central Park. She was tempted to jump in and take a ride but decided she wanted to wait and share the experience with Vivian. But beyond the carriage was a vendor’s cart with a giant colored umbrella, which reminded her that she hadn’t eaten a thing all day. She carefully ran across the street dodging cars, buses and bustling people and saw that he had giant soft pretzels, hot dogs and sodas for sale.

She bought a dog, smeared mustard across it and just a few yards away, walked into Central Park through the southeast entrance. Below street level and surrounded by trees, the pond, full of ducks and geese, was a welcome relief to the hustle and bustle of the city. She sat down on a park bench and looked back over her shoulder and saw the Plaza peeking its head out from above the trees. “How perfect is this?” she whispered to herself.

As she chowed down her hot dog she made mental notes of everything she wanted to see.
Must go downtown to Greenwich Village.

Babs had recently read a pictorial article in
Coronet Magazine
titled,
Judy Holiday Tells Her Story Of Greenwich Village
and it enthralled her. Judy talked about Washington Square Park, the Theatre de Lys with its experimental plays, the art galleries and of course, the bohemian nightclubs and coffeehouses.

Oh, and we have to see the Statue Of Liberty, the Empire State Building.
Suddenly she paused and said out loud, “Damn this dog is good.” She got up and walked back towards the vendor as she finished her last bite.
Maybe we’ll have time to take a sightseeing boat ride around Manhattan and sit in the audience of a live television show over at Rockefeller Center or hop over to Radio City Music Hall and see the Rockettes and take in a movie!

She reached the vendor’s cart and very demurely asked for another hot dog. “They’re so yummy,” she exclaimed.

The man looked at her blankly. “Really?” He looked down into the tank of murky water the franks were drowning in.

“Really. I think I’ll have catsup on this one, please. Oh, and isn’t Tiffany’s nearby?”

“Two blocks south on Fifth,” he said as he fished another dog out.

“Thank you ever so much.”

He handed it to her, she gave him the money and Babs was off for the day.

Just like he said, she walked two blocks south on Fifth Avenue and across the street there was the store she had always heard about. But right next to her on the west side of the street was Bergdorf Goodman’s. She had to make a decision. Tiffany’s or Bergdorf’s? It was Tiffany’s first, then Bergdorf’s and then the rest of Manhattan. She waited for the light to change as she enjoyed her second hot dog and then made her way kitty-corner across the intersection to the famous store.

“This was too good,” Babs said as she wiped her mouth with her napkin and gazed at the window display full of priceless jewels.
Hmmm, would a third dog be too much?

•  •  •

Close to 9:00 P.M. that night, Vivian dragged her exhausted body into the hotel room. With the lights out and the shades drawn, she assumed Babs was out on the town. She flicked on the switch and then heard a painful moan from one of the beds.

“Babs?” Vivian whispered.

With her entire body enshrouded with bed covers, she managed to eek out, “Awwwhhh.”

Vivian rushed to her side. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” She pulled back the blanket and sheets revealing a very sick Babs.

She looked up at Vivian and covered her mouth as she shot out of bed and into the bathroom. Vivian stood at the doorway and watched as she threw up in the commode.

“You’re sick?”

Babs nodded.

“What happened? Did you over do it today?”

Babs splashed water on her face and then glanced in the mirror. “Ugh. I didn’t do
anything
today. Except . . . ”

“Except what?”

“Three vendor hot dogs, a glance at Tiffany’s and food poisoning.”

“Aww geez.”

Looking like she was about to expire, she barely made it back to her bed. “The house doctor came up.”

“And?”

“He’s really cute. And single too!”

“You don’t stop, even on your deathbed.”

“He said just to give it time and drink plenty of fluids.”

“You poor kid.”

“But you have to go out and paint the town.”

Vivian finally took off her coat. “I’m too tired and I have to be in the recording studio by 8:30 A.M. Do you mind if I just order room service and watch some television?”

Babs covered her head with the blanket. “Whatever.”

Vivian picked up the hotel menu. “Do you want something to eat?”

“Noooo!”

•  •  •

Even though she had only had a little fruit for lunch, Vivian was so exhausted, she had no appetite. Brownie had called to check-in and told her that the advertising agency and the director were thrilled with her work on the shoot. And then she asked if Vivian was eating enough. So she forced herself to order some soup and a Caesar salad with grilled salmon.

In no time, room service was knocking at her door. They rolled in an elegant silver cart draped with linens and set up dinner for her in the sitting area of the suite near the television. She tipped the waiter and asked Babs if she wanted some of the food.

A muffled “Ugh!” emanated from the body buried in the bed.

It was about 9:20 P.M. when Vivian turned on the television set and changed the channel to CBS to watch the
I Love Lucy
show. She sat down and started nibbling at her food but unfortunately, the episode airing was titled,
Lucy Does A TV Commercial.
On the show, Lucy had just started her rehearsal for the live performance for the Vitameatavegamin tonic containing 23 percent alcohol and it was clear, things weren’t going to go as planned. As Lucy finished one rehearsal and then started the next, she clearly became more intoxicated and even more side-splittingly funny.

This was the last thing Vivian needed to watch the night before doing her voiceovers for the Tupperware commercial but it was so darn comical she couldn’t stop watching. “At least I’m not doing it live and in front of an audience,” she whispered to herself.

•  •  •

Shortly after dinner, Vivian managed to brush her teeth before passing out into her bed. She was so tired she never heard the multitude of times that Babs had to get up and rush to the bathroom during the night. In fact, not until the concierge’s desk rang the phone with a 6:30 A.M. wake-up call the next morning, did Vivian stir from her sleep.

The entire day that Vivian was voicing over the commercial, Babs continued to suffer, venturing out of bed only to run to the bathroom.

Around 7:00 P.M. Vivian opened the hotel door and found Babs watching television wrapped up in her blanket.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m alive.”

“If it’s any conciliation, it poured all day.” Vivian looked at her watch. “We only have this night left. Can you risk going out?”

“No. But I will.”

“Brownie made a reservation for us at the 21 Club just in case.”

Babs dragged her body into the bathroom. “Let me take a shower.”

•  •  •

The rain had stopped. It was such a gorgeous spring night when Vivian and Babs stepped out of the Plaza that they decided to walk to the restaurant instead of having the doorman hail a cab for them.

Arm-in-arm, they strolled down Fifth Avenue, window shopping and people watching till they reached 52nd Street and made a right. Halfway down the block was the four-story 21 Club and its famous line-up of 33 painted lawn jockey statues standing guard on the second floor balcony.