Leon Uris (31 page)

“Sorry I had to miss Twain,” Ben mused. “He’s not an imitation English writer, but the first pure American author.”

“It was some scene. The Barjac family sitting in a semicircle around Mark Twain and the kids listening like he was a holy man. George Barjac amazes me, how he controls that platoon of his.”

“Mark Twain and George Washington Barjac and Madame Fifi. You should see Barjac’s organizational chart. The empire is broken into interdependent regiments commanded by sons and sons-in-law. Max, the oldest, runs the eight-thousand-acre plantation. George has two magnificent clipper ships, the
Bunker Hill
and the
Yorktown.
No raiders get in their way. They carry heavy artillery and a crew of sharpshooters. The
Bunker Hill
takes the Maryland tobacco directly to Marseilles to their cigarette factory. The
Yorktown
cruises the Mediterranean markets in Morocco, Syria, and Turkey for blending tobacco.

“Barjac has taken over a plantation in the Vuelta Abajo Valley of Cuba. World’s prime cigar leaf. They’ve a slew of Chinese coolies, the best cigar hand wrappers anywhere. A son-in-law, the tall guy . . .”

“Laroque, Collette’s husband.”

“Yeah, Laroque, he’s important. So inside the family, we have the banker, the lawyer, the distribution, etcetera, etcetera. George runs a tight regiment. But, Zachary my man, let us not bullshit. You’re not really interested in them. You want to know about Lilly Villiard.”

“Did you not set me up, Ben?”

“Maybe I did. I thought you’d need some diversion after you heard from Amanda. I was worried about how it might affect your work.”

“Amanda Kerr is out of my life.”

Ben wasn’t so sure but didn’t press the matter. “What do you want to know about Lilly?”

“The usual.”

“The Barjac women would rather flirt than breathe, but I think they stay close to home.”

“Lilly is the one who comes to Newport alone,” Zach said.

“Lilly is the only one not involved in the Barjac family business. She and her husband run a big show in Paris part of the year, and that’s her life. Her social power is the flame. Otherwise her marriage is flat. Her father, George, has always had remorse about pushing his way into the Paris scene at her expense.

“For years,” Ben went on, “she brought her twins to Newport. Her daughter, Chantel, is married into a gruesome Swiss banking family and has a couple of kids of her own. The boy, Maurice, has taken up grave robbing with his father. So Lilly comes alone. I’ve known her since birth. She’s exquisite and very sad. George and Fifi give her a lot of slack. Anything else, Zach?”

“Did you ever fancy her?” Zach asked bluntly.

“It might have passed through my mind, but a Marine does not fuck the married daughter of his best buddy.”

“I’d better drop out of the Onde la Mer scene. I’ll end up screwing up your friendship with the Barjacs.”

“If the lady invites you to her villa, maybe you should go.”

•
27
•

Glen’s former wife, Nini Constable, was able to hold a small fixed smile when she turned her daughter, Dixie Jane, over to Amanda for the balance of the summer. Nini’s emotions were always well contained, but she did pale at the sight of Amanda Kerr’s stunning beauty.

The ex and the possibly future Mrs. Constable greeted each other with civility as Amanda showed Nini where the daughter would be “camped out.”

Nini Porter Constable could be graded among her cast as “Elite Standard.” She was a well-trained lady who functioned smartly but by rote. Neither passionate rage nor uproarious high spirits could penetrate her bland wall.

Amanda and Nini exchanged an afternoon of dull pleasantries about Dixie Jane’s care. The girl managed to look pious and promised her mother to be a model houseguest.

And by the by, if you need to get in touch during the last few weeks of August, here is the address of Mr. Rudolph Dorfman in Asbury Park, just in case, you know.

When Nini left, Amanda and Dixie Jane went into hugs of unrestrained exuberance and ordered up banana splits to be served on the veranda. They went over a few ideas for the summer and the incoming tutors. Amanda was so damned glad she was here.

They had parted happy with each other at the Constable farm, and Amanda realized Dixie Jane had made a mark on her.

Amanda got to thinking about Amanda. She really had missed Dixie Jane and wondered about the new role . . . big sister . . . extra mother . . . perhaps an announcement during the upcoming winter season. Dixie Jane made it comfortable.

Actually, her name was Virginia Jane. She had a dog named Dixie who had gone to dog heaven when Virginia was only five. So great was her grief, she changed her name to Dixie in remembrance of her first great friend.

The Constable family, Virginians all, felt the name suited, so Dixie it was, sort of a last hurrah for the Old South.

“But I don’t want to go horseback riding,” Dixie Jane emoted. “That’s all I ever do at Grandpa’s farm.”

“You’ve never ridden on a beach,” Amanda said.

“I prefer to sail, or rock-climb, or simply meditate. I don’t want to go riding.”

“I guess I’ll have to find some other little girl to give these to,” Amanda said, holding up boy’s riding britches.

“Oh . . . oh . . . oh . . . let’s go riding!”

Once Amanda hefted Dixie up into the saddle, the girl never wanted to come down again. And when they sailed, Dixie wanted to sail over the horizon. And when they played a duet at the piano, she dreamed she was giving a concert.

They raced the beaches at sunset, wild rides to Valhalla, and they found the coves of the Hebrides. They skinny-dipped at night and read Mark Twain on their bellies before the fire.

Glen Constable had feared that his daughter might become a lifelong victim of the divorce. She had gone from a chattery little butterfly to a doll-clutching, whiny, very lonely person.

Particularly after Rudolph Dorfman became a caller. He tried to be nice to Dixie, but she knew the only reason he was doing so was so that he could get close to her mother.

His beard was black and scratchy. All his family in Richmond had scratchy beards; even the women scratched.

Mr. Dorfman tried to make jokes that were so bad even he didn’t think they were funny. Rudolph Dorfman and his scratchy brothers had a big department store in Richmond. He offered to let Dixie Jane take anything she wanted. She only took a few hair ribbons so as not to make him feel bad, but she hoped her mother got the message.

Nini didn’t. Oh, Mother will be in Asbury Park during the last half of August! How charming!

When Glen Constable came to Newport on his weekends and otherwise, he could scarcely believe the change in his daughter and he was grateful for the deepening relationship between Dixie and Amanda.

When Daddy left, did those two have fun!

Newport was like a seven-layer Viennese cake, from the grandeur of the family names to the beaches on which every sailor wanted to be washed up.

Yachts of the New Yorkers took over. In due course, the New Yorkers would probably own the yacht club as well.

. . . came their great moment every day when the sun went under the yardarm at the yacht club and the cannon boomed, nary a moment late, the gentlemen’s bar was open for business.
Boom!
crackled the cannon, and in came the skippers, and conversation grew giddy after one drink . . . and a number of toppers.

At the bottom layer of the cake there was a pleasure park all lit up and a plunking banjo at a black nightclub on the wharf. By day the water was filled with tiny one-sail dinghies fit for two persons
and beaches where some of the women paddled in the waves and oodles of sweet shops and saloons filled up with horny sailors.

Dixie Jane and Amanda spent a great deal of their days away from Tobermory.

Their favorite fun was to take a sunset ferry cruise around the bay, fill up on hot dogs, lick off mustard, and slurp a bottomless sundae. The dance floor would fill up with couples tripping the light fantastic.

Dixie Jane gasped the first time a sailor asked Amanda to dance. Amanda could dance wildly. She was nice but never too friendly. Came the incredible moment a young man of ten or eleven asked Dixie to dance. Most of all, Amanda and Dixie liked dancing with each other, as a number of women without beaux did.

. . . when it became dark the shore line lit up like a foreign port one was just entering. They skimmed past an exhilaration of whirling lights of the pleasure park. As the sound of the calliope drifted out to the revelers on the ferry, Amanda would suddenly become sad and hold Dixie Jane’s hand, tightly.

They paddled into darkness, mansions in the distance, mystical inlets.

And sentimental singing and lovers spooning on the darker sides of the decks.

And happy trippers came down the gangplank weary, with “Moonlight Bay” growing more and more distant.

Glen Constable lowered his eyes when Amanda emerged from the cabana onto the beach, as though Lady Godiva of Coventry were passing. Her swimming costume wasn’t exactly vulgar and they
were
on Tobermory’s private beach, but her arms were completely bare and her legs were bare well above the knee and the neck and back were daringly scooped and the material rather clingy.

Even Dixie Jane’s suit was more modest, but Amanda had her own ideas of sporting wear . . . those boys’ riding britches . . . well . . .

Amanda gave Dixie and her playmates stern instructions. They decided to go crabbing on the nearby pier.

Amanda ran and dived into the water without a swimming cap and stroked a good hundred yards. One didn’t see too many women actually swimming. Their suits would balloon up with water. Women waded. Amanda swam.

She ran back, checked Dixie Jane, passed on a wicker strand chair, and spread a big Indian blanket on the sand. What with her wetness and the thin stuff of her suit, Glen could distinguish both cheeks of her backside and her nipples.

She toweled off, lay on her tummy, stretched and groaned and let the sun kiss her. Glen sat alongside in position to be able to watch the kids at the pier.

“Horace seems in good form,” Glen said.

“He’s really enjoying the sailing this year. Maybe we’ll take a run with him next week.”

“That would be dandy. Over cigars last night, he conveyed both of your passions to build the Amanda Kerr College.”

“For women,” Amanda added. “I hope we can find the right piece of land and break ground by next year at this time. How proud and puzzled parents will be looking up to the stage with their daughters holding diplomas. A premedical graduate on her way to Johns Hopkins. It makes my heart beat so fast thinking about it. Every day seems to tell me I’m heading into the best of life.”

“I think you will become one of the most looked-up-to—no, adored women in the country.”

“Poo,” she answered.

Glen now wore his uncertain look. “I wake up some mornings and my heart clutches. No Amanda. Is she real?” He stopped.

“We’re fine, Glen,” she consoled.

“I don’t wish to complicate matters, but you are so enchanting and I’m over the hill.”

“Not so. You are handsome, clever, kind, and a wonderful father.”

“Amanda . . .”

“I don’t want to discourage you, nor am I putting you off. It
would not be fair to either of us until a number of things are resolved.”

“Is O’Hara one of them?”

“He’s certainly a part of it. I was shocked when I learned he would be stationed in Newport, but I am also surprised at how little it has annoyed me.”

That cheered him up, some.

“Everything I see about you assures me, Glen. I know I love Dixie Jane. I know I want my college, but you and I haven’t been together that long. Perhaps by the time summer is done, I’ll know for sure.”

Amanda eased her shoulder straps down in order to leave no marks. Her back glistened. Glen dropped a few grains of sand on her and she cooed.

“Sometimes, I’m afraid to touch you.”

Amanda rolled over to him, sloe-eyed. “Give us a kiss, Glen, we won’t melt.”

“Dixie might see us.”