Blinking through sudden tears, Ruby made her way back to Patricia. When she heard Mariangela cry, her breasts ached with the fullness of milk.
For now, her baby needed her. Of all her roles, Ruby relished this one the most, as exhausting as it was. Mariangela was a pure little soul, unfettered by the demands of mortgages and money that plagued her mother.
* * *
By mid-June, three months after birth, Mariangela had gained weight and taken on a healthy glow. Ruby had nursed Mariangela through the child’s tenuous beginning to her life, and Patricia could now relieve her for longer periods.
Now, under sunny skies, Ruby pushed Blaze on, galloping through pastures on the first ride she’d had since Mariangela was born. After they returned, Blaze neighed and pranced, and Ruby fed her a treat of carrots. As glorious as the day was, Ruby was feeling anxious about returning to work. She hated to leave Mariangela, but it was necessary. Spring rains had been sparse, and the summer heat was settling in early.
After returning to the house, Ruby stopped in the kitchen to wash up before seeing her baby. Her brother-in-law walked into the kitchen.
“Have a good ride?” Michael asked.
As Ruby dried her hands on a cotton dish towel, she grinned. “The best. When you haven’t been able to do something you love, it’s even sweeter when you finally can.”
“If it weren’t for you and Patricia, little Mari wouldn’t have had a chance.”
Mari. Michael had given the baby this nickname, saying that Mariangela was too long for him to pronounce, even though Ruby thought the name rolled beautifully off Patricia’s tongue. Ruby wanted her baby to appreciate her Italian heritage as she grew older. If only Mariangela could have known Niccolò.
“Letter for you in here,” Michael said, depositing the post on the kitchen table.
Ruby’s heart fluttered with anticipation. Despite what she felt about Niccolò’s possible demise, every time Michael brought the mail from the post office, she checked it, praying that Vivienne had received mail and forwarded it. But now, nine months since she’d heard from him, the chance was growing slimmer by the week.
“It’s from my agent.” Ruby slid open the envelope, postmarked Hollywood.
Scanning the letter, Ruby felt a surge of hope.
“What’s good ol’ Joseph have to say?” Michael asked.
“He’s made arrangements for me to go to the premiere of Roman Holiday in New York. It’s in August, and he’s sending a train ticket.” Ruby’s pulse quickened. Perhaps it was too much to hope for, but she prayed that by some miracle, Niccolò—if he were alive—might find a way to attend the premiere. Or maybe someone among the cast or crew had seen him or heard from him.
Ruby pulled out a sheet of writing paper from a kitchen drawer. Taking a pen, she quickly composed a brief letter.
Send the ticket. I’ll meet you there. And then she added, Will be ready for auditions then. Must return to work.
After tucking the letter into an envelope, she licked the flap and sealed it with the prayer that Niccolò might somehow be there. Or, at the very least, she might learn what had happened to him.
Chapter 28
New York, 1953
* * *
Ruby stood before a full-length mirror at the Plaza Hotel while the studio’s costume supervisor tried to zip her into a strapless, lemon-yellow dress with a nipped waist.
“Will it close?” Ruby asked, sucking in her stomach.
“It’s good until the bustline,” David said. “And I had this made to your exact measurements from last summer.” Looking askance at her fuller figure, he asked, “How did you blossom so in under a year?”
Ruby shrugged. “I’ve been doing a lot of special exercises.” She’d tried to wean Mariangela before she left, but her décolletage was definitely more impressive than last year.
Arching an eyebrow, David eyed her with a measure of disbelief. “Must be quite the exercises. You were skinny as a whippet last year.”
As he marked the dress with straight pins and dressmaker’s chalk, Ruby summoned her courage. “Have you heard anything from Niccolò since last summer?” If a sliver of a chance remained that Niccolò was still alive, she might discover a clue here among those they had worked with on the set.
David removed a pin from his mouth. “Your sweetheart? Oh, gee, I’m sorry to say I haven’t. I thought you two kids would stick.”
Ruby blinked back tears that rushed to her eyes.
“Oh, come on now, sweetheart.” He handed her a tissue. “In this business, it’s hard to know anyone, especially actors. Then you get to know them—the real person—and the relationship is never the same. A lot of folks in this biz are just putting on an act.”
“Not all of us,” Ruby said, although she certainly was now. Perhaps more than anyone else.
“I don’t know about that,” David said. “You’ve sure changed from that naïve girl I met last summer. Is it an act, or is it for real?”
“Maybe I’ve just grown up,” Ruby replied. Was it that obvious?
“Beautifully, too.” David stepped back to appraise his work. “Word around town is that you’re in the running for Charlie’s next leading lady.” At that, he frowned. “But watch out for him. Bad temper. He blows hot and cold.”
Not unlike her father. “I can handle that.”
David clapped his hands. “Give me fifteen or twenty minutes, and you’ll be red-carpet-ready. Now, off with the dress.”
Curving up a corner of her mouth, Ruby motioned for David to turn around while she slipped off her dress and put on a Plaza Hotel robe.
While she waited, Ruby put on the costume jewelry David had brought for her to wear, along with a special piece she’d brought with her. Soon, he returned with the dress. This time, it was a perfect fit.
Ruby made her way from the icy air conditioning of the Plaza outside into the muggy heat of New York. Cars were waiting to ferry them to the premiere. Ruby was so nervous she could hardly speak. What if Niccolò were there?
Their line of cars stopped, and Ruby stepped from the vehicle at the curb. The marquee above blazed the title, Roman Holiday. Ahead of her was Audrey Hepburn, who wore a strapless evening dress and opera-length white gloves. The actress’s short, pixie haircut looked cool and chic, while Ruby’s wavy locks were already sticky on her neck.
“This way, Miss Hepburn,” a photographer called out.
Ruby watched as Audrey paused on the red carpet to flash her wide smile and wave. She admired how Audrey and the rest of the cast looked so effortlessly stylish and confident, despite the heatwave that gripped the city this late August day. Though Ruby was used to such temperatures, she wasn’t accustomed to wearing evening wear in the heat.
While cameras flashed and popped, Ruby touched the silver half-heart pendant she wore and turned to scan the crowd, longing to see the one person she’d hoped would be here.
Niccolò. If only…
“Move along, miss.” One of the organizers waved her onto the red carpet. “It’s your turn.”