“Two of my clients have been accused,” David added. “We referred them to criminal lawyers. We don’t handle those cases. And I’ll bet there are going to be a lot more.”
“It sounds like it,” Melissa commented. “It happens in a lot of industries. But maybe not as blatantly as it does in Hollywood.” Some of the stories they were hearing were seriously offensive, and tragic in some cases when children and adolescents and very young actors were involved. It had ruined some lives, and was going to destroy a lot of careers. A number of actresses were saying that they had lost parts in important films when they wouldn’t agree to play along. “It’s all over the news in New England, and the East, and it must be an even bigger deal here.”
“It’s all anyone is talking about,” Michaela confirmed. “Marla says they deserve it. They’ve gotten away with it for a long time.”
Michaela’s adoptive mother was much on Melissa’s mind, since they were meeting for the first time at lunch the next day, and Melissa was still terrified by the prospect. Norm had done all he could to encourage her before she left. But her mind wouldn’t rest until the first encounter was over, if it went well. Michaela was sure it would.
Melissa left early after dinner and went back to the hotel. She watched the late news and more names had been added to the list, some of Melissa’s favorite actors, and she was sorry to see it. More and more victims were feeling empowered to speak up. It was a frenzy, but many of the claims were well founded. Only a few sounded bogus, trying to exploit the current trend. Almost all of them sounded all too real and credible. She turned off the TV and went to bed, and got up early the next morning. She was invited to be at the Fosters’ at noon, and lunch was at one. Michaela had said that David was making the turkey and the stuffing, and she was doing everything else, all the vegetables and the pies. They did a traditional Thanksgiving at their house every year, and Christmas at her mother’s, which she had catered by a restaurant. According to Michaela, Marla couldn’t boil water and never tried. She had a full staff to provide whatever she needed. But Michaela liked cooking with her husband. It reminded Melissa of Norm. It was too late to call him with the three-hour time difference when she got back to the hotel. She knew he’d be asleep, and was driving to his brother’s in Boston in the morning.
* * *
—
Melissa had coffee and toast at the hotel. She didn’t want to eat much, since she already knew that they were serving a big lunch. She was nervous about meeting the woman who had raised her daughter and stood in as her mother for thirty-three years. She wondered what she would have thought if they had met when Michaela was born, if she would have liked them, and wanted them to raise her daughter. She’d had no say in it, and they’d never met. It was all handled differently then. Birth mothers didn’t stay in their children’s lives, show up for holidays, or come to birthday parties. In those days, they disappeared out of the baby’s life. And they had no voice in who adopted their child. That was all much more recent. Melissa still felt strange about spending Thanksgiving with Marla and having lunch with her. And she was such a huge star.
She put on the brown velvet suit and it looked a little out of date, but not too much so. And she was wearing one of the pairs of high-heeled shoes she’d bought in New York. She had brown and gold earrings that looked like leaves that Carson had given her. They were antique topaz and he’d bought them in London. She was carrying an old brown alligator purse of her mother’s that she had saved but never used. She felt a little too proper when she looked in the mirror. She looked like her mother when she went to play bridge with her friends. But she wanted to look respectable and motherly, and didn’t want to embarrass Michaela.
She arrived right on time, and the children looked all clean and shined. Alexandra had on a pretty pink smocked dress, and Andy was wearing brown corduroy pants and a white shirt and red sweater, and his Superman sneakers. Michaela said he was supposed to be wearing loafers but he refused, and she went back to the kitchen to keep an eye on the Brussels sprouts. David was basting the turkey, and there was football on the TV.
The doorbell rang and no one answered, so Melissa got up to help. She told Michaela she’d get it, without thinking who it might be. She opened the door and found herself looking into the huge blue eyes of an older blond woman, with perfectly cut hair to her shoulders, diamonds on her ears, in brown velvet slacks and a cream satin blouse, high heels, and a huge gold bracelet on one wrist. She had a flawless figure and a perfect smile, and in an instant Melissa registered who it was. It was Marla Moore, who came in drifting a cloud of Chanel No. 5 behind her. She looked Melissa over appraisingly from head to foot, as Melissa felt her knees begin to shake.
“I am very glad to meet you,” Marla said in clipped upper class Eastern tones that Melissa recognized immediately, and she sounded as though she meant it. But she was an actress so it was hard to tell. “I’ve been hearing a lot about you from Michaela. You’re even younger than I thought you’d be. You must have been a baby yourself when you had her.” She got right to the point as they stood in the front hall and didn’t move. Melissa felt frumpy next to her. Everything Marla was wearing was fashionable, flattering, expensive, and chic.
“I was sixteen,” Melissa answered, feeling awkward.
“I’m twenty-four years older than you are,” Marla said and winced. “I was forty when she was born. My husband was sixty-two. We were old enough to be your parents,” she said, as Melissa digested the information. “I’ve been so nervous about meeting you,” she said, and Melissa was stunned to hear it.
“How can you be nervous to meet me? I’m just a woman who lives on a farm in New England. You’re one of the most famous women in the world, and the most glamorous woman I’ve ever seen.”
“Hardly. But thank you. I’ve read your books. I bought them when Michaela told me about you. They’re brilliant. Do you have any new ones in the pipeline?”
“I retired,” Melissa said quietly, touched by the praise.
“That’s ridiculous. Not at your age. I’m seventy-three and I have no intention of retiring until they drag me off the set in a body bag. Retiring kills people. Haven’t you heard?” They walked slowly into the living room then and sat down.
“I ran out of ideas,” Melissa said, feeling lame when she said it. The older woman sitting next to her on the couch was strong and vital and full of energy, and Melissa felt like a loser saying she’d retired.
“I doubt that. Just a hiatus. We all have them. The woman who wrote those books is full of ideas. I’m sure you have another ten or twenty books in you,” she said with another smile with her perfect teeth. She looked like a toothpaste ad, or the cover of Vogue. She looked like a famous movie star from head to toe, and her hands were perfectly manicured. Melissa hadn’t worn nail polish in seven years.