Palais Royale in the 1980's Before Restoration
The car jockey at the Palais Royale reacted to the Packard as he might have responded to the Camaro—he was in total awe.
I was secretly glad and my heart swelled.
Cam was waiting inside the front doors to greet us. He stared at the car as we pulled up, and pulled me aside as we entered.
“Nice wheels! What did you do, rent a vintage auto for the occasion?”
“It’s not a rental—it’s mine.”
His jaw dropped.
“I’ll explain later,” I said.
At that moment, his wife, Nettie, showed up and I introduced Ella and Marilyn. Nettie seemed to like Marilyn right off the bat—not like the frosty reception she always gave Sam.
Cam clapped me on the back. I think he was unsure we’d show, but was now delighted we did.
“Your other friends are already here, so I got you all a table together.”
“Thanks Cam—too bad the weather didn’t cooperate for your big day.”
Nettie overheard and laughed, “It rained the day we got married—so, really, it’s quite appropriate.”
None of this June-spoon stuff for these two, I mused.
Some more guests arrived and I used the opportunity to escort Ella and Marilyn into the ballroom.
The room was decorated in the Thirties style with a huge mirrored globe suspended above the dance floor that sent stars spinning slowly around the ceiling.
I spotted Abe and Harry at a table near the band stage. “This way,” I directed Ella and Marilyn.
As we threaded our way through the guests, a glamorous girl with dark luxuriant hair came and sat down beside Abe.
She was wearing a blue sequined gown.
She reminded me of Jordan Baker in the 1974 film version of Gatsby—her hair styled in the same finger waves. As we approached closer, I heard her speak, and the dark, husky voice was also hauntingly similar.
Abe spotted me and jumped up to welcome us.
“This is some bash, Pal,” he yelped. “C’mere—I want you all to meet my wife, Mitzy.”
Mitzy stood to greet us.
Abe put his arm around Mitzy’s slender waist, almost bursting with pride. “This is Ella Whitcombe, Marilyn Birnam—and of course, this handsome lug here is Scott Lennox.”
“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” she replied in her husky, sensual voice.
She was the complete opposite of what I expected. I somehow pictured her as a harried housewife with frizzy hair—certainly not a seductive vamp.
Harry focused right in on Ella.
“I’m pleased to meet you, Ella—I’m Harry.” She graciously extended a hand toward him, and for a brief moment, I thought Harry would kiss it.
Abe tried to introduce Harry to Marilyn, but Harry only had eyes for Ella—and I could tell by Marilyn’s bemused smile, she didn’t mind being ignored at all.
Abe finally gave up and suggested, “Why don’t Scott and I go get some drinks from the bar?”
“Sure, sure,” said Harry, absently, smiling intently at Ella.
Abe took the orders and we made our way to bar at the back of the room.
“Marilyn looks sensational tonight,” Abe shouted over the happy din.
“I had no idea Mitzy was so beautiful,” I confessed.
“Yeah, for some reason, people are always surprised when they meet her—maybe cause they’re wondering what she’s doing with a Yahoo like me.”
I laughed. “Maybe they’re just surprised by her beauty.”
Abe looked at me and blinked. “That’s very nice of you to say, Scott—I’ll tell Mitzy later. You know women—always trying to win little victories.”
I grinned, thinking of Marilyn. “She’ll win her fair share, Abe.”
His eyes crinkled—I swear I saw a glitter of a tear—but then again, knowing Abe, probably not.
When we returned with the drinks, Harry and Ella were laughing about the old days and Marilyn and Mitzy were talking fashion. I smiled at Abe and he shrugged and grinned back. We could see how this night would go.
