  There was still the party to be gotten through, and Peggy was so bothered by a sense of guilt at having ransacked Paula’s room that she was in no mood at all for the coming festivities. It was nearly ten o’clock, and Peggy and Amy had barely enough time to put away the copy of Shakespeare, give a few last-minute finishing touches to the table setting, and tune in some music on the little bedside radio, when Paula and Greta arrived. On seeing her friends and the festive spread, Paula almost burst into tears, but instead, she caught hold of herself and started to laugh. Peggy felt pleased, knowing that their gesture of friendship had touched a responsive chord in Paula’s reserve. At the same time, the pang of guilt quickened; she felt that she had betrayed the very friendship and trust she had been trying to cultivate. Greta whispered to Peggy that seven members of the cast had contributed to the Paula Fund, exactly matching the amount given by the girls at the Gramercy Arms, and Peggy went swiftly to the kitchenette to place fourteen candles on top of the rosebud cake. While Greta and Amy kept Paula occupied, Peggy lit the candles and brought the cake to the table. “We’re celebrating the fact that people are nice to people,” she explained, “if you only give them the chance. And that’s all the sermon that I intend to deliver this evening. We’re also celebrating the fact that you’re going to be able to eat this cake, and a lot more things besides beans and spaghetti from now on, Paula.” But after this speech, which she felt was stuffy and sadly inadequate, Peggy couldn’t think of another thing to say. She was far too concerned with the night’s revelations about Paula, and about what they could possibly mean. Amy did much better in keeping up her end of the conversation, and Greta, of course, knowing nothing of what had happened, acted with perfect ease. In any case, Peggy thought, Paula was too excited and pleased with her party to notice how anyone was acting. Not being the least bit hungry, Peggy forced herself to eat some of the cold cuts and cake, and to take a glass of milk. She could not help feeling like an awful hypocrite, sitting there and pretending to be a wholehearted friend to Paula, after she had just finished spying on her. Even if it had been—as it had—for her own good and the good of her obviously generous parents. Fortunately for Peggy, the party did not last too long. Paula was tired from the night’s rehearsal which, even though short, had tried her strength. By eleven o’clock she began to yawn unobtrusively, and seemed relieved when her three friends said their farewells. “Thank you,” she said warmly and with moist eyes, “for the lovely surprise party and—and everything else. And for being such good friends! I haven’t done anything to deserve such—” “Nonsense!” Peggy interrupted firmly, cutting off any further thanks, and waving good-by as the elevator door slid shut. The girls rode down in silence, Peggy and Amy depressed, Greta looking at them curiously. “All right,” Greta said when they reached the cool and empty street. “I could tell from the minute we came in that something was wrong. What is it?” As they strolled slowly downtown, Peggy told Greta about the night’s events, starting with the discovery of the make-up kit and what it told her about the background and history of their secretive friend. She then told, shamefaced, of her deliberate decision to search Paula’s room to learn more. “I couldn’t just turn my mind off!” she cried. “When I learned that Paula wasn’t a poor orphan after all, all I could think of was her parents and what they must be going through. I just had to find out how to reach them!” “Nobody’s blaming you, Peggy,” Greta said. “I would have done the same thing myself. There’s no reason to feel that you did anything bad, and I’m sure that when Paula finds out, even she will feel that you only acted out of concern for others.” Peggy respected Greta’s judgment, and her approval made things seem a lot better. With more confidence than before, and with no further apologies, she told Greta what she had learned from the labels in Paula’s clothes, and finally, about finding Paula’s home address in the copy of Shakespeare. “Well,” Greta said, “you certainly learned a lot tonight. But the thing that puzzles me is what you’re going to do next in order to find out who her parents are without arousing all kinds of suspicions and trouble. That is, unless you just want to write or phone to ‘Eagletop’ and tell them about Paula and her whereabouts.” “I’d rather not,” Peggy said. “I think it would be a lot better for Paula and her parents if she did that herself. But I also think that the only way to do it is to tell her that we know exactly who she is, and let her know that we intend to get in touch with her parents if she doesn’t do it herself.” “I suppose we could do that with the information we already have,” Amy said thoughtfully. “We could,” Peggy agreed, “but I would hate to blunder into something when we don’t have all the facts. When we find out just who Paula’s parents are, we may at the same time find some perfectly good reason why she shouldn’t call them. I’d like to give her the full benefit of the doubt until we have all the information we need.” Greta nodded. “I think that makes sense,” she said. “The only problem we have left now,” Peggy said with a frown, “is to find a way to get the information we need without stirring things up. If only we knew someone in Los Angeles we could trust, it would be easy. Do either of you have any ideas?” Amy and Greta furrowed their brows and shook their heads. Suddenly Greta slapped herself on the forehead and grinned. “Of course! Of course I know somebody—and so do you!” “Who?” Peggy and Amy asked in chorus. “Dot!” Greta said triumphantly. “Our housemate, Dot! You know she’s on tour with a show—and I know that her company is either in Los Angeles now, or is due to open there in a few days! We can get in touch with her at her hotel, and ask her to do some sleuthing for us. Besides, she comes from California in the first place, and she knows her way around Los Angeles. It should be easy for her to find out what we want to know!” “That’s a wonderful idea,” Peggy said enthusiastically. “Now all we have to do is go back to the Gramercy Arms and find her touring schedule and get in touch with her in Los Angeles. I can’t wait! Let’s hurry up, and if she’s in town now, we can phone right away!” Greta looked at her watch. “If she is there, it’s too late to phone now. It’s eleven-thirty here, which makes it eight-thirty in California, and that means that the curtain is just getting ready to go up on the first act of her show. We’ll just have to be patient until tomorrow, and call her at her hotel.” “If she’s in Los Angeles now,” Amy said. “There’s only one way to find out,” Peggy commented, “and that’s to get back to the Gramercy Arms before May Berriman goes to bed, and ask to see Dot’s traveling schedule. Otherwise we’ll have to wait until tomorrow even to know where Dot is, and I’m afraid I won’t be able to get any sleep tonight unless I know.” The girls increased their pace and covered the remaining blocks to Gramercy Park in record time. They hurried up the steep front steps of the Gramercy Arms, happy to see that the sitting-room light was on in May Berriman’s apartment. As soon as the door was opened, Peggy, breathless with running and excitement, asked if they could see Dot’s itinerary. “And I’m sorry we’re bothering you so late,” she added, “but we saw your light on, and....” May Berriman dismissed the apology with a small gesture of her expressive hands. “No trouble at all, Peggy,” she said. “When you get to be my age, you’ll find that sleep isn’t quite as attractive or necessary as it used to be. I personally resent having to give up perfectly good hours to what I consider an utter waste of time. Sit down, girls. I’ll have what you need in a minute.” In less time than that, she was back with a sheet of notepaper, which she handed to Peggy. A moment’s looking, and a quick calculation of dates, brought a sigh of disappointment. Peggy looked at the expectant faces of Greta and Amy, and nodded unhappily. “She’s still in Salt Lake City, according to this. The show closes there tonight, and they won’t arrive in Los Angeles for two more days.” “What’s this all about?” May Berriman asked. “That is, if I’m not butting in on something that’s not my business.” “It’s about Paula,” Peggy explained. “You know, the girl we’re all chipping in to help. We ... we’ve got an idea about something that may help her, only we need some information that’s in California, and we hope Dot can get it for us.” “Well, Peggy,” May Berriman said with a smile, “when they give out prizes for artful dodging, I’m going to recommend you for a first! If you didn’t want to answer my question, you only had to say so.” Blushing, Peggy stammered, “I ... I didn’t mean ... I mean, it’s not as if there’s anything to hide ... I just....” “There’s no reason why we shouldn’t tell May,” Greta said. “Besides, she might have some ideas that could help us.” “All right,” Peggy said, after a moment’s reflection. “I don’t mind at all telling you about Paula, May. That’s not the point. It’s just that I did something tonight that I’m a little uncomfortable about, and I didn’t like the idea of telling you about that. Still, I did it, and there’s no changing it, so you might as well know the kind of girl I am.” “The kind of girls we are,” Amy commented. “After all, I did it, too, and I’m no more casual about it than you are.” May Berriman sat down in her tall, straight-backed chair, folded her hands in her lap and assumed an attentive look. “You can start talking now,” she said a little sternly. Peggy’s story did not take long, and when she was done, she looked anxiously at the owner of the Gramercy Arms. “Do you think we did the right thing?” she asked. “Your motives in searching Paula’s room were certainly good ones,” May Berriman said judicially, “and you didn’t actually break in, even if you did enter on slightly false pretenses. All in all, I’d say that you haven’t anything to be ashamed of. I also like your decision to get the rest of the facts and talk to Paula about them before you contact her parents. That’s both wise and considerate.” Peggy felt a sense of relief, knowing that May, a stern and impartial judge of her girls’ conduct, approved of her night’s undertaking. “It’s been a pretty difficult time, May, as you can well imagine,” she said. “But I suspect the next few days until Dot gets to Los Angeles will be even more difficult. The three of us are simply bursting with impatience.” “Impatience,” May Berriman said in her most theatrical voice, “is for amateurs waiting in the wings ten minutes before their cue. My best advice to you is to relax—until it’s time to go on. There’s no way to hurry the action.” Of course, May was right. There was no way to hurry the action. On the other hand, Peggy, Amy, and Greta found that there was also no easy way to relax. The next two days dragged by only as days can drag when you want nothing more than for them to come to an end. Rehearsals, school, studying, all took up many hours, but for the first time since Come Closer had started casting, Peggy seemed to have extra hours in the day. And each of those extra hours seemed like a day in itself. As she went through the now-familiar routine of crowded days and nights, she could not rid her mind of the thought of Paula Andrews and of—somewhere—Paula’s parents, wondering where she was. And as Paula began to bloom from her new, nourishing diet, Peggy seemed to fade with her preoccupations. But nothing lasts forever, and soon the two long days were at an end. The girls put in their phone call at noon, knowing that it was only nine in Los Angeles and that Dot would surely be asleep at that hour after a late arrival the night before. It seemed a pity to wake her, but it was better than waiting and taking a chance of missing her entirely. “What? Who? Where?” Dot’s voice, fogged with sleep and confusion, came over the three thousand miles of telephone wire as clearly as if she had been next door. “It’s me, Dot! Peggy Lane. In New York!” “Why?” Dot demanded, this time a little less foggy. “It’s wonderful to hear your nice, friendly, wide-awake, noontime New York voice,” she said in her normal peppery manner, “but not when I was in the middle of a dream about landing a movie lead that was going to get me an Oscar!” “I’m sorry to wake you, Dot,” Peggy said, “but this is important, and I didn’t want to find that you’d gone out. We want you to do a favor for us.” “What is it?” Dot asked. “It must be darned important to spend all this money to call.” “Dot, it’s too complicated to explain why I want you to do what I’m going to ask, so don’t ask why. I want you to go to a house called Eagletop, on Canyon Road in Beverly Hills, only don’t go in. I want you to find out, in whatever way you can, who lives there. Also, I’d like you to find out if they have a daughter and where she is.” “And how am I going to do this without going in?” Dot asked. “And why can’t I go in, anyway? I could just ring the bell and ask—” “No!” Peggy exclaimed. “That’s just what you can’t do. And I can’t go into the whys, as I said. I’ll write you a letter. Meanwhile, the important thing is to learn what you can, and not to let anyone in the house know that you’re asking questions.” “Well, if you say it’s important to do it this way,” Dot answered, “I’ll do my best. But how...?” “You’ll think of a way,” Peggy said cheerfully. “You’re a bright girl!” “Thanks,” Dot said sourly. “Your compliment puts the whole thing on my shoulders ... which is what you had in mind, I guess.” “Well, you know the city, and we don’t, and—” Peggy began. “I know, I know,” Dot cut her off. “Don’t worry about it. I only have to know one thing more. What do you want me to do when I find the answers?” “Call here,” Peggy said. “If I’m not here, tell Amy or Greta or May, but not one other person. Understand?” “Okay,” Dot agreed, “and I feel a lot better, knowing May’s in on it.” “Good. When do you think you can go up there?” “Right after breakfast,” Dot said. “I’ll phone you by three this afternoon—that’s six in New York. Will you be there?” “You bet!” Peggy said. “And thanks a million, Dot!” Peggy replaced the phone and turned to her friends. “We’ll have whatever answers Dot can dig up today. She’ll phone us by six. That is, if she doesn’t go back to sleep again.” “And if I know our Dot,” Greta commented, “that’s a darned big ‘if.’” |
|
