Morning Glory(50)

The room goes quiet, and I realize that Lana Turner has made her entrance. Dexter stands up, beaming, as she walks to our table. She’s the epitome of Hollywood glamour: blond hair, curled around her face; perfectly applied lipstick; mile-long lashes; and an evening gown with a sweetheart neckline. “Darling,” she says to Dex. “Thank you for coming.” She kisses his cheek, then turns to me. “You must be Penny.”

“Yes,” I say. My voice sounds like a mere squeak compared with her deep, confident tone. She’s closer to Dex’s age than mine. I feel like a girl in the presence of a woman.

“I am absolutely taken with your husband’s talent,” she says to me. “I hope you don’t mind that I’m borrowing him for a little while. I promise I’ll return him in one piece.”

I smile nervously. She’s the kind of woman who gets what she wants. I can tell. I wonder what it’s like to be that sort. To be able to order whatever you like, whomever you like, and have it delivered to you on a domed silver platter.

“Ladies,” Dexter says, standing up. “May I fetch you drinks from the bar?”

“A Manhattan, please, darling,” Lana says.

“A martini is fine, thank you,” I add.

Lana lights a cigarette, then turns to me. “I’ve just been through the most horrific divorce,” she says. “The third wasn’t a charm, so I thought the fourth would be.” She inhales, then blows smoke in my direction. “But, no luck.” She’s hard not to like, even though I’m wary of her allure. She looks toward the bar, where Dex stands. “He’s quite a catch,” she continues. “How did you meet?”

I can’t believe she’s actually interested in the story, but her eyes remain fixed on mine, so I tell her about Miss Higgins Academy, how Dex pulled his car over in the rain. Lana smiles. Her face is animated.

“Care for a cigarette?” she asks, noticing me tugging at my fingers.

“No, I don’t smoke.”

“You’re young, aren’t you, dear?”

“I’m twenty-two.”

Lana smiles. She must be at least thirty-nine, forty maybe. “Can I ask you something?”

I nod.

“Your heart is elsewhere,” she says, blowing smoke into the air. “Where?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know what you mean.”

She smiles knowingly. “I’m not going to tell. We girls have to keep these things to ourselves. And, honey, I know a thing or two about love. Hell, I’ve been unhappy in love most of my life. I learned the hard way not to hinge my happiness on a man.”

“But I don’t—”

“I don’t mean to upset you, sweetheart,” she says. “I just saw something in your eyes, that’s all. Your husband is a fine man. But don’t lose sight of who you are.” She winks. “That’s all I’m saying. I know because I’ve done it, and it doesn’t work.”

“But you seem so happy,” I say.

“My dear, I’ve spent so many years chasing happiness,” she explains, smiling to herself. “But happiness doesn’t help you to grow. Only unhappiness does that.”

A moment later, Dex returns with the drinks, and I try to take in what she’s just said.



I board a plane home to Seattle the next afternoon. Alone. I never did see Lana Turner’s home, nor did I want to, really. I decide it’s better that way. And on the plane, I try not to think about her offering Dex a cocktail. I try not to think of him admiring the curve of her hips.

“Care for a drink?” the stewardess asks, jarring me from my private thoughts.

“No, thank you,” I say. Instead, I think of Collin. I think of the way he held me just hours ago, the way he ran his fingers through my hair. I think of the way he made me feel. I recall the longing in his eyes. I shake my head. How did it come to this? I imagined a happy marriage, with babies in the nursery, a little garden, and lots of love. I have none of these things. I watch a couple in the seats to my left, across the aisle, share a brief kiss, and I shudder to myself.



I don’t see Collin on his deck when I arrive back on the dock. I steal glances out the window as I’m making dinner or sorting the laundry, but there’s no sign of him, not even the flicker of light from his houseboat. I put on a record and pour a glass of wine. Was he hurt when he saw Dex and me leaving for California together? He must have known that I had no idea the trip was happening. Surely he’d understand. It’s getting late, so I change into my nightgown and wrap my pink silk robe around me. It’s floor-length and trimmed around the hem and cuffs with fluffy pink fur.