Free Fallen Angels by Alice Duncan Page A

said, “Let me see if Mr. Templeton needs me for anything,
Mother. We run an extremely busy office here, you know.”
    Very well, so I’d just lied to my mother.
You’d have lied to her, too, if she were your mother.
    “Nonsense,” Mother said. “This job idiocy has got to
stop.”
    “No,” I said firmly. “It does not have to
stop. I like my job, and I intend to keep it.”
    “In that case,” said a voice from Ernie’s
office door, which now stood open revealing Ernie in his coat and
hat—his coat and hat were the first garments he removed in the
morning after he arrived at the office—“you won’t be messing around
in the current case, will you?”
    His smile was positively evil.
    “I don’t mess
around with any of your cases, Mr. Templeton, thank
you very much.”
    He ignored me. Removing the hat he’d so
recently donned, he bowed to my mother. It was an ironical bow, but
I’m pretty sure my mother didn’t know that. “How do you do, Mrs.
Allcutt? How nice to see you again.”
    Very well, so Ernie lies, too. He’s had more
practice in the activity than I, so his lie didn’t count.
    “And good day to you, too, Chloe. Good to see
you.”
    He wasn’t lying that time. Chloe and Ernie
liked each other.
    “Hey, Ernie. Good to see you, too.”
    Our mother said, “I’m perfectly exhausted,
young man, and I intend to take my daughter to luncheon.” She added
an imperious “Now,” to her command.
    “Be my guest,” said Ernie, plopping his
hat on his head once more. “See you back at the office after luncheon , Mercy, unless you decide
to use the sense God gave a flea.”
    And he left the office with one of his more
insouciant waves.
    “Deplorable manners,” Mother muttered. “I
don’t know how you can work for such a man, Mercedes Louise.”
    And I didn’t know why Mother persisted
in calling me Mercedes Louise every time she spoke to me. It’s not as if I didn’t know who
I was, for heaven’s sake.
    “Manners in Los Angeles are less rigid than
they are in Boston, Mother.” Resigning myself to my fate, I fetched
my hat—a cunning cloche that went well with the white shirt, blue
blazer, and gray flannel skirt I wore—and handbag from my
drawer.
    “Yes. I noticed that the last time I was
here. Shocking. Absolutely shocking.”
    Shocking, my eye. If she wanted shocking, I
could tell her some really shocking stories. Not that I ever would.
I had enough trouble with Mother already, and she only knew a mere
tenth or so of what my job entailed.
    “Then I’m surprised you and Father wish to
spend half the year here,” I said, knowing as I did so that I was
provoking the dragon.
    “You know very well why we plan on spending
our winters in California. For one thing, the weather in Pasadena
during the winter months is more salubrious than that in Boston.
For another thing, Pasadena, unlike Los Angeles, is a civilized
city.”
    So much for me.
    In silence we took the elevator down to
the lobby where Lulu wasn’t. She’d gone to lunch, too, I suppose.
It was just as well. I could tell her all about my luncheon with my mother when I came
back to the Figueroa Building and garner much sympathy from doing
so. Lulu had met my mother, too.
    In silence Chloe drove us to the Ambassador
Hotel, which was fairly new, and where all the so-called stars of
the moving-picture industry dined. I’d just as soon grab a tamale
and a lemonade from a street vendor or a corned-beef sandwich with
Lulu, but today I was with Mother, and Mother didn’t do things like
that. She’d undoubtedly faint if faced with a tamale, and I believe
I’ve already mentioned her feelings about corned beef.
    Chloe entered the restaurant first, which was
a good thing since the place was packed and the maître d’, who
smiled warmly at us, knew her and Harvey. Evidently she’d
telephoned ahead for a reservation, because he said, “Please come
this way, ladies. It’s a pleasure to see you again, Mrs. Nash.”
    “Thank you,