Free Fallen Angels by Alice Duncan Page B

Houston. This is my mother, Mrs.
Allcutt, and my sister, Miss Allcutt.”
    Houston, a tall, dignified fellow who looked
rather oldish, with white hair and moustache and a perfectly
splendid black suit, bowed to us both. His bow wasn’t ironical at
all. His living depended on kowtowing to people who considered
themselves important, so he probably didn’t dare be anything but
absolutely respectful until after he got off work. After that, I
suspected he and his cronies laughed a lot at the airs and graces
some people adopted. I did notice that Chloe slipped something into
his hand as she stepped aside to introduce Mother and me, so I have
a feeling he’d had to make room for us, probably by ousting some
other, more deserving, diners. Money talks. Even I know that.
    He held chairs for Mother, Chloe, and then
me. I smiled at him, and he smiled back, which was nice.
    Naturally, as soon as we were seated, Mother
started in on me. “You’re deplorably underdressed for dining in
this restaurant, Mercedes Louise.” She looked around the room with
an upper-crust sneer. “Even if it is in Los Angeles.”
    “I didn’t know you were going to make me go
to the Ambassador for luncheon, Mother,” said I, snapping my menu
open.
    “Make you go
to the Ambassador? I should think you’d be grateful for a nice meal
instead of devouring one of the corned-beef sandwiches Chloe has
informed me you feed on regularly.”
    I shot a scowl at Chloe, but I couldn’t
really blame her for telling on me. After all, she had to say
something to our mother, who was a difficult conversationalist at
the best of times. Therefore, my scowl only lasted a second before
I grinned at my sister. “I adore corned-beef sandwiches,” I said to
Mother. “With sauerkraut, especially.”
    Mother would have shuddered had she been
another sort of woman. She wasn’t. Instead, she pressed her lips
together and decided to save her guns for the bigger battle, which,
I suspected, would be that of forcing me to move in with her and
Father.
    * * * * *
    Talk about grueling! I’m surprised I survived
that luncheon with Chloe and our mutual mother with my skin intact.
The entire meal, except when we were chewing, was devoted to my
lack of family feeling, disgraceful behavior, and general moral
laxity.
    I more or less staggered into the Figueroa
Building at one-thirty or thereabouts, having left Mother steaming
in Chloe’s machine, and not from the heat of the day, but from the
heat of her anger with me. Thank God Lulu LaBelle had returned from
her own lunch (short form) and occupied the desk in the lobby,
where she sat in one of her more astonishing costumes, filing her
nails. She filed her nails almost constantly. I’m not sure why.
    As soon as Lulu saw me, she jumped to her
feet. “Oh, Mercy! Ernie told me about your mother. I’m so
sorry!”
    Removing my hat and sinking slowly into the
chair before Lulu’s desk, I whimpered, “It was awful, Lulu.”
    “Where’d she take you?”
    Lulu asked the question almost avidly, and I
might have resented her tone except that I understood Lulu knew I’d
come from “money,” as Ernie so inelegantly put it, because she’d
told me Ernie’d ratted on me. Lulu came from the same small town in
Oklahoma where her brother had originated. I’m sure she expected me
to have gone somewhere grand. And I had. Not that I’d wanted
to.
    “The Ambassador,” I said, still
whimpering.
    “The Ambassador? Oh, my!”
    Lulu’s breathy voice told me how much she’d
like to go to the Ambassador for a meal someday. Next time my
mother ordered me to go to luncheon with her, maybe I’d send Lulu
in my stead.
    But no. I couldn’t do that to Lulu. She
didn’t deserve my mother any more than I did.
    “Did you see any stars?” Lulu asked.
    “Stars?” Had I seen any? Boy, I hadn’t even
dared look around. I’d pretty much just tried to choke down my
lobster thermidor and not wither under Mother’s blistering scorn.
“I’m sorry,