not. The part had more meat to it, and required more expertise, than anything Faye had ever done before.
“That's exactly what frightens me!” She laughed with her old friend as they looked out across the Bay. “What if I fall flat on my face?” It was like having a mother again, being able to talk to her, although Harriet was very different than her own mother had been. She was more sophisticated, more worldly, more knowledgeable about Faye's work. Margaret Price had really never understood anything about what Faye did or the world she had moved into, but she had certainly been proud of her. She bragged to everyone, and Faye was touched to realize how much her mother cared about it all whenever she went home. But there was no home to go back to now, no one she still cared about in her home town. Instead, there was Harriet, who meant a great deal to her. “I'm serious, what if I'm terrible?”
“In the first place, you won't be. And in the second, if you do fall on your face, and we all do from time to time, then you'll pick yourself up and try again, and do better next time. Probably much better, in fact. What's the matter with you? You've never been cowardly before, Faye Price.” The old woman sounded annoyed, but Faye knew it was all an act. “Do your homework and you'll be just fine.”
“I hope you're right.” The old woman growled at her in response, and Faye smiled. There was something so comforting about Harriet in many ways. They walked the hills of San Francisco side by side for five days and talked about everything from life, to the war, to their careers, to men. Harriet was one of the few people Faye really talked to. She was so wise and so bright and so funny. She was a rare, rare, woman and Faye was always grateful to have found her.
When the conversation turned to men, Harriet questioned her, and not for the first time, about why she never seemed to settle down with any one man.
“They're never quite right, I guess.”
“Some of them must be.” Harriet looked searchingly at her young friend. “Are you afraid?”
“Maybe. But I really don't think any of them have been right. I can have anything I want from them, orchids, gardenias, champagne, exotic evenings, fabulous nights, entree to some extraordinary parties, and in some cases expensive gifts, but that's never really been what I wanted. None of that seems real to me. It never has.”
“Thank God.” That was one of the reasons why Harriet liked her. “It isn't real. You've always been smart enough to see that. But there are other men in L.A., not just the fakers and the pretenders and the playboys.” Although they both knew that because of Faye's looks, and her star status, she attracted hordes of what Harriet loved to call the “glitter gluttons.”
“Maybe I just haven't had time to meet the right ones.” And the funny thing was that she could never imagine settling down with any of those men, even Gable. What she wanted was a slightly more sophisticated version of the men she would have met back home, in Grove City, the kind of guy who would shovel snow on a cold winter morning, and cut down a Christmas tree for the kids, and go for long walks with her and sit by a fire, or walk along beside a lake with her in summer … someone real … someone else she could talk to … someone who put her and the children ahead of all else, even his job … not someone who was looking to hitch his wagon to a star and get a great part in someone else's new movie. Thinking of that brought her mind back to her new film, and she questioned Harriet again about some of the subtleties of the script and the techniques she wanted to try. She liked being adventurous about her acting, and creative. As long as she wasn't creating a home and a family for someone, the least she could do was put all her creative energies into her career, and thus far she had done that with enormous success, as the whole world knew. But Harriet was still sorry that the right man hadn't come along. She sensed that that would bring out a dimension of Faye that hadn't been touched yet, a dimension which would enhance her both