“Very much of little consequence has transpired since last we met, my dear. Let’s sit down for a drink and talk about none of it.”
To which she had replied, “There is nothing I would rather not talk about, Billy, and nobody whom I would rather not talk about it with!”
Billy once told me, in front of Edna, “So many men had the pleasure of having their hearts broken by our dear Edna, back when I knew her in London so long ago. I didn’t happen to be one of them, but that’s only because I was already in love with Peg. But back in her prime, Edna cut down man after man. It was something to see. Plutocrats, artists, generals, politicians—she mowed them all to bits.”
“No, I didn’t,” Edna protested—while smiling in a manner that suggested: Yes, I did.
“I used to love to watch you break a man apart, Edna,” Billy said. “You did it so beautifully. You broke them with such force that they would be enfeebled forever, and then some other woman could come and scoop them up and control them. It was a service to humanity, really. I know she looks like a little doll, Vivian, but never underestimate this woman. She is to be respected. Be aware that there’s an iron spine hidden under all those stylish clothes of hers.”
“You give me far too much credit, Billy,” said Edna—but again, she smiled in a manner that suggested: You, sir, are absolutely correct.
A few weeks later, I was fitting Edna in my apartment. The dress I’d designed was for her final scene. Edna wanted it to be sensational, and so did I. “Make me a dress I have to live up to” had been her direct instruction—and forgive my boasting, but I had done it.
It was an evening gown composed of two layers of robin’s-egg-blue silk soufflé, draped with sheer rhinestone netting. (I’d found a bolt of the silk at Lowtsky’s and had spent nearly all my personal savings on it.) The dress sparkled with every movement—not in a garish way, but like light reflected on water. The silk clung to Edna’s figure without clinging too hard (she was in her fifties, after all) and there was a slit up the right side so she could dance. The effect was to make Edna look like a fairy queen, out for a night on the town.
Edna loved it, and was spinning in the mirror, to capture every twinkle and gleam.
“I swear, Vivian, you’ve somehow made me look tall, though I can’t credit how you’ve done it. And that blue is so refreshingly youthful. I was petrified you would put me in black, and I would look as though I should be embalmed. Oh, I cannot wait to show this dress to Billy. He has the best comprehension of women’s fashion of any man I’ve ever met. He’ll be just as excited as I am. I’ll tell you something about your uncle, Vivian. Billy Buell is that rare man who claims to love women and actually does.”
“Celia says he’s a playboy,” I said.
“But of course he’s a playboy, darling. What handsome man worth his salt is not? Though Billy is a special sort. There are a million playboys out there, you must understand, but they don’t typically enjoy a woman’s company past the obvious gratifications. A man who gets to conquer all the women he wants, but who does not prize any of them? Now, that is a man to be avoided. But Billy genuinely likes women, whether he’s vanquishing them or not. We’ve always had a wonderful time together, he and I. He’d be just as happy talking with me about fashion as trying to seduce me. And he writes the most delicious dialogue for women, which most men cannot. Most male playwrights can’t create a woman for the stage who does anything more than seduce or weep or be loyal to their husbands, and that’s awfully dull.”
“Olive thinks he’s not trustworthy.”
“She’s wrong about that. You can trust Billy. You can absolutely trust him to be himself. Olive just doesn’t like what he is.”
“And what is he?”
Edna paused and thought about it. “He’s free,” she decided. “You won’t meet many people in life who are, Vivian. He’s a person who does quite as he pleases, and I find that refreshing. Olive is a more regimented soul by nature—and thank goodness for it, or nothing around here would function—and thus she’s suspicious of anyone who is free. But I