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| An Interview with the Author |
The
Merchant of Venus
An
Excerpt from Chapter Three
By Ellen Hart
"Put Octavia on the line, please."
Cordelia didn't recognize the voice, but the man's lack of formality matched her own. She was irritated that her sister had been in her loft less than five minutes and she was already receiving phone calls. "It's for you," said Cordelia, handing back the phone. She sat down on the couch, draping her jewelry-encrusted arms across the cushions. She had no intention of giving her sister any privacy.
Octavia turned away and walked to the windows overlooking downtown Minneapolis. "Hello?" she said quietly. "Oh, hi." She listened a moment, then said, "Yes... sorry... I, ah... I needed to get away. I was going to tell you, but then I couldn't find you. I got in my car and started driving. Before I realized it I was back in New York. My apartment felt so claustrophobic, I couldn't stay there, so I packed a bag and headed for the airport." She paused. "How….how did you know I was here?"
Cordelia couldn't help herself. She was intrigued.
"I see," said Octavia, resting her forehead against the glass. "Yes, I should have known you'd put it together. What?" She touched a hand to the back of her hair. "I've already contacted him. He'll be coming on Sunday night." She turned and dropped her eyes to Cordelia. "Yes, I thought I'd ask her in person, and no, I don't know what she'll say." Another pause. "I'm fine. Really. It just got kind of crazy around there, especially when Christian arrived. I'm used to that documentary person always being around, but -- " She listened. "No, Roland, you never said anything about houseguests."
It had to be boyfriend trouble, thought Cordelia. She hadn't read anything in the papers about her sister getting married again, though the nuptials could have taken place privately, perhaps in Europe. Octavia was partial to Italy -- and Italian men. Cordelia liked Italy too, though she preferred Italian women.
"I know that," continued Octavia, "but I just felt funny, like they were all watching me. It's not easy, you know. This is all so new." She held a hand to the side of her face. "I don't know, okay? I just... I had to get out of there. But don't worry. Nothing's changed. I'll see you soon. Yes... yes, I promise." After a few more seconds she added, "Me, too. Bye." She clicked off the phone and set it down on an end table, then glanced at her sister. Some of her normal confidence was missing.
"What was that all about?" asked Cordelia, an amused smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.
"You enjoy seeing me squirm, don't you? You always have."
Now Cordelia looked stricken. "That's not true."
"Oh, cut the crap. It's just you and me here."
"You and me and your little secrets. Sounds like you've caught yourself another live one. Who is he? Another producer who's going to make you the next Meryl Streep?"
"Meryl Streep has been box office poison for years. I know that's a ghastly comment on a ghastly industry, but there it is."
Cordelia shrugged. "I believe you said something about asking me a question in person. Well, here I am, big as life, and I'm all atwitter thinking what it might be. Does my sister need money? A character witness for some criminal lawsuit? Or a place to hide? If the latter, I think you better bag that idea. Your cover's been blown."
"God, but you're transparent." She bit the nail on her little finger, glowering. "But this time, you can be as snide as you want, I'm not going to rise to the bait."
"Like the predictable small-mouthed bass I used to know and love."
Sitting down across from her, Octavia hesitated a moment, then continued, "Promise me you'll think about this. You won't say no just as a matter of course."
"I'm not promising anything."
"Okay…be that way." She took a slow, calming breath, then said, "Do you know who Roland Lester is?"
"You mean the famous Hollywood director? Sure, who doesn't?"
"He's asked me to marry him."
Cordelia didn't think her sister had any shock value left in her, but here she was, lighting her usual firecracker. "Isn't the man dead?"
"If he is, he's rather animated about it. He's eighty three."
"And he actually proposed?"
"Right."
"Three words, Octavia. Anna Nicole Smith."
"You think I'm a gold digger? That I'm marrying him for his money?"
Cordelia flung her arms in the air. "Well, duh!"
"Look," said Octavia indignantly, "it's not immoral or illegal."
"Or fattening."
"Exactly."
"So, is this also a passionate love match?"
"Not passion. But love…in a strange way, yes. It is."
"Have you been dating long?"
"A few months."
"And, of course, an extended engagement is out of the question."
Again, Octavia glowered. "If you're going to make a bunch of stupid age jokes, I can leave right now."
"Good. You remember where the door is." Cordelia started to get up.
"Just give me a break, will you? Give me one measly second of your precious time."
"I have. Why should I give you more?"
"Because you're my sister. And I care about you, god knows why. And also…well…I came here to ask you to be part of the wedding. My maid of honor."
If Cordelia had ever consciously given anyone the evil eye, she was doing so now. "You've got to be kidding."
"Dad's coming. He's going to give me away."
It took her a minute to realize her mouth was open. "Not only is that concept archaic, but this would be your fourth marriage. Hardly the time to waltz down the aisle of a big church, maids and maidens in tow. Why don't you just fly to Las Vegas, find yourself a chapel and a vaguely unsavory justice of the peace, and hire some Elvis impersonator to hum the wedding march?" She paused -- but only for a second. "I suppose next you're going to be telling me you're wearing white."
"My stylist suggested off-white. Or... cappuccino."
"Well, there you are!"
Octavia looked hurt. "Can't you be happy for me just this once?"
"Whose idea was it to get married? Yours or Lester's?"
"His."
"You swept him off his feet."
"Not exactly, although he does find me fascinating. He thinks I look like Joan Fontaine."
Cordelia rolled her eyes. "If you're so happy with the man, why did you run away? And why on earth would you want me around knowing the way I feel about you? I'm still so angry I could put my fist through a brick wall. I would think my presence would cast a pall on your happiness."
"But, don't you see? This will give us the chance to mend fences. Work our differences through. You left in such a huff after Mom's funeral, we never had time to talk. And then you wouldn't take my phone calls. You never answered my letters. Come on, Cordelia. Wouldn't you like to meet Roland Lester? He's everything you'd expect -- and more. I thought maybe Jane could come too. We'd all fly back together. I haven't seen her in ages. We could all stay at Innishannon -- that's Roland's mansion on the Connecticut shore. It's really…atmospheric. Kind of run-down, maybe, but still amazing."
Under her breath, Cordelia whispered, "I dreamt I went to Manderlay again last night."
"You and Jane could catch a show in New York while you're there. I already checked your schedule at the Allen Grimby. You're free until after New Year's. Are your holiday plans so set in stone that you couldn't come back with me, meet a man who's dying to meet you, and spend the holidays with your family? I know I could talk Dad into coming for Christmas if you were there. And Jane's always been welcome at any family event. Please, Cordelia, just think about it."
"No," said Cordelia, flatly.
"But -- "
Stiffening her shoulders, she folded her arms over her ample bosom and said, "You heard me. There's not a single thing in this world you can say to make me change my mind."
Copyright © 2001
Ellen Hart.
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