Her Thirties Part 70
We were at Cam’s Thirties party waiting while the swing band was getting tuned up.
Cam dropped by to introduce us to Delia Fontaine, the Band’s vocalist. She was a huge, black woman with a pleasant smile—a cross between Queen Latifah and Ella Fitzgerald.
She was poured into a white gown that looked ready to burst at the seams—which, ironically, it did—the moment she bent over to sign an autograph for Ella.
“Lordie me!—that Agnes Benblow—I could shoot her. I told her to leave a little room for me to breathe. I’m going back to my old seamstress.”
Cam looked horrified. “Surely you have another gown you can wear, Ms. Fontaine.”
“Ah certainly do,” she said indignantly, “but I’ll havta send James, my driver, back to The Royal York to fetch it.”
He blanched. “That’s all the way downtown—it’ll take at least an hour in this rain—maybe more.”
“Well, sorry dearie—but Delia Fontaine ain’t goin’ on no stage with a wardrobe malfunction—I don’ work that way.”
She stormed out in the direction of her dressing room.
Cam began to hyperventilate. “Now what am I going to do? The band was already delayed because of a backup on the highway.”
I tried to make a suggestion. “Why don’t you just have them play some instrumental numbers until the gown arrives?”
“You don’t get it, Scott—the act is planned around Delia—they only have two instrumental songs—the rest are vocal arrangements.”
“Maybe I can help,” Marilyn interjected.
Cam’s eyes lit up. “Do you sing?”
“A little. If I could talk with the band leader, we might be able to work something out.”
Cam grabbed her hand before I could say anything. “C’mon—I’ll introduce you to Ray Leonard.”
I watched helplessly as they threaded their way through the guests and up on the stage to talk with the orchestra leader.
I sat down heavily in my chair and Abe sat down dazed beside me.
“Wow! I had no idea Marilyn could sing professionally,” he said in awe.
“She can’t,” Ella said flatly. “She thinks she’s my dead niece—now, that girl could sing—and if she had lived, she’d have been famous.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. “Wait a minute—you never told me this before.”
“Don’t you remember—that day at the apartment? She told you she adopted Marilyn’s identity because she couldn't remember her own.”
“Yeah,” I protested, “ but I thought she just adopted Marilyn’s name—you’re saying she adopted her identity too?”
The older woman nodded. “She was fascinated by her—saw her picture in my cedar chest and saw instantly they looked like twins.”
I was frustrated. “But how could she possibly know any details about Marilyn?”
“I told her,” she said simply. “She kept asking, so I kept answering. I loved my niece, Scott—I love talking about her—reminiscing. I guess that’s how I keep her memory alive.”
I was beside myself with frustration. “But why didn’t you tell me this that day in the apartment?”
“I was embarrassed, I suppose. It kind of got out of hand. At the start, I had no idea she’d adopt my niece’s life as her own—I just thought she was curious. Then, she adopted me as her Gran—and I guess I was desperate to have a piece of Marilyn back.”
I stood up. “I have to stop her—she’ll make a fool of herself.”
Abe grabbed my arm and pulled me back down. “Too late now, Pal—the orchestra’s about to play.”
That is quite a twist for Scott, with all he's imagining. Now if she can sing... we will see. Thanks
Yes, is the mystique gone or just beginning?
This is also a good part.It is informative and educative valuable.I appreciate that.keep it up
Thank you
Love it! Thank you
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I hope to hear Marilyn sing.
If I understand well, Marilyn actually adopted someone identity because she didn't know who she is.
I don't doubt her singing, cos she sang in the episode Scott helped her with cleaning.