Read Online Dreams Are Not Enough by Jacqueline Briskin - Free Book Online Page A

worse.” The gray eyes were somber.
    “Grandpa was drowned—or boiled maybe—in tons of molten metal. This was a couple of weeks before Aunt Lily was born. It goes without saying there were no widows’ pensions or free rent. They moved to Pittsburgh. Dad—he was ten at the time—ran errands at a cheap whorehouse. His tips supported the family. And, by the time he was sixteen, he’d saved enough for fares to Los Angeles. Here, he lugged heavy props at Magnum, which Art Garrison had just started. Within a year he was producing two-reelers and had gone into hock for a big house for the family in the Wilshire District. He has a reputation for being cutthroat in business, Dad, but he’s a terrific family man. Anyway, you can see the Cordiners aren’t exactly quality folk.”
    Alicia nodded. The reassurance of Hap’s person, rather than his story, had calmed her. The horrors of another generation were historical events, and the Cordiners were quality now, rich and important.
    “Thank you, Hap,” she said.
    “For what? Telling you about your new family?”
    He reached out as if to touch her bare shoulder reassuringly. She knew from the heat in her cheeks that she was flushing. His hand dropped to his side, and his voice was again huskily deep as he said, “Don’t worry about the suit, it’s great on you.”
    “It’s not like there was any choice,” Alicia said.
    “This is the only one that halfway fit me.”
    It was just after one. The others were inside changing to go out for lunch.
    “Halfway is the crucial word,” Barry said tightly.
    “Oh, Barry, don’t ruin the day.”
    “Thank God Beth’s finding you a shift to wear over it. Otherwise they’d never let you in the Crab Cooker,” he said. Then, realizing that his embarrassment over the explicit lushness of his wife’s body had led him into gratuitous unkindness, he added in a conciliatory tone, “What were you and Hap doing down there anyway?”
    “Talking.”
    “About what?”
    She realized that Barry wasn’t questioning her out of jealousy but curiosity. She also understood that although her husband resented his role of poor relation, his pride was intricately tethered to being part of the shining Cordiner galaxy. He would not care for Hap’s dimming the family glow.
    “Oh, just stuff,” she said lightly.
    “Nothing special.”
    Alicia had been anticipating a formal, stiff restaurant like the one in Las Vegas, but eating at the Crab Cooker was as casual as a picnic.
    The chowder came in Styrofoam bowls, and seafood main courses were served on paper plates. Amid the smells of barbecuing fish, the rush of tanned young waitresses, the laughter of casually clad people, Alicia, wearing the flowered shift Beth had found in a guest closet, traded quips with Our Own Gang. Afterward, the six of them crowded back into PD’s open Chrysler convertible, the salty breeze blowing away their loud rendition of “Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Polka Dot Bikini” as they drove back to the house.
    A large black Rolls-Royce was parked imperially to block the Zaffaranos’ three-car garage.
    “Jesus, that’s Dad’s car,” Hap said.
    “What’s Uncle Desmond doing here?” Barry asked. He was blinking rapidly, as if a bug had caught in his eye.
    “Who knows?” PD said.
    “Maybe he got his weekends mixed up.”
    “Dad?”
    Maxim said.
    “PD, you weasel, try again. Why is he here?”
    “Okay,” PD said agreeably.
    “He asked me to get Barry and Alicia down so he could settle this crap between Barry and his folks.”
    “You’re a shit, PD,” Barry said, his voice clenched yet frightened.
    “And my marriage and my parents’ reactions to it are nobody’s concern but my own.”
    “Evidently, pais an Uncle Desmond doesn’t agree,” PD replied equably.
    The casual ease with which Desmond Cordiner lounged against the dock rail would convince a stranger that he was the proprietor of the big Chris-Craft and Cape Cod beach house. In his slip-on loafers