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By Root 887 0

time I’d felt any real pang of jealousy—and along with it, insecurity, of course—over Cary. It was spring 1964, and we’d launched into the third year of our courtship lighthearted and in love, and taking advantage of Cary’s downtime to travel and have fun. We’d go to England for Wimbledon and soccer and to New York for shows and shopping, which, since he was friendly with many top designers, was quite an experience. Cary loved to gamble for fun but was never serious about it, so on Saturdays we’d go to the Santa Anita racetrack and place our $2 bets, and to Las Vegas for shows and low-stakes blackjack. We’d go to Dodgers games, sit in the box seats, and gorge ourselves on kosher hot dogs. At my insistence, we’d take long walks around town and on the beach, something he really came to enjoy; it turned out that since the last person anyone expected to see just walking around was Cary Grant, he was rarely recognized. And of course, Cary loved to eat as much as anyone I ever knew, so we went to a lot of restaurants.

We were more comfortable with each other than ever, and although we enjoyed going places and doing things together, we enjoyed each other’s company so much that we could have been happy stranded on a desert island, even if it meant just playing word games into perpetuity, which we loved to do. We didn’t need anyone or anything; each other’s presence was enough.

Maybe that was my problem at the moment. I’d gotten attached and I didn’t want to see him kissing another woman, let alone a beautiful woman, and it didn’t make a sliver of difference to me if it was all for the camera.

“You look very nice tonight,” he said.

“Don’t change the subject.”

“Okay . . . what is the subject?”

“That kiss.”

“What kiss?”

“The one that curled my toenails.”

“I hope there’s been more than just one of those.”

“Snap out of it. I’m talking about the kiss you gave Leslie in the water. This very afternoon!”

“Silly child, that’s what they pay me for! Come here. I want to show you something.”

With my arms folded, I took a cautious step forward. Cary curled his arm around my waist, took my face in his hand, tilted my head to the side ever so slightly.

“Now, this one,” he said, “is on my own dime.”

Suffice it to say that Cary’s kissing power had not been used up by the movie. Literally feeling dizzy, I took a step back and said, “How do I know you’re not acting?”

Cary laughed. “You know I’m not acting.”

If he was, it was an Oscar-worthy performance.

We spent several more days swimming, dining, and taking long walks on the beach. Before I knew it, two weeks had gone by and it was time to go. Cary had an early call the morning I was leaving and we kissed each other good-bye after breakfast. Bob Arthur, who had also produced That Touch of Mink with Cary, was waiting to take me to the airport.

“Dyan, Cary has just been glowing the whole time you’ve been here,” Bob said as we drove the narrow highway beside the water.

“But Cary is always glowing,” I said.

“Not like that. Why don’t you stay awhile longer?”

“Nobody asked me.”

“The fact is, Dyan, I was deputized to use my power of persuasion on you by Mr. Grant himself.”

“Really? Why didn’t he just ask me himself?”

“I don’t know. But why don’t you stay and ask him that yourself. ”

“Bob, I really need to get home. There’s so much I have to get done.” Then a half a breath later, I said, “Okay, I’m persuaded.” I was overjoyed that Cary wanted me to stay longer. But how odd, I thought, that he didn’t just simply ask me himself. Was it possible that he didn’t know how much I really cared for him?

A couple of days later, Cary had the afternoon off and we went to the beach. “You know, I haven’t had my monthly exercise in a couple of months,” he said. “I think I’ll take a swim.”

“Good idea,” I said. “You’ve gained at least a half ounce. I can see it in your face.” He waded into the water and splashed around.

A few minutes later, Cary screamed like he was on a torture rack. I started to run into the water after him but he yelled, “Don’t get in! Don’t get in!” He paddled to shallow water