The Property of a Lady - Elizabeth Adler [214]
On December 7, 1941, when the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor, precipitating America into the war, Dick Nevern was one of the first to enlist. “They say I’m too old at forty-one,” he said proudly, “but I talked ’em out of it.”
“Then you’d better talk them out of the desk job they’ll give you too.” Jakey laughed. But he didn’t follow Dick’s example even though he was only thirty-three. Instead he got exemption on the grounds that he had important work making propaganda movies about the war effort. And he asked Azaylee to marry him again.
It was as if someone had turned on the klieg lights and suddenly she became Ava Adair. She grew beautiful again before their eyes, she talked, she laughed, she sparkled. She acted like a woman in love—or rather, Ava Adair in love. Missie and Zev stared worriedly at each other as she said one more time, “Oh, please, please, Missie, say yes….” She was a grown woman. How could they say no, even though they were worried?
The wedding was the grand affair she had always wanted. The bride was breathtaking in a silvery sheath of heavy white satin. There was a big marquee on the lawn and the guests, many of them in uniform, drank vintage champagne from Zev’s private stock and devoured lobster and caviar as if there were no tomorrow. When the bride and groom left for their honeymoon, Zev thought what a contrast they made, Jakey so swarthy, almost as wide as he was tall, his ugly face fixed in a grin; his bride so slender and frail and so blond and beautiful.
“Don’t worry. You are not losing me,” Azaylee whispered as she hugged Missie and Zev good-bye. “Soon I’ll have a baby and you can become doting grandparents.”
They stared at each other helplessly as they waved good-bye to the happy pair, knowing it was impossible. “Let’s just allow her her dreams,” Zev said, “as long as it makes her happy.”
As soon as they returned from the honeymoon, Jakey announced his plans to star his wife in a new movie, Sweetheart of the Forces, an all-singing, all-dancing, big-band blockbuster featuring battleships, aircraft carriers, and airplane wings as backgrounds for dance routines. The movie was a success and Azaylee plunged right into the next one, working long days at the studio and rushing to help at the Hollywood Canteen at night as well as making time to sell War Bonds and help scrap metal drives. And as Jakey went from success to success, Zev gave him more and more freedom.
Dick had beaten the age ban and had been sent to Britain as a special movie correspondent. He expected to be sent to join Montgomery’s forces in the desert at Alamein and was whiling away his time impatiently in London awaiting news of a plane on which he could hitch a ride. He was at a bar with some other American news correspondents when it received a direct hit; they were all killed instantly.
Azaylee forgot about everything, including her own problems, in her attempts to console her friend Rachel, a widow at thirty-two with three young boys aged between ten and five. Then Sam Brockman died suddenly of a heart attack, and Zev insisted that Rosa and Rachel and the children all come and live with them for as long as they wanted.
“It will fill up this big house,” he said with a smile, but inside he was devastated by Dick’s death. Dick was his friend and ally, and he had planned that Dick should be heir to the studio he had helped make such a phenomenal success. Without him Magic seemed to lose its point, and Zev realized that he had fallen out of love with the movie business just as quickly as he had fallen in love with it. He was fifty years old and he was tired of movies, tired of wars and troubles. All