Some of this takes place in front of the Patman home, see profile for visual.
Marie Patman peered at the young woman, clad in her white lace and satin dress, dancing in the arms of her son. She was certainly pretty enough. She wasn't too tall, perhaps five foot four. She had a full head of dark red hair, light brown eyes, and skin that looked like it tanned easily, despite her hair color. Also, aside from her sometimes broken English, she seemed well bred and educated.
She came from a family of wine producers, who managed to amass a fortune, one big enough to instill interest in the Patmans, and assure them that she wasn't just another gold digger trying to sink her hooks into their son. By all measures, she seemed a good match for Bruce. Except….. Marie didn't quite like the fact that her son was now a Catholic.
Although they seldom went to church, the Patmans had always been thoroughly protestant. She had always wanted Bruce to fall in love with and marry someone close to home. But her son never seemed to have luck with any of the available California girls. The one girl that Marie would have loved to have for a daughter in law, was sadly dead. Marie smoothed her overly dyed dark hair as she contemplated on the situation…..
A girl like Regina Morrow would have been perfect as a wife for Bruce. She had beauty, a family fortune that surpassed the Patmans', and her old money New England parents, her mother especially, had just the right pedigree to make quite an impression on Marie and her circle of friends. Of course there was the little inconvenience that the poor, sweet girl had been born deaf. Marie had been willing to overlook that, especially since doctors in Switzerland had been able to fix her till she was as good as new. The Morrows had been much less than friendly with their next door neighbors ever since their daughter tragically died.
Marie watched as Lila Fowler tossed her dark hair over her shoulder, and laughed at whatever it was that Roger just said.
Hmmm,! she thought, as a server supplied her with another glass of champagne. At least he didn't end up marrying that!
She had never thought much of Lila, and, her opinion of her had lessened even further with the news that her real father was a greasy, sleazy, common criminal.
My grandchildren won't have any no name….. good for nothing convict blood!
Marie stifled a yawn, withholding evidence that she was still tired from her journey. As much as she loved traveling, she just wanted to get this whole trip over with. It had been somewhat disappointing to her that the wedding wasn't held in Sweet Valley, where she could have invited all her friends to celebrate her son's happiness. But….. Marie understood very well that weddings were all about the bride. There was no way Babette's strict, overly religious father would have allowed her to get married so far from home.
The eleven hour flight to Paris was bad enough. And then…from Paris, they had gotten on another plane and flew south towards Montpellier Méditerranée airport. She had been most annoyed after their private plane had broken down, and they were forced to fly with a regular airline. She had to put up with Lila whispering sweet nothings in Roger's ear, while her nephew blushed like a school boy.
Marie couldn't understand what Roger saw in that girl. She had come to…..sort of like…..her nephew, she almost saw him as her younger son. He had returned from Princeton, no longer the ill at ease boy who seemed to cower whenever she spoke to him, but unfortunately, had fallen straight into the web of that Fowler girl, or whatever her real last name should rightfully be.
On several nights, she and Roger were left alone in the house, while Hank was away in his office, at the club with his own circle of friends, or away on a business trip, somewhere not in Sweet Valley. Or so she thought….. Roger wasn't the type of young man who liked to party all and every night, and he had become somewhat of a solace to her on those lonely nights.
Her days were filled with social obligations, but sometimes at night, when they weren't out together, or hosting their friends in their mansion, Hank was nowhere to be found. Who would have ever thought that the scruffy, low class, wrong side of the valley boy who moved in with them almost eight years ago would have become a valued companion?
It was times like these that Marie wished she had more children, perhaps a girl. Girls always stayed close to home, well…. that's what they did in her day anyway….
Her husband had been acting suspiciously for months, until the day…the day she found out the truth….. There were a series of hangup calls whenever she picked up the phone, and from her husband, plenty of hushed whispers that turned into financial jargon and questions about the operations of their factory near Chicago as soon as she walked into the room. He was distracted, and distant.
So she had him followed. She hired a private investigator who had tracked Hank visiting a fair haired woman on the seedy side of town, who looked to be about thirty. He had even been seen with this woman at the Sweet Suites, which, when it came to hotel reputations, was the mother of all depravity. Her hired investigator had even managed to get a couple of snapshots of the woman. There wasn't much to tell, except that she was a factory worker at the Patman's local facility. She had recently left the job after having a baby.
It was a Friday afternoon when she had gone to his office and found herself in the position to eavesdrop on his conversation. Why did she go there? She couldn't even remember it now. She seldom visited him at his place of work, she pretty much ran their household, while Hank grew their fortune right here in this building, and she knew he didn't like to be disturbed.
His secretary Mona was not at her desk, so Marie went straight into the hallway leading to his office. The door was slightly ajar and as she was about to swing it open, she heard those mind blowing words coming from his mouth. Hank was sitting on his desk, facing the window, unaware that his wife was right behind him, listening in…
Look, this is hard for me… This was a mistake from the start… You think I want to raise a child, at my age?…. My wife cannot find out about this…. You need to stop calling the house…. Why don't you move?…..Leave Sweet Valley… Go somewhere else…. What about New York?…. I can set you up, buy you an apartment, send you money, but please leave my family out of it… Of course I had to get a test to prove he's mine…. You think I'd just pay for everything just like that?…No, you can't go to the press….When he's older, maybe I can meet him. This will devastate my wife, my son, tear us apart…..Let me tell them first…Let me explain!…..
Marie had heard enough. She rushed back outside, and saw her driver Jeeves getting out of the car to open the door for her.
Take me home Jeeves, Marie demanded shakily, her face white, her eyes glassy. So it was true! Hank really was cheating. And worse yet, he had a son! She pressed the button on the armrest and opened the window. Marie felt like she was choking. She inhaled the fresh air, trying in vain to calm herself. How could Hank do this to her?
Within twenty minutes, they were on Valley Crest Drive, and in front of the Georgian mansion that had been her home for almost thirty years. She had always been so proud of her home. The clay hued bricks were illuminated by the afternoon sun, giving the impression of a distinguished, lighter tone. Her home was timeless, elegant, one of the nicest on the hill where they lived. She looked to her left at the tennis courts, and immediately thought of Bruce.
Thank God he's not here, she thought as Jeeves opened the door for her.
Will you be needing me again today Mrs Patman?
No Jeeves, Marie replied. You may go home. If I need you tomorrow, I'll call. She watched as her trusted driver parked the black brougham, got into his own vehicle and drove off beyond the gates. With her head pounding and her body trembling, she entered the house through a side entrance, slammed the door shut, went straight to the liquor cabinet off the kitchen, and poured herself a drink of brandy. One of the new maids…Sarah?... Or was it Anna?... gave her a nervous smile from the front of the dishwasher.
Good afternoon Mrs Patman, the girl nodded politely. Marie ignored her as she left the small space and moved up to her bedroom suite. It was Friday, and except for their housekeeper Maria, she didn't think any other staff would be there. The other servants usually went home early on weekends. She removed her spiked shoes, sat in an arm chair next to the bed and wiped the tears that started falling from her light blue eyes.
Marie wasn't sure how long she sat there, but she knew her overwrought nerves were still firing at her brain. She got up and poured herself another drink. And another. And in ten minutes, another again. There was only one thing to do. She couldn't live with Hank. They would have to divorce. It would be a scandal, there would be some piteous looks and frowns of disapproval from some of their friends. But there was no other way. And she was still a Vanderhorn. That definitely counted for something in their small town.
She slammed her glass down and made her way to Hank's dressing room. It was all in here…his clothes, his size eleven Italian shoes, silk ties, diamond cufflinks, expensive colognes that she had bought him throughout the years….. Well….. she didn't want to see any of it! It was all filth, the scum of the earth! Just like her dear husband.
With a hot streak of impulsiveness racing through her, Marie opened the window next to the bed and started tossing Hank's clothes out of the window and on to the balcony below. Mocha silk shirts that matched his eyes, the paisley Hermes scarf he wore that Christmas in Tahoe, the highest quality sateen shirts that she bought him on Rodeo Drive, the brand new loafers from Lytton and Brown, the white shorts he wore when he was out on the court with Bruce, it all had to go! She looked at her bed, the same bed that she had laid in with him. Tears came again to her eyes and she ripped the sheets from the mattress and tossed them out as well….
Maria picked up her duster and ran it along the antique marble mantle. No Anna, you do it like this, she said to the new maid, who was polishing a silver candelabrum. Just squeeze a small bit on the cloth, and rub in a circular motion.
After five minutes, the metal piece sparkled like it was new, and Anna placed it back on the mantle, hoping that Maria would be satisfied with her work. She picked up a picture of a young man, a half smile on his handsome face as he posed saucily in front of a black porsche.
Who is this? Anna asked, turning the frame around so Maria, who was now dusting the backs of the chairs could see.
That is Mr Bruce, their son.
Oh? Anna grinned. He's pretty good looking. And so is Mr Roger, she bubbled flirtatiously.
If you want to keep your job in this house, you'll learn your place, which is not making personal remarks about the members of this family, Maria scolded.
Anna turned and rolled her eyes at the mirror. She put the small frame back in it's place. Do you smell smoke Maria? Anna asked, her eyebrow wrinkling as she placed the bottle of liquid polish on the table. Maria shrugged as she walked over to Anna who was now ready to fold the dinner napkins.
Maybe there's a barbecue in the neighborhood? The smoke blows far.
Is it just three for dinner tonight,? Anna queried, lazily stretching her arms above her head.
Maria gave her a look of disapproval at her gesture. Imagine if Mr Hank was to walk in, seeing one of his maids, holding out her arms like that, looking like she wanted to fall asleep while on the job!
Mr Roger told me he wouldn't be home, Maria replied. I don't know where he is. Maybe he'll be going out with his girlfriend. So it's just Mr Hank and Mrs Patman tonight. How about you go up to the third floor and clean the bathrooms? Then you can go for the day.
Anna nodded obediently, and she left the room and went up the stairs. Cleaning sinks, tubs and toilets was not her thing. But…working in a house like this one, was a pretty good opportunity. The Patman name was pretty big in Sweet Valley. She wanted to keep this job, and she realized that Maria was the one who she had to capture the approval of with her cleaning skills.
Maria continued her work, and the smell that Anna mentioned suddenly got stronger. She sniffed as she moved around the room. She exited the dining room, and went into the front center of the house and into the living room area that faced the valley below. The smell was now assaulting her nostrils. Maria looked around, and her heart started pounding. Surely the mansion wasn't on fire?
It was then she heard the sounds coming from outside.
That son of a bitch! I'll show him what he gets for cheating on me! I hate you! I hate you Henry Patman! When you get here, I'll burn your ass too! When I'm done with this…I'll….I'll torch the Rolls! The one your father left for you!...
That will show him! He's a rotten guttersnipe… just like her! How dare he do this to me! A scandalous string of expletives followed the ranting, and Maria knew that even if she washed her ears and brain out with bleach, she'd never get them out of her memories.
Maria ran to the window in horror. She recognized the voice immediately, but she couldn't bring herself to believe who those debauched words were coming from. Her draw dropped when she spotted the flames, and dropped even further when she saw her mistress, one of the most dignified women she had ever met, pouring a bottle of reddish brown liquid on what looked to be a burning pile of sheets, the hungry blaze sending an acrid smell into the air. Without thinking, she ran out of the door, down the stairs, and pulled Mrs Patman away from the growing flames.
Leave me to it Maria,! an obviously drunk Marie demanded.
Mrs Patman! Let me call 911!
No Maria, I haven't started on the car yet, she pressed, slurring her words. The car is next. He loves that car, her blue eyes glistened evilly.
Go get the video camera so I can film it. I want to capture some everlasting memories just for him. We can watch it over and over in the screening room.
She started laughing hysterically.
Won't that be fun! Oh! She slapped her hand to her forehead. That gives me an idea. Go get all his video tapes, and his records too. I'll blacken them in my inferno! And find my husband so I can add him to the pile. But only after I torch the Rolls!
Her intoxicated eyes closed as she tried to steady herself. She took a swig from the bottle in her hand. We'll call 911 when I'm done…..
Maria looked at the angry orange of the flames. She ran over to the end of the lawn and turned the sprinklers on full force. Jets of water shot out from the ground, wetting her mistress and thankfully, the fire started to die down. A fit of coughing overtook both women as the dwindling, but fast moving smoke burned their nostrils.
Nooooo! Mrs Patman yelled, her hands on her hips as she watched the fire dying.
I still need to take care of his favorite Brooks Brothers jacket. The one he bought near Wall Street. You're fired Maria! Uggghhhh, I don't feel too well….
She clutched her stomach, and went down the pathway, then hunched herself over, till Maria could hear her vomiting under the tree. Maria shook her head. Whatever Mr Hank did had to be pretty bad. Maria had never seen Mrs Patman like this, and she had been working for the couple since they got married. She walked over to Marie and cautiously grabbed her arm to bring her inside.
Her eye makeup was running down her face, which was as white as the sheets in the pile that was now emitting much lighter smoke. As they walked into the house, Maria looked back at the clothes still strewn on the blackened lawn. Come Monday, the family's gardener Jackson would have a lot of work to do…
Several hours later, a very angry Hank Patman stormed into his bedroom to see Marie on the stripped, unmade bed, a small white towel on her forehead. A bottle of liquor, and a pitcher of ice water sat at her bedside table. Her eyes were closed, and she appeared to be sleeping, but the distressed moans coming from her told him she was wide awake. On the bare mattress next to Marie was an open suitcase that contained even more of his clothes.
He had gotten the details from Maria, that his wife had had an…. incident, and that was the reason why several of his possessions had been through a bonfire. He had driven home from his office, entered the scrolled iron gates, gotten out of his car, and walked towards the blackened lawn, to see several of his clothes burned to a crisp. Maria had managed to salvage many pieces from his wardrobe, that, except for being wet, could definitely be worn again.
What the hell were you doing with this little stunt Marie,? Hank began, not quite knowing what to do with the idea that his wife had turned into a pyromaniac.
Marie opened her eyes, removed the towel from her forehead, sat upright in the bed, and casually poured herself some water. She took a sip and put her glass down. I'm helping you Hank. I thought I would pack up your things. You're getting out…..now. Forever. It's over.
Why? Why are you doing this? The look in his eyes told her that he already knew.
Why? Why Hank? She opened her top drawer that was right next to her and pulled out the photos of the woman she knew was Hank's mistress.
Where did you get those?
Don't even try to lie to me. I already know you have a baby with her.
Hank just stared, knowing that any attempt at lying his way out would be futile. After what seemed to be an hour of silence, he put his head in his hand. I'm sorry, tears came to his eyes, his anger forgotten. We can work it out. She means nothing to me, he continued, sobbing. I was going to tell you but…...
Work it out,? Marie screeched, practically jumping off the bed. Hell no! I don't want you here! You're moving out of this house! Fresh tears pooled in her eyes as she picked up one of his custom made shoes and tossed it at his head. I don't care where you go! Why don't you go live with your whore and your bastard? I hear the Sweet Suites have some vacancies!
How did you find out?
Does it matter? The point is, I know. I know all about it, Marie yelled. Your brand new bastard. I'm not going to play stepmommy to your brat!
I've had to forgive you for things too! I'm not the only one with a bastard,! Hank returned, his pulse racing.
I was young, naive and seduced! You my darling husband, are a dirty old man! You knew better. Tell me Hank. What were you thinking when you were in bed with that slut? How old is she? She can't be more than forty.
She's not that young. She's thirty four, Hank answered, his voice strained.
Marie picked up one of the photos and examined it, then threw it at him. . She looks younger than that! And she has that silky blonde hair that you can't get out of your head. Isn't that sweet? And big blue eyes just like Alice Robertson. That's what this really is about isn't it? You make me sick! You still want a woman who dumped you years ago!
All because of you,! Hank retorted.
Marie picked up the bottle and took a long gulp, then flashed her eyes on Hank. She clenched her grip and gave her best throw towards Hank's head, who managed to duck before it hit him. The bottle smashed into the wall behind him, sending shards of glass everywhere. With that, Marie went up to her husband and planted a heavy slap across his cheek. She grabbed hold of his Louis Vuitton suitcase and threw it at him, strewing more clothes all over the floor.
Now get out,! she screamed…..
Excusez-moi madame, a waiter with a tray of Provençal vegetable tarts disrupted Marie's thoughts. She took a portion and glared at Hank who was on the other side of the room. Just thinking of that day made her blood boil. Bruce was in the middle of the dance floor, his bride in his arms. Marie took a deep breath. She had been trying to keep it together, this charade of her and Hank being a happily married couple. They were putting on a show, continuing their act, mostly for their son. In a few weeks he'd be returning to Sweet Valley. They couldn't lie forever. Marie couldn't help but be apprehensive about what soon may come….
