Further Tales of the City Read Online Free PDF Page B

alike, don’t they? Now … where was I?”
    “He used to work at Madame Tufo’s.”
    “Uh … right. He worked … there, and he’s terribly aristocratic and all, and he thinks that it’s just a damn shame there’s never been a wax museum for society figures. Think about that, Prudy Sue! We have wax museums for historical people and show business people and sports people, but nary a thing for the movers and shakers of society. It’s shocking really, when you stop and think about it.”
    “That’s a good point,” said Prue. “I never really …”
    “And if
we
don’t take the initiative on this, who will? I mean, that’s what this little man said to me, and I was absolutely
floored
by his insight. Our children can see for themselves how short Napoleon really was, for instance, but where can they go to look at a replica of, say, Nan Kempner. Or Sao Schlumberger. Or Marie Hélène de Rothschild. These people are
legends,
Prudy Sue, but they’ll be lost to posterity forever, if we don’t take decisive action now. At least, that’s what Wolfgang says, and I think he’s dead right.”
    “Wolfgang?”
    “The little man. He’s such a dear, really. The wax figuresusually run about fifteen thousand apiece, but he’s offered to do them for ten as a sort of a public service. He wants me to scout locations for the museum, which is a damn good thing, since he was leaning towards Santa Barbara when I talked to him, but I think I convinced him to move it here. That way, see, we can have a San Francisco wing as well as an international wing.”
    “I see.”
    “I thought you might, darling.” Victoria giggled conspiratorially. “God, isn’t it fabulous? We’ll get to donate our old gowns and everything. Plus Wolfgang can make marvelous paste imitations of your emeralds, and … well, I’m just positive we can raise the money in no time.”
    “Have you talked to Denise yet?”
    Victoria chuckled. “I’m way ahead of you, Prudy Sue. I think she’s good for fifty thousand,
if
we put her in the international wing. Ditto Ann Getty. That one may be a little tougher to pull off unless we stack the board of directors, but what-the-hell, we’ll stack the board of directors.”
    Prue finally managed a laugh. “You haven’t told Shugie Sussman, have you?”
    “God no! We hadn’t planned on a Chamber of Horrors, darling! On second thought, let’s do—have you seen Kitty Cipriani’s latest facelift?”
    Prue laughed even louder this time. Then she said: “Oh Vicky, thank you! I’ve needed to laugh more than anything. I’ve been so depressed over Vuitton.”
    “Over …? Oh, your dog.”
    “It’s been almost two weeks now. The Park & Rec people haven’t seen him anywhere. I don’t know what to do except …” Prue’s voice trailed off as the melancholy swept over her again.
    “Except what, Prudy Sue.”
    “Well … I thought I might go back to the park and … wait for him.”
    “That’s an awfully long shot, isn’t it. I mean,
two weeks,
Prudy Sue. It’s not very likely that he’s still …”
    “I
know
he’s there, Vicky. I can feel it in my bones. I know he’ll come back to me, if I give him the chance.”
    Even as she spoke, Prue knew how she sounded. Shesounded like poor old Frannie Halcyon, still believing against preposterous odds that her long-lost daughter would return from the jungles of Guyana.
    But stranger things had happened.

No Big Deal
    O N HIS WAY HOME FROM PERRY’S, BRIAN STOPPED AT a garage sale on Union Street and bought an antique Peter, Paul & Mary album for a quarter.
    Also available: two Shelley Berman albums, an early Limelighters album featuring Glenn Yarborough, and the soundtracks of
Breakfast at Tiffany’s, Mondo Cane,
and
To Kill a Mockingbird.
    Somebody’s youth, in other words.
    There was nothing like a stack of dog-eared record albums to remind you that the past was just so much dead weight, excess baggage to be cast overboard when the sailing got tougher. Or