“Ah, that feels wonderful,” he murmured. “How did I ever get along without you?”
“I can’t imagine.” She nestled close to him. “Toby, tell me about the Cannes Film Festival. What’s it like? I’ve never been to one.”
“It’s just a mob of hustlers who come from all over the world to sell their lousy movies to one another. It’s the biggest con game in the world.”
“You make it sound exciting,” Jill said.
“Yeah? Well, I guess it is kind of exciting. The place is filled with characters.” He studied her for a moment. “Do you really want to go to that stupid film festival?”
She shook her head quickly. “No. We’ll go to Palm Springs.”
“Hell, we can go to Palm Springs anytime.”
“Really, Toby, it’s not important.”
He smiled. “Do you know why I’m so crazy about you? Any other woman in the world would have been pestering me to take her to the festival. You’re dying to go, but do you say anything? No. You want to go to the Springs with me. Have you canceled that acceptance?”
“Not yet, but—”
“Don’t. We’re going to India.” A puzzled look came over his face. “Did I say India? I meant—Cannes.”
When their plane landed at Orly, Toby was handed a cablegram. His father had died in the nursing home. It was too late for Toby to go back for the funeral. He arranged to have a new wing added to the rest home, named after his parents.
The whole world was at Cannes.
It was Hollywood and London and Rome, all mixed together in a glorious, many-tongued cacophony of sound and fury, in Technicolor and Panavision. From all over the globe, picture makers flocked to the French Riviera, carrying cans of dreams under their arms, rolls of celluloid made in English and French and Japanese and Hungarian and Polish, that were going to make them rich and famous overnight. The croisette was packed with professionals and amateurs, veterans and tyros, comers and has-beens, all competing for the prestigious prizes. Being awarded a prize at the Cannes Film Festival meant money in the bank, if the winner had no distribution deal, he could get one, and if he already had one, he could better it.
Every hotel in Cannes was filled, and the overflow had spilled up and down the coast to Antibes, Beaulieu, Saint-Tropez and Menton. The residents of the small villages gaped in awe at the famous faces that filled their streets and restaurants and bars.
Every room had been reserved for months ahead, but Toby Temple had no difficulty getting a large suite at the Carlton. Toby and Jill were feted everywhere they went. News photographers’ cameras clicked incessantly, and their images were sent around the world. The Golden Couple, the King and Queen of Hollywood. The reporters interviewed Jill and asked for her opinions on everything from French wines to African politics. It was a far cry from Josephine Czinski of Odessa, Texas.
Toby’s picture did not win the award, but two nights before the festival was to end, the Judges Committee announced that they were presenting a special award to Toby Temple for his contribution to the field of entertainment.
It was a black-tie affair, and the large banquet hall at the Carlton Hotel overflowed with guests. Jill was seated on the dais next to Toby. She noticed that he was not eating. “What’s the matter, darling?” she asked.
Toby shook his head. “Probably had too much sun today. I feel a little woozy.”
“Tomorrow I’m going to see that you rest.” Jill had scheduled interviews for Toby with Paris Match and the London Times in the morning, luncheon with a group of television reporters, followed by a cocktail party. She decided she would cancel the least important.
At the conclusion of dinner, the mayor of Cannes rose to his feet and introduced Toby. “Mesdames, messieurs, et invités distingués c’est un grand privilège de vous présente un homme dont l’oeuvre a donné plaisir et bonheur au monde entier. J’ai l’honneur de lui présenter cette medaille spéciale, un signe de notre affection et de notre appréciation.” He held up a gold medal and ribbon and bowed to Toby. “Monsieur Toby Temple!” There was an enthusiastic burst of applause from the audience, as everyone in the great banquet hall rose to his feet in a standing ovation. Toby was seated in his chair, not moving.