“There it is. I see it,” Madison shouted, bouncing on the seat. “It’s so tall.”
She was right. The Hollywood Roosevelt rose twelve stories above Hollywood Boulevard, its cream-colored stucco bright against the blue California sky. A green awning stretched over the entrance at street level, and palm trees decorated the corners.
How many stories you probably hold, I thought, as I craned my neck to look at the sign.Tell them to me.
“This is where the first Academy Awards were held,” Robbie announced as we tumbled out of the car. “May 16, 1929. The ceremony lasted fifteen minutes. Janet Gaynor won Best Actress. She was only twenty-two.”
“No one cares about that,” Madison said, as only a sister could.
“I care,” Robbie said. “Did you know the Hollywood sign originally said Hollywoodland?”
“Can we go to the pool?” Madison asked, tugging on Grady’s hand. “Mommy said there was a pool.”
“It’s a very famous pool,” Esme said. “But first we need to check in.”
“But I want to swim in the famous pool now,” Madison said.
“Sweet Pea, what did we talk about before we came here?” Grady asked.
“We have to be patient and not demand things because this day isn’t about us,” Madison recited, clearly not feeling patient or generous.
Hunter caught my eye and grinned. I grinned back.
“Madison, we’ll be as quick as we can,” I said. “And then we can all go to the pool.”
“Thanks, Seraphina.” Madison bounced on her sandal-clad toes, quickly recovering her exuberance. She made a zipper gesture over her mouth.
The lobby was cool and dim after the bright afternoon sun. Once my eyes adjusted, I looked around the lobby, immediately charmed by its old world glamor. The ceiling soared two stories high, painted in warm reds and golds with ornate Spanish Colonial friezes running along the edges. Arched doorways lined both sides, supported by cream-colored columns, anda mezzanine balcony with iron railings wrapped around the second floor like in a theatre box.
We crossed the lobby on the same terracotta tiles where generations of movie stars and moguls had tread. Clusters of tufted leather furniture filled the space, including black and burgundy Chesterfield armchairs and sofas arranged around low wooden tables. A small fountain with greenery sat at the center. Through an archway at the far end came the glow of the bar.
I drew a breath through my nose, catching the soft, almost sweet note of polished wood and antique furniture that came from decades of wax and care. There were hints of leather and a whisper of vintage perfume, as if actresses from bygone days still roamed the room waiting for their close-up.
“Do you smell that, kids?” I asked. “That’s the smell of the golden era of film.”
“It smells like money and secrets,” Tyler said.
“And a hundred years of deals made over whiskey,” Grady said.
“Those are good lines for a song,” Hunter said.
“This is the perfect setting for a murder mystery. Or an epic romance,” I said.
The rest of our group was now entering, chattering away, Grace leading the way, a delighted smile on her face. She stopped dead in the middle of the floor, turning in a full circle. “Oh. My. God. I never want to leave.”
“That staircase is sick,” Bella said, coming to stand next to Grace.
At the far end, a staircase curved upward with an iron railing in intricate Spanish Colonial detail. Decorative tiles in earthy tones lined the risers, warm and old and unmistakably Southern California.
“There are rumors that Shirley Temple learned to tap dance on those stairs,” Robbie said.
“For real?” Grace asked. “That’s amazing.”
“It’s right here in chapter eight.” Robbie held up his book, looking pleased that someone had enjoyed one of his facts. “Although, I must emphasize, it’s only folklore. However, she often stayed here as a child star, so it’s plausible. In addition, Marilyn Monroe posed for photos on the diving board. The diving board no longer exists, but the pool does. The bottom of the pool is a mural—painted by David Hockney in 1988. I cannot wait to see it.”
“Can we do cannonballs?” Madison asked.
“We’ll see,” Esme said. “There are a lot of adults here, and we don’t want to bother them.”
