A divorce meant I was without a car. Mine had never been replaced. One day indelible
in my memory, the girls required a prescription and the only way to get to the pharmacy
was to haul them with me in their Radio Flyer red wagon.
I placed a bed pillow between them, propped them up back-to-back against it in the
wagon bed, and pulled them slowly to the Rexall drugstore on Pico Boulevard while
thinking wistfully of the gorgeous Lancia Aurelia I had driven while living in Rome.
Those days were gone, but I wouldn’t exchange my darlings for a dozen Aurelia’s.
At the time, I was grateful to have the wagon, but on the way home, I determined to
change our future lifestyle. It was too risky to think about returning to my art career, or
lack of one. Any job I took had to bring in more money than I had to spend on salary for
The very next week, I read about a job possibility in the ‘employment wanted’ section
of the newspaper. Marcia Lehr, who had become well-known in Hollywood circles as the
premier wedding and party planner/designer, was looking for someone to help her with
the hand-addressing of hundreds of invitation envelopes. The location of her shop
immediately caught my attention. It was on Robertson Boulevard within biking distance
from my house.
I felt the first rush of adrenaline since giving birth to the twins and picked up the
phone. “Mother, another potential miracle just dropped into my lap. I saw a job
description in the want-ads of today’s paper and know it was written specifically for me.
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