Mildred Pierce (2011): Season 1, Episode 3 - Part Three - full transcript

People should be
dropping in anytime now.

We still have to...

pick out her clothes.

Veda's at the Pierces'?

They offered to take her.

Pop insisted he stand
all the expenses, too.

Can I get you anything, Bert? A drink?

Not right now, Lucy.

- Well, it's right there, and I'm right here.
- Thanks.

Oh.

All right, baby. Mama's listening.



I have no black dress.

I'll get you one. Size twelve?

- Ten.
- A veil?

- You think I should?
- I wouldn't.

You stay. I've got it, Bert.

She's in heaven, Mildred.

Delivery for Mr. And Mrs. Pierce.

- Thanks.

She's gotta be in heaven.

She was the sweetest, most...

... perfect kid.

If ever a kid deserved
to be in heaven...

it's Ray.

Of course she is.



Veda.

Veda, darling.

Mother, where were you?

I told you, I was...

visiting friends in Santa Barbara.

Had I known,
I never would have gone.

- Never.
- Lucy.

I can't tell you how sorry I am.

Thank you.

We should go in.

They're in the bedroom. Ray's.

Yeah.

Mrs. Abernathy.

Mother Abernathy,
so good of you to come.

Bert Pierce. Thank you.

- Hello, dear.
- Hello, Grandmother.

Hello, Mother.

Mildred, my dear.

Thank you so much
for bringing her.

Mildred.

O God, accept our prayers
on behalf of the soul of Moire,

through Jesus Christ our Lord, amen.

Amen.

It's six more than I ordered.
Sorry, ma'am.

And these two
aren't even plucked properly.

Nice-looking, though.

All right, I'll take those.

Two parsley.

A bag of onions.

We have lettuce.
We have cabbage.

28, 29, 30.

That's 30 in bills

and 10 in change.

Thank you.

Hello?

Uh, they fit all right, no?

It looks wonderful.
Everything does.

There's something else
you're gonna like, too.

Wally, what are you doing here?

Well, give me a minute,
and I might just show you. Arline?

Isn't it a little early
to be stocking the pie case?

Quiet down, I'm trying
to show you something.

Now keep in mind this whole operation
only cost me two bucks and 11 cents.

You ready?

I'm ready.

Ta-da!

- Oh!
- Huh? What do you think?

It's beautiful!

- When did you ever find the time to...
- Well, last week, when you were...

Anyway, slipped in at nights, worked on it.
It ought to sell pies, though.

- And get a free dinner.
- Oh, never mind that.

A free dinner
and second helpings.

Pancho,
if you'll unload the car with Letty,

Arline and I can get started in the kitchen.

Wally...

- thank you.
- Oh, go get cooking.

The way half-chickens
are served in most places,

in one loathsome piece,

I just hate.

How are people supposed
to eat it that way?

Well, we're going
to serve it in pieces.

Breast, wing, second joints and drumstick.

All arranged in the icebox,

so we can pick up a single portion
with one motion.

Truth is, I'm not expecting many people
since it's my first night

and I haven't had a chance yet
to build up my trade.

But if you should be rushed,
get their orders.

I've got to know whether
I'm having vegetables or waffle

before I can start,
so don't keep me waiting.

- Call them both?
- Call the waffle only.

Call biscuits?

No. I'll keep biscuits out all the time,
just pick them up yourself.

Pick up your own bread
and your own biscuits.

Bread on a plate,
biscuits in a basket.

And remember, biscuits call for a napkin
to keep them hot.

Three biscuits per person,
more if they want them.

And remember,
you're responsible for desserts, too.

- I know, desserts and starters.
- That's right. Desserts and starters.

Pancho!

So, remember,
dip the soup yourself.

Mm-hm.

And, um, starters,
everyone gets a starter.

Oh, Pancho, do we have any extra napkins?

Um, I don't think so.

You don't, at all?
Mm-mm.

- People.
- How many?

Four.

Four at number nine, soups all around,
two and two, one waf.

Fine. But don't call soup,
just dip it up yourself.

Oh, right.

Put this on.

Honey, use your...

- Good evening.
- Hello.

Thank you so much
for coming tonight.

My name is Mildred
and this is not only our very first night,

- but you are our very first guests.
- Oh.

So, I do hope you end up
liking our little place

and keep on being our guests.

Thank you, I'm sure we will.

Why, how do you do?

- Hi.
- Waffles.

Mr. Sawyer, Mrs. Sawyer.

Please.

This is so nice. Thank you.

Delicious chicken!

Thank you.

And don't forget, there are homemade pies
as well you might like taking home with you.

Oh, I think we should.

Two at number three, but one of them's a kid that
won't have soup.

So, she wants tomato juice with
a piece of lemon and some celery salt.

I told her we don't serve it, but she says it's what
she always has. So, what do I do now?

There's Mother.

By God, Mildred,
this is really something.

You got yourself a piece of property this time.

I mean, this place is real.

- Bert. Veda.
- Say there, Wally.

I was just about to give these two a tour.

I'm telling you,
you're gonna have a mob in here.

That's the thing about direct-mail advertising. It's not
what you send, it's who you send it to.

I hit up every name
on that old Pierce Homes list

and I just ran into six different people.
They said they're coming here!

By the way, you did attend
to that transfer of beneficiary?

On the fire insurance?

Nah, I thought I'd wait
until the joint burned down.

OK. Just asking.

I'm telling you. Mob.

Well, Mother. I think you've done very well,
considering everything.

Well, thank you, Veda.

I was hoping it was something
you'd be proud of.

Oh, there's Ida.
Will you all excuse me?

Mildred. Look at you.

My husband wanted to come, but he got a call on a
job and had to run. So, I'm solo.

Oh, Mildred, it's just grand.

And the space you got.

You could get two more fours in easy,
just by shifting these twos.

And using trays. You got no idea
how much that helps.

It'll save you at least one girl. At least.

I should get back to the kitchen.
But I'll come visit.

Ah, you go. Go on.

Two fours just come in,
Mrs. Pierce.

I got room for one,
but what do I do with the other?

I can shove two twos together,
but not till I get Miss Ida moved out.

- No, no! Let her alone.
- Well, then, what'll I do?

Seat four, ask the others to wait.

Oh.

Let me do it.

Excuse me.

- Letty! Wrong door.
- I know, I know.

Thank you so much for coming.

I have one table available now,
but if you wouldn't mind waiting,

it should just be
a couple of moments for another.

All right, then.

I'm sorry there aren't any chairs.

Someone will be with you in a moment.

Excuse me? More?
Thanks.

Why in the world are you
washing more plates?

He's washing plates, Mrs. Pierce,
when it's soup bowls I need!

Because we're all out
and I can't serve any starters without 'em!

Soup bowls, stupid! Soup bowls!

Arline, please, I need you clearing tables.
It's backing up out there.

Oh!

I'm sorry, Mrs. Pierce.

Just clean it up,
then help Arline outside.

Oh! Damn it!

Shoot!

Oh, damn!

Please, everyone. Nothing's going out!
We need to start moving!

Pancho, if you could...

OK, Mildred...

It's them dishes that's causing it.

Now, she ain't no good out there,
none whatever.

So, let her wipe while he washes,
and that'll help.

Just give us a second,
we'll get this train right back on track.

OK, call your starters.

- Oh. Um...
- Call your starters.

I want a right and left
for two, three, and four.

Chicken and tomato for one,
and they've been waiting for several minutes.

- So, we better...
- Nah, that's fine. Let's get a move on.

Hello? Anything I can do?

Lucy! No, dear.

- Everything's under...
- Sure there is. Follow me.

Eighty-five cents!

Everything's 85 cents!

Shall we get a pie to go?
Absolutely.

Thank you.

- Hi.
- Hi.

Here's your waffles.

Chicken and vegetable.

- It's just terrific.
- Oh, thank you.

I tell you, I haven't had waffles like that
since I was a kid. I love 'em like that.

I'm so pleased.

- Mildred?
- Yes.

It's Sally Crough.

Oh! Of course.

Mildred, I... I was so very sorry
to hear about the little one.

Thank you.

Thank you, Mrs. Crough.

I got a four on six,
chicken and tomato, two wafs.

And nine won't budge.

Mother! Mother!

Guess who's coming into your restaurant
right this very instant!

- You'll never, ever guess!
- Well, who?

Monty Beragon!

And who is Monty Beragon?

Mother, don't you know?

I guess not.

He plays polo for Midwick,
and he lives in Pasadena.

And he's rich and good-looking,

and all the girls just wait for his picture
to come out in the paper.

He's the keenest!

Say! Did she just tell you
who came walking into this place?

I've never seen her so sassed up.

Oh, I'm telling you, Mildred,
if that guy's here, you are in!

There isn't a restaurant in town wouldn't
pay to have that guy eat there. Am I right?

- He's very well known.
- Known? Hell, he's a shot!

I just wonder how he got wind of us.
He wasn't on anybody's list.

And I doubt that he reads those Glendale rags.

Evidently, Mildred's reputation as a cook has
spread far and wide.

Which seems sufficient reason, in my book, without
doing any fancy sleuthing about it.

- Yeah, well, I got a notion to find out. I think...

Why didn't you tell me about the little girl?

I don't know.
I couldn't call anybody.

I didn't hear about it
until her sister told me, just now.

She seems to be quite an admirer of yours.

Well, she's an absolute delight.

But I want you to know, if I'd had any idea about it,
you'd have heard from me.

Oh.

I doubt you're in the humor for gags.

Oh, Monty, they're lovely.

Thank you.

Monty, I'd like you to meet Bert Pierce

- of Pierce Homes, and my...
- Pleasure.

...business advisor, Wally Burgan.

- How do you do?
- Monty Beragon.

- Oh. Excuse me.
- That's it!

Everybody out!

We got two orders up and three waiting,
and we're down on biscuits. Now shoo!

All right, let's go.

After you.
After you.

Try the chicken yet?

There you go.

Well, it's oranges, of course.

There it is.

Oh, here, they're coming out.

Thank you so much.
Well, see you then.

- Good night.
- Good night!

We made 46 dollars and 37 cents!

Forty-seven dollars?

That's 10 more than
I ever dreamed of making.

We went through 24 chickens.

I only planned on 20!

To the best little woman that any guy
was crazy enough to let get away from him.

- To Mildred.
- You ought to know, you cluck.

- Yeah, cut the mush!

Ah, Mildred, I wish you
could have heard the comments.

You got no idea
how they went for that chicken.

It's gonna do just grand.

You're quite a little wizard. I had...
I had no idea.

Thank you.
And I had no idea how late it was.

Bert, I've gotta take Ida back
since she stayed so late.

Could you, uh...
Could you get her home?

- Sure.
- She's got school in the morning.

- Do I have to, Mother?
- Yes, you do.

- Good night, everyone.
- Good night, Mildred.

- Thank you!
- Good night.

Oh, Ida...
Thank you, Lucy.

You bet, Bert.
Thank you for everything!

I found it thrilling.

So, you must tell me, is there...
Is there a special young man in your life?

No, I'm much too young for that.

Too young for that?
What are you talking about?

See, I would imagine that there
would be 100 young men

all lined up around the corner
eagerly waiting to steal a kiss from you.

Ah, well, if you ask me,

I think it's perfectly juvenile
the way most of them behave.

What on earth?

It's all my doing.
We had a date.

Oh, you did?

Yes, yes. We had a date
that I was to take her home.

So, I did.
But we had to take Pop home first.

Or at least, to the...

Mother! We saw...

We saw Biederhof through the window!

And they flopped!

It's true.

I'm sorry.

All right.

All right, young lady.

The time has come.

- Good night, Monty.
- Ah, good night, my darling.

Sleep well. Sweet dreams.

Oh, Mother, isn't he wonderful?

He's terribly nice, yes.

He said I looked so much like you.
He knew exactly who I was.

- So you told him about me?
- Of course!

You appear to have made
quite an impression on her.

I've been looking at that
damn costume all night...

and with great difficulty, restrained myself
from biting it. Now, get it off.

Oh...

- I'm not much in the humor...
- Get it off.

Somehow,
they will let a part of their prosperity

trickle through to the rest of us.

And the second theory,
and I suppose this second theory

goes back to the days of Noah...

- Don't you snicker at me.
- I'm not.

I'm voting for him because somebody's got to put an
end to all this Hoover extravagance...

- Of course.
...and balance this budget.

And all those people demanding help.

You can't tell me people couldn't get along even if
there is a depression

if only they had a little gump.

Yes, ma'am.

You're not even listening to me.

Of course I am. I...
I find your political views fascinating.

But we were discussing
something else entirely.

Oh, we were, were we?

Look, all I know
is what I hear from the kid.

That'll be $1.72.

She takes lessons every week.

Yeah. From some cheap
little ivory thumper over in Glendale.

- Here.
- Certainly not.

Oh, Monty, please.
You've been too generous.

Just this once.

And what do we mean when
we talk about the reduction of poverty?

We mean, I think, the reduction
of the causes of poverty.

Look, it's not up to me to give you advice.
It's really none of my affair.

Monty, please!

You spend more time with her
than anyone these days.

She absolutely adores you.

Well, then why not put her with somebody
who can really take charge of her?

Like who, for instance?

Well, listen.

If you're serious, there's a fellow in Pasadena
I think could do wonders. Charlie Hannen.

He was quite well known up to a few years ago in
the concert field

and then his lungs cracked up
and he came out here.

What?

Nothing.

You're swell, that's all.

Yeah, you bet I'm swell.

Monty!

See what you make me do?

So, how do we get in touch with this...

Hannen.

He's organist, or choirmaster,
whatever you call it, at our church.

But I know he takes in a few pupils.

I'm sure I can get him
interested in her.

And in his hands,
she'd be getting somewhere.

I always want to play it that way.

I'll tell Rachmaninoff
when I see him next.

And you've never studied harmony?

Just a little.

Just a little, what?

I beg your pardon?

I might warn you, Veda,
with young pupils,

I mix quite a bit of general instruction in
with the musical.

Now, if you don't want a clip on the ear,
you'll call me "sir."

Yes, sir.

Now, play the bit in
the Rachmaninoff again

the way you said
you always wanted to play it.

Ha-ha.

If you did play it like that
you'd be in a little trouble, wouldn't you?

Still, it could have been written that way.

I really think Rachmaninoff's way is better.

I mean, I find a touch of banality
in yours, don't you?

What's banality?

- Sir.
- I mean it sounds... well, corny.

Cheap.

Play it an octave higher,
add a few trills, and it's...

"Listen To The Mocking Bird"
before you knew it.

Yes, I see.

But it makes musical sense.

Ugh.

I have plenty of pupils
with talent in their fingers,

very few with anything in their heads.

Your fingers, Veda...

Well, your technique
is God-awful.

At the very least, we'll get some of that conceit
drilled out of you.

But your head...
is something else.

And your sight-reading is remarkable.
That's the sure sign of a musician.

I'd like her over here twice a week

for one lesson in piano and another lesson
in the theory of music.

I suppose nothing will come out of it,
if we're really honest.

Many are called, in this business,
few are chosen.

And, God, Veda!
Your playing stinks!

I ought to charge 100 bucks
just to have to listen to it!

- Oh, let her bawl.
- Veda!

It's nothing compared to what she'll be doing when I
get through with her.

Veda.

Oh, Mother!

Oh, darling, what is it?

I was so afraid...

he wouldn't take me...

and then...
and then he wanted me!

He said I had something in my head.

Mother, in my head!

Oh, Bert,
I wish you could have been there,

just to see her face,
and what it meant to her.

You always said Veda was artistic, Mildred.

I just always thought it ran in families,
that kind of thing.

Well, it has to start somewhere.

Well, you were right.
God damn it.

Who cares if she can tinkle the keys or not?

Is that what made
Irving Berlin a millionaire?

Irving Berlin? I thought she
was going to be a classical musician.

A virtuoso.

More coffee?

Thanks, doll.

I'm fine.

Can I ask a favor?

Anything.

- I want to borrow the piano at Mom's.
- Borrow it?

- You know they'd only be too glad to...
- No. I don't want it as a gift.

It would just be for a little while.

See, I want to get Veda a piano myself.

But the kind of piano
she ought to have, I mean,

a real grand, costs $1100.

They'll give me terms, but...

I shouldn't be taking on
any more debt, not just now.

So, what I'd like to do is open
a special account down at the bank.

If I keep putting in, I know
by next Christmas I can manage it.

- Sure thing, Mildred.
- Thanks, Bert.

- And don't breathe a word.
- Mm-mm.

This is preeminently
the time to speak the truth...

...the whole truth, frankly and boldly.

Nor need we shrink

from honestly facing conditions
in our country today.

This great nation will endure,
as it has endured,

will revive and will prosper.

So, first of all,
let me assert my firm belief

that the only thing
we have to fear is...

fear itself.

Oh! Oh, there's Mother.

Nameless,
unreasoning, unjustified terror,

which paralyzes needed efforts

to convert retreat into advance.

Practices of the unscrupulous money changers

stand indicted in the court
of public opinion,

- rejected by the hearts and minds of men.
- There's Mother. Excuse me.

- They have no vision...
- Mother!

...and when there is no vision,
the people perish.

Yes, the money changers have fled

from their high seats
in the temple of our civilization.

We may now restore that temple
to the ancient truths.

Let me make it clear to you
that the banks will take care of all needs,

except, of course,
the hysterical demands of hoarders,

and it is my belief that hoarding
during the past week

has become an exceedingly
unfashionable pastime

in every part of our nation.

It needs no prophet to tell you that when
the people find that they can get their money...

So, you got any plans for repeal?

- Repeal? You mean of prohibition?
- Yeah, just that.

Why, I don't see how it affects me.

You kiddin' me?
It affects you plenty.

You may not have heard, but folks out there are
getting crazy for a drink.

A decent drink out in the open
without a secret password,

or some yegg with his face in a slot.

You think your trade's gonna stick by you because
they like your chicken

and they want to help
a plucky little woman get along?

Like hell, they will.

When they find out you're staying dry
they'll tag you for a back number

and go where they can
get what they want.

What, you think I should sell liquor?

It'll be legal, won't it?

I wouldn't even consider such a thing.

Why not?

Do you think I run a saloon?

Mildred, it's not going to be
like it was in the old days.

It's going to be respectable.

It's going to put the restaurant industry
back on its feet.

But I don't know the first thing about liquor.

Well, I do.

You might say
Ike has a vested interest in the industry.

So, listen to this.

You put in the booze,
and I'll run it for ya

for a straight 10% of what I take in, plus tips.

You? A bartender?

Why not? I'd make a damned good one.

And how much would all this cost me,
in your expert opinion?

500, tops, for bar, construction,
furniture, plus the liquor.

$500?

Oh, Lucy... I don't know.

This place is going gangbusters.
It's packed every night.

It's just not that simple.
I've got loans. There's...

Veda's piano to think about.
I've still barely made a dent.

And then there's...
There's Monty.

Monty? He's flush.

He looks it enough.

The truth is, his business went bust.
Just last month.

What?

The growers, the farmers, that raise the fruit,
they all signed up with the exchange.

That's it.

Every dime he had was in that fruit company.

He's had to put his house on the market.

I had no idea.

- And you're...
- I'm helping out.

It's only temporary.
He'll land on his feet.

I'll be.

So I've really gotta do this?

It's what I'd do.

- Next one's legal!

That's Robert Mackey over there.

I tell you, if that church mouse is in here, prohibition
really has ended.

Your Frankie was right.

I don't want to talk about it.

What is it, 80% profit per drink?

Happy customers?
I don't see the question.

- Wally says I don't have a choice.
- Mmm.

Is that your third drink?

I don't know. Who's counting?

- Why?
- Well, now I...

You didn't say anything to Veda,
did you, about the piano?

- No.
- I can't stand the thought of disappointing her.

Not a word.

- Truly?
- Scout's honor.

Let's get out of here.

Could you just run her by
after practice tomorrow?

She knows exactly what she needs.
I won't have time before Sunday.

She doesn't need a new dress
to see my mother.

It's not just for that.

Then where?

Quick sup at the pie wagon,
or home sweet home?

Not the pie wagon.
Why do you have to call it that?

Yes, take her to dinner.

- I'll meet you after the rush.
- Mm-hm.

For dinner, and gasoline.

Your paid gigolo thanks you.

I don't think that's very nice.

Well, it's true, isn't it?

Is that the only reason
you come here?

What? Not... Not at all.

Come what may,
swing high, swing low,

you're still the best piece of tail I ever had
or could imagine.

Monty, suppose you go home.

What? What's the matter with you?

I think you know.

By all that's holy, I don't know.

I told you to go.

Baby, let...
let's be straight here.

The time to worry is when
those kinds of feelings go bust,

not when they're going strong.

I was just paying you a compliment.

- What you didn't like was how.
- If you told me that

and intended it as a compliment,
then it might have been one, I don't know.

But when you tell me that,
and it's the only thing you have to tell me,

then it's not a compliment.

It's the worst thing anyone could say.

I get it.

You want the "I love you" scene.

I want you to go.

Oh, we're talking about words.

I'm not a poet. I...

I say something my own way,
and, wham, you go moral on me.

It's a pure question
of communication, and...

- That's a lie!
...if you don't...

All I've ever been to you
is a piece of tail.

You're ashamed of me!

It's no surprise.
I've known it all along.

Why don't you just admit it, Monty?

You look down on me because I work!

- You're mad.
- No!

You look down on me
because I cook food and sell it.

You look down on everybody that works.

But I got news for you.

You're the one that's gonna
have to start working!

Of course I'm gonna work!

When?

As soon as I get the damn house sold,
and that whole mess straightened out.

Oh, Monty.

You make me laugh!

There's nothing about that house
that can't be put in the hands of an agent.

You'd just rather keep that address
on Orange Grove Avenue

where you can cook your own eggs
in the morning,

drive over to the club
in the afternoon,

and eat your dinner here with Veda,
and take your spending money from me,

than go out and find a job.
Who wouldn't?

Sure...

I don't know anybody I'd rather
take money from than you.

Your paid gigolo
is damn well satisfied.

There we are.
One for you.

- There you are.
- Thank you.

And for you. Want a biscuit?

- Mom?
- Thank you.

Can I please have more?

Sugar and champagne.
What could go wrong? Right?

And every one of you.

Merry Christmas.

- Stop it, Hans!
- Thank you, Mrs. Pierce.

Merry Christmas.

- Oh, thank you, Mrs. Pierce!
- Thank you.

I'm sorry, ma'am,
I can't understand what you're saying!

Over the varlets' yulabaloo!

Just hop on down
Mildred's foot-stompin' hoedown!

You know, if it wasn't for the labor force
in this country...

We wouldn't have a country
without working men and women!

It's no use, Mrs. Roosevelt,
you might as well save your breath.

How are people supposed to enjoy themselves with
all that yelling going on?

Oh, they're lovely!
That is so, so dear of Father!

Oh! Here.

Let me help you.

Oh, I can't wait to go riding!

- Oh, they're very smart.
- Aren't they?

And this is for you, dear.

Best for last!

What could it be?

It's so small.

It's... It's not what I was
hoping to give you, but it's...

I think it'll go nicely with school clothes

- as well as with more...
- Thanks.

Veda.

Hello?
Merry Christmas, Veda!

Oh, Father! I just opened them up
and they're wonderful! I adore them.

Well, good. Do they fit all right?
Like a dream!

I'm wearing them right now and I simply refuse to
take them off. I may even sleep in them!

Thank you so very, very much, Father.

What was that all about?

Somebody kindly tipped her off.

- Not me.
- No.

Not you.

So, what did you give her?

- A wristwatch.
- Hey, she's got nothing to complain about.

I know.

You'll get her the piano when you can.

Is she coming later, to the cemetery?

I... I don't know.

I don't... I don't know.

Is that everything?

You know, you might want
to make a list so...

- you remember who sent what.
- Christ, I hate this dump.

Is there anything in particular
that you object to?

No, Mother.

And, please, don't start changing things around just
to please me.

No, nothing in particular.

Just every lousy, stinking part of it.

And if it were to burn down tomorrow,
I wouldn't shed a tear.

From The Elixir Of Love,

by Gaetano Donizetti,
1798-1848.

I see.

You'll put out that cigarette,
and pick up that match.

Like hell I will.

Glendale, California.

Land Where The Orange Tree Blooms,
by Ambroise Thomas.

"Garden spot of the world"?

More like a wormhole for grubs.

I can only guess
where that came from.

You are such a sap, Mother.

You actually believe he'd marry... you?

Yes!

If I were willing.

Ye gods and little fishes,
hear my cynical laughter.

If I were willing!

Stupid,
don't you know what he sees in you?

About what you see, I think.

No, it's your legs.

What?!

He said that? To you?

Why shouldn't he?
We're very good friends, and...

I hope I have a mature point of view
on such matters.

Really, he speaks very nicely
about your legs.

And he has a theory about them.

He says that a gingham apron

is the greatest provocation ever invented
by woman for the torture of man.

And that the very best legs
are found in kitchens,

not in drawing rooms.

Ha. "Never take the mistress
if you can get the maid" is how he puts it.

Not that he would
consider them his equals, per se.

Try as he will at his slumming,

his shoes are still custom-made.

They ought to be.
They cost me enough.

You didn't know that, did you?

You buy his shoes?

- Ye gods and little fishes.
- His shoes...

and his shorts, and his drinks,

and everything else he's needed
over the last four months.

Including his polo dues!

So, you needn't call on
your gods and little fishes.

No, Miss Pierce,

it's not my legs he likes me for,
it's my money!

And so long as it's that,
we'll see who's the varlet and who's the boss.

Do you think he hauls you all over town because he
likes it?

No! In fact...

he actually complains about it.

Surprising as it may seem,
he'll marry me, or not marry me,

so his gentlemanly belly
will have something to eat.

And, lo and behold,
you're in exactly the same position.

And I say there'll be
no more money for you,

not one cent, until you take back everything you've
said, and apologize for it!

I?
I don't have to apologize for anything!

You're the one who ruins
everything always!

- And... that's the piano...
- Ow!

...that you're gonna practice on...
- Stop!

...until I get ready in my own good time
to buy you another!

So his phone's down.
Send him a wire, baby.

There's no good reason to go out
on a night like this, none.

All things must come to an end, Lucy.

I promised myself it would be tonight,
and it will be.

- Oh, that's all fine and good...
- I'm going!

That's all there is to it.

Well, not without your
trench coat and galoshes!

I had no idea you'd show up!

- What do you mean?
- Careful. What...

Slow down.

How the hell did you get here anyway?

- I thought they'd closed the roads.
- Well...

You know, Mildred,
sometimes I wonder if you have good sense.

How could I refuse such a rare invitation?

Pretty gloomy, huh?

Not what it used to be.
It's not so bad upstairs.

Yep, the Beragon brothers'
"House of Beragon" has seen better days.

- Is your mother still...
- Still in Philadelphia? Yes.

It's just up here.

Her bank stock was assessable.

And the depositors,
they want their money, so...

until the tide turns...

Anyway, here we are.

My humble abode.

Why, it's quite nice, actually.

Servants' quarters, really.

But I like having a little fire
and they seemed cozier, somehow.

Well, get a load of you.

Such grandeur deserves a drink.

Shouldn't we wait for the Ewings?

The who?

Isn't that their name?

There aren't gonna be any Ewings.
Or any Biltmore.

- What's got into you?
- What do you mean? It's New Year's Eve.

Can't you see there's a storm going on?
A real neck-breaker?

I didn't see any storm.

Well...

If that's the case, I'm going home.

I'm certainly not in the mood for this.

There's only one decision
you'll be making tonight.

- Red pajamas or green pajamas?
- Nope.

I'm going home.

In case you change your mind,
I'll leave the green pajamas next to your drink...

- I haven't left yet.
- Of course you haven't. I'm inviting you...

How could you go
and tell her those things?

T- Tell whom what?
If you don't mind my asking.

You know perfectly well
what I'm talking about.

How could you say such things
to that child?

And who gave you the right
to talk about my legs anyway?

Well, everyone else does.
Why not me?

- What?
- Well, that's how you like it.

If it wasn't, you wouldn't have your skirts
taken up every time...

I don't care what you think!
It's no conversation for a child!

Child! I don't know how it was
where you came from.

Maybe the... the sweet young things
were told by their mothers at age 17

and were greatly surprised.

But that kid? She knows.
What am I supposed to do?

Act like a zany when I
drive off with you at night,

and don't bring you back
until the next morning?

You think she doesn't know
where you've been?

Hell, she even asks me how many times.

And you tell her?

Sure.

She greatly admires my capacity, and yours.

Oh.

Now I see it.

I always thought it was funny
that she never invited

these Pasadena people
to visit her once in a while.

Because you've been filling her up
with all this foolishness!

The best legs are found in kitchens,
not in drawing rooms?

She actually believes
Glendale isn't good enough.

- And that I'm not good enough!
- Oh, for God's sake.

What invitations are you talking about?
To my mother's?

To cocktail parties I've dragged her to?

- Who would expect a 14-year-old girl...
- There've been plenty of others.

- Girls her own age.
- No, actually, there haven't.

Girls her own age, if you haven't noticed,
don't interest Veda.

You've set her against me.
I- I-I don't care...

I don't care a bit
for all your fine talk!

You've set her against me!

You wanna know why Veda never invites anybody
to that house of yours?

- No, I don't! I'm going home.
- Why nobody ever goes there?

Because you're afraid to have people over.

What would you do with them?
You haven't got the nerve!

Doesn't it strike you as funny
that Veda has a hundred friends

here, there, everywhere she goes,
and you haven't any?

No, I'm wrong, you have one.
That bartender.

But that's all. Nobody ever gets
invited to your house, nobody.

What...
What are you talking about?

How can I give parties, or invite people, with... with
a living to make, and a business to run?

Living, my eye!
That's your excuse!

Because nobody but a varlet
would give a second's thought

to what you've been talking about tonight.

You know, once I thought I was mistaken,
that maybe you were a lady, after all.

That was when you handed me
that first $20 bill, and I took it.

You see, a lady wouldn't care.

But you, before I'd borrowed even 50 bucks,

you had to go and make a chauffeur out of me to
get your money's worth.

And rub it in. Well, no more.

I've taken my last dime off you,
Mildred, and God willing,

before my sun goes down,
I'll pay back every cent of it!

Ahhh!

You know, what this needs
is the crime of rape.

Mildred!

Mildred! Don't be a fool!

Not in this storm.
Don't be a damn fool!

Oh, God. Help!

Mother! What...

Tomorrow, you get your piano.