Mildred Pierce (2011): Season 1, Episode 5 - Part Five - full transcript

You book a studio at 9:00.

- Not 9:30.

- Not at 10:00.

Ah!

Eh, okay, 9:00.

- Mr. Treviso?
- Yes?

Do I know you?

I'm terribly sorry to startle you.
I'm Mrs. Pierce.

We met once before.

My daughter, Veda, I believe,
is now studying with you, singing.

Uh-huh. Okay.



Well, um...

for reasons best known to herself,
Mr. Treviso,

Veda prefers her independence
from me at the moment.

Just the same, it was I who supported
her studies from the beginning and...

even though she elects
to live apart from me now,

I still feel her music is my responsibility.

So...

in the future, Mr. Treviso...

I'd like you to forward your bills
directly to me.

I'm very sorry, madame,

but this is a subject
which I cannot discuss with you.

You excuse me,
I have important engagement.

Well, Mr. Treviso, I'm very sorry too
but I'm afraid Veda is my daughter, after all.

- I feel I have every right...
- Why do you want this girl back?



- Tell me that.
- What? You're mistaking my motives.

No mistake, no mistake at all.

I tell Veda, "Hey! You pretty lucky, kid, somebody
else pay a bill now."

And she,
she got no idea who to call up, say thanks.

"Sure. Is swell.
How you like to see me again, huh?"

That wasn't my intention
but, certainly, if Veda did feel...

Listen, you.

You seem like a sensible lady, no?

You go to a zoo, huh?
See little snake?

It's from India, is all red, yellow, black.
Very pretty little snake.

You take home, huh?

Make little pet, like puppy dog?
No, you got more sense.

I tell you, it is the same with this Veda.

You buy ticket, you look at the little snake,
but you no take home. No.

What are you insinuating,
that my daughter is a snake?

No, is coloratura soprano.
Is much worse.

- Uh, what is a coloratura s...
- Madame,

is special fancy breed,
like a blue Persian cat.

Come once in a lifetime,

sing all in the trill,

staccato, ha, ha, ha, cadenza.

Tough stuff.
Cost like hell.

If is real coloratura, brings more dough
to grand opera house than big wop tenor.

And this girl is coloratura.

Even her bones is coloratura.

You see the high nose,
the deep antrum sinus?

You see Snack-O-Ham program?

I did.

So. She is not good singer.
Is great singer.

She's a wonderful girl.

No, is wonderful singer.

The girl is something else.

Well, that's your surmise, Mr. Treviso.

Is no surmise.

For last two weeks,

ever since Snack-O-Ham program,

this little empress have told me that her
poor, dumb mother will try to get her back.

And first thing she do, is come in here,
offer pay for singing lessons.

- She...
- Yes! I tell you -

is snake, is bitch, is coloratura.

And me, I no enjoy a snake bite.

You want to try and keep her
under Mama's wing her whole life?

That is your business.

Me, I have nothing to do with this intrigue.

Now, if you'll excuse me.

- Avanti.
- Si, maestro.

- Tommy, pull over the car.
- Yes, ma'am.

Monty? Is that you?

- Mildred?

What are you doing here?

Uh, hot date with my creditors.

Sort of between cars these days.

Well, hop in. I'll give you a lift.

No, no, I've actually come to enjoy
the public pageantry, but you're very kind.

Don't be silly, I insist.

I can't stand to argue with a lady.

What a surprise.

Would you fill up table thirteen's coffee?

Would you look who's here?

Well... you look wonderful.

Can't complain.

Rather, I... I could, but I won't.

And you?
How's our dear Veda?

Oh.

Busy, very busy. She, um...

took an apartment by herself
a few months ago.

Mm-hm.

It bothered her to have the neighbors
listening while she vocalized.

- She's singing, you know.
- I heard. I heard.

She quite bowled me over, in fact.

You have quite a talented daughter,
Mrs. Pierce. Please pass on my regards.

Thank you. I shall.

Oh, who am I fooling, Monty?

I haven't talked to her in months.
She won't answer my calls, my letters.

- I'm honestly at my wits' end.
- I'm sure it's just a phase she's going through.

She'll be coming back sooner or later.
They always do.

How would you know?

No, I hope you're right.

I'm right. I'm always right.

There is something you may
have been right about all along.

Oh?

It's Glendale. I've simply gotta find a place
more centrally located.

- I'm in the car all day.

Well, hallelujah.

- I've been thinking Pasadena.
- Mm-hm.

Between the three restaurants
it would really be the most convenient.

Actually, I've been meaning to call you
to coerce you into showing me around a little.

Just to help me get my bearings.

Nobody knows it better than you.

- Sounds like you need a real-estate agent.
- No, that's exactly what I want to avoid.

Well, perhaps something could be arranged.

I'd have to check my schedule, of course.

Would you?

On one condition.

I get this.

Ah.

This side of Sierra Madre
is less desirable,

- though the price tag drops considerably.
- Oh. All right.

- Eaton Drive is charming.
- Mm-hm.

McDonald Park, that's a laugh.

Went to school with Duncan, when his father was
busy buying up the block and renaming it.

This one off Lomora looks promising.
I don't know about the condition.

Oh, and this place,
the old Cunningham estate is top-drawer.

- I like that.
- This you can skip, and this one.

I wouldn't even look at that.
And this old Tudor knockoff, it's a bit of a farce.

Oh, I don't like that at all.

You're better off in Oak Knolls
or Gwinn Park, I think.

Uh-huh.

Here's 5441.
Not sure about the condition, but...

might as well have a look.

Stop that!

Not quite what I had in mind.

- Do we get the dog too?

Stop that!

Well...

Beautiful.

This? Could be.
With a little money spent on it.

Come in, if you want.

I don't have much to offer.

Just for a peep.

Beautiful.

Just beautiful.

What do they want for it?

Oh, uh, year before last, 75 flat.

Last year, 50,000.
Now it's more like 30.

When was it built?

Uh, ground broke in '09.

So, I can offer you tea,
or something stronger.

I'd love something stronger.

I'm out of ice and seltzer.

I prefer it straight.

Ha! Since when?

I do think that Oak Knoll property
is something to look into.

I'll see what I can dig up on the owners.

Cheers.

You haven't changed so much.

On liquor,
I'd say you were about the same.

Well, I prefer rye these days.

Gosh, Monty.
It's such a wonderful place.

I'm tempted to stop looking right now.

It does have its charms.
You haven't even seen the gardens.

You don't have to sell me.

And you don't have to stand there
yelling from across the room, either.

So how are you? Honestly.

I'm fine.

I'm glad.

How are you?

I'm fine.

Well, I'm glad too.

You know,
gentlemen in my circumstances don't...

don't have a great deal of romance
in their lives.

If you keep this up, you might find yourself
the victim of some ravening brute.

Oh!

Being ravened isn't so bad.

Just the same,
we should try and stick to the house.

One thing bothers me.

What's that?

Well, if I were to actually buy the place,
what would happen to you?

I mean, would there be a brute...

ravening around somewhere,

or would I have it all to myself?

All yours. Lock, stock and barrel.

I see.

And I made a slight mistake before
about the price.

To you, it's $29,580.

That'll square up a little debt I owe you
that's been bothering me for quite some time.

You owe me a debt?

If you try, I think you can recall it.

Boo!

Oh, damn it, your legs
are still immoral.

- You think they're bowed?
- Stop waving them around.

I asked you.

No.

Oh.

- Oh, Monty.

How could I ever live here without you?
I couldn't do it.

Well, I always said you'd make
some guy a fine wife...

- if you didn't live in Glendale.

Is that a proposal?

If you move to Pasadena, it is.

- You mean if I buy this house.
- No.

No, it's about three times
as much house as you need and...

there are plenty of other likely wiser choices.
But I won't live in Glendale.

Then all right.

Yes.

- Yes!

Mmm...

What do you say we ride to Laguna
to celebrate? Under the stars.

Mmm.

Not unless I can go in a dinner coat.

That mockery of elegance
is about all I have left.

Then we'll skip Laguna.
I love you in a dinner jacket.

We'll step out properly and pop champagne.

If it's true.
If we really are engaged.

Mmm.

That's it. K-E-C-A,
"the Aristocrat of the Air."

Told you she'd be on it.

Mm-hm.

You know who that is,
don't you, on the radio?

That's Veda Pierce,
Mrs. Pierce's daughter.

- You don't say.
- I do say.

Give my regards to Mr. Eckstein.

Yes, ma'am.
Thank you, ma'am.

She's a comer, too.
You watch!

I sure will.

Here. And the receipt.

Also, Mrs. Jaeckel,
it appears I might be...

Iooking at some extra expenses this month
and may need to adjust my compensation.

What is it right now, exactly?

Seventy-five a week
from each of the corporation's parts -

the three restaurants,
and the pie factory. That's...

300 total.

Starting next week,
increase that to four.

Four hundred?

Yes.

We'll have to transfer funds
from the corporate reserve, ma'am.

Into current cash.
To cover the balance.

Whatever you think best, Mrs. Jaeckel.
It's just for the time being.

Certainly, Mrs. Pierce.

Mrs. Pierce?
It's Mr. Beragon on the line.

Thank you, Sigrid.

Monty?

Get over here.
Something to show you at the plantation.

- What, you mean, right now?
- Yes, right now.

Hello?

When the furniture came,
I couldn't resist any longer.

Oh, Monty!

It's wonderful.

I have a simple theory.

Whatever pertains to comfort,
shoot the works.

But with whatever pertains to show,
be a little modest.

People like you better
if you aren't so damned rich.

You're very wise.

Oh, you framed it.

The dining room set arrives Thursday,
but have a look in here.

Oh!

Oh, well,
I don't know about this.

You don't think it's...

Well, I don't know what to think.

Sit down a minute,
and take a lesson in interior decorating.

I love lessons in decorating.

- Do you know the best room I was ever in?
- No. Tell me.

That den of yours, or Bert's rather,
over in Glendale.

Everything in that room
meant something to that guy.

Those banquets, those foolish-looking blueprints of
houses that'll never be built.

They do things to you
because it's all part of him.

And that's why the room is good.

And do you know the worst room
I was ever in?

Go on, I'm learning.

It's that living room of yours,
in the same house.

Not one thing in it, until that piano came,
ever meant a thing to you...

or him, or anybody else.

You see, a home isn't meant to be a...
a museum...

filled with Picasso paintings, or Oriental rugs,
like this place used to be.

It's meant to be furnished with things
that actually matter.

Let's have this place the way we want it.

And if you don't like the pie-wagon corner, I do.

I love it.

Then it stays.

- I love it.

Oh, look at you two!
To the newlyweds!

To the happy couple!

Right this way, folks.
Congratulations, pumpkin.

One more for good luck.

Congratulations, Mr. Beragon.

Tommy. Thanks.

He's a real thoroughbred, Mildred.
I couldn't be happier for you.

Oh, thank you, Bert.
That means a great deal to me.

Hi.

- Where's Mrs. Biederhof? I'd love to say hello.
- Well, funny story.

Maggie's husband struck oil in Texas not long ago
and Maggie decided to go join him there.

These days I'm living with Mom and Pop.

But wha... what husband?
I... I thought she was a widow.

Well, there's the thing of it. So did I.

- It's enough to take your breath away.
- Oh, Bert.

Feels just like Ginger Rogers
coming down the stairs, don't it?

Best wishes, Mrs. Beragon.

- Thank you. Thank you so much.
- Honestly, Mildred,

it just looks like heaven.

It's the lap of luxury, all right.

I tell you, it's all Monty.

- Oh.
- Thank you.

You know, Mildred, I've had a heck of a time getting
you on the phone this week.

Last month's books -
I can't make heads or tails of the balances.

If you got a minute,
maybe you could clear something up for me?

Oh, please, Ida, can't we leave business
just for one day?

First thing tomorrow, I promise.

Well, I suppose it can wait one more day.

Still no sign of Mr. Beragon?

Oh, yes, ma'am,
he just arrived with a young lady.

Oh, there she is.

Hello, darling.

Back with the olives, catastrophe averted.

Thank you, Arline.

They said you arrived
with a young lady and I just...

Oh.

I thought I was doing so well.

Oh, you're doing brilliantly.

I sent her that invitation myself.

And I know she saw the notices in the paper.

And I just...

I just hoped,

that's all.

I'm sure she got the message.

Then that's even worse.

Don't be so sure.

Encore.

- Thank you.
- You're welcome.

Well, God damn it,
how did you get to be a singer?

When I discovered you, practically pulled you out of
the gutter, you were strictly keyboard.

- Darling.
- I turn my back for one second

and you turn into some kind of yodeler.

Well, God damn it...

- it was an accident.
- Well, then report.

- I was at the Philharmonic.
- Oh, yes, I've been there.

And it was... the Schubert Unfinished.

And afterwards, I was walking
across the park to my car

and I was humming it.
That's when I saw him, walking ahead of me.

- Who?
- Treviso.

Now, I had plenty of reason for not wanting
to meet the honorable signor.

Why so?

I'd played for him once before, and...

he wasn't at all appreciative.

But he stopped and turned around

and said, "Was that you just now, singing?"

I wasn't so proud of
my singing just about then,

because I was singing full chest
and sounded exactly like a man.

Hannen used to call me the Glendale baritone.

So I said it really wasn't any of his concern
whether I was singing or not.

He grabbed me by the arm
and said it concerned him very much,

and insisted that I meet with him
the very next day.

- And?
- Thanks.

And I went.

How could I refuse?

- Then, for a solid week, he worked on me...
- Here you go.

...trying to get me to sing like a woman.

And then finally, finally!

It just began to come.

- And that's when I got my revenge.
- Do tell.

Well, he said I had the voice,
but if I wanted to be a real musician

I would have to master music, too.

Mm-hm.

So I asked him if there was
any sight-reading he wanted done.

- Oh, touché.

And he handed me the Inflammatus

from Rossini's Stabat Mater.

Well, I went through that
like a hot knife through butter.

And then I showed him my arranging

and all the theory that
Hannen hammered into me.

And if the wop hit gold in Death Valley

he couldn't have acted more like a goof.

He started going over me
with these little wooden hammers

and gadgets with lights
that went down my throat, and...

he even went digging up my, uh...

- He went for the dairy?
- Now, Monty...

- What?
- Believe it or not, yes!

Turns out it wasn't,
uh, love he was looking for.

Just meat.

He said it enriches the tone.

You just heard the Casta Diva
aria from Bellini's Norma

performed by Miss Veda Pierce.

In Milano? Or Cannes?
When she lifted up her arm, just...

If I ever saw one right out of the can,
Mrs. Pierce, she's it, your daughter.

- There she is, there's Veda.
- Thank you.

Well, you never know.
Congratulations!

Now, I'm not usually one to make
rash decisions, Miss Pierce,

but we're about to start a promotion
on a new vitamin bread, it's called Sunbake.

I handle Miss Pierce.

Moe Levinson.

Ted Hobey.
President, Consolidated Foods.

I'll cut right to the chase, Mr. Levinson.

I'm prepared to offer your client
a two-year contract,

2500 a week, plus a guaranteed mention
in 25% of Consol's national advertising

if you come to New York and sing for
Sunbake bread. How does that strike you?

Sorry, pal, it strikes me fine,
but, uh, she's sewed.

She sings for Pleasant, the mentholated cigarettes,
so it's out of the question.

But... New York! Certainly,
there must be something we could...

Sorry, kid, a contract's a contract. You signed on the
dotted line. Nothing to do about that.

- But...
- Well, I'm sorry to hear it.

But if anything changes, the offer stands.

You keep us in mind.

Thank you, Mr. Hobey, we certainly shall.

- Uh... I'm sorry, Ted.
- That's all right.

Sewed?
To Pleasant cigarettes?

- For an entire year?
- 500 a week is nothing to sneeze at.

It's true, dear.
That's still a great deal of money.

Mother, that's not the point!
There are levels in this business.

We just had the chance to move up,
and we missed it.

Do you have any idea what
New York means to a classical singer?

If Levinson had looked ahead two minutes,
not jumped on the first boat that came along.

- If he hadn't been so greedy...
- Hey, hey.

Now suppose you take it back.

- Suppose you say you're sorry.
- Why should I?

- It's the truth, isn't it?
- 'Cause I got an offer for you,

- and this you're gonna want to hear.
- What offer?

The Philharmonic.

Headliner.

The Philharmonic auditorium?

Why, that's marvelous!

Big time.

Then accept.
If the terms are suitable.

Not so fast, baby.

It's kind of a double offer. They'll take a Pierce, or
they'll take Opie Lucas.

They leave it to me.

I handle you both, and Opie,
she don't cuss me out.

She's nice.

A contralto's no draw.

Contralto gets it,
if you don't apologize.

Okay.

Levy, I apologize.

Don't go startin' nothing with Moe Levinson.
Maybe you don't know where you're comin' out.

Monty, go find Tommy, will you?
Tell him we'll be ready very soon.

- Yes, dear.
- Levy, how 'bout those snaps?

- Congratulations, kiddo!
- Thanks, Monty.

Oh, Veda. The Philharmonic.

Do you remember the first concert
I took you to at the Philharmonic?

It was a Young People's Concert...

Picture time, doll.
Mustn't keep the boys waitin'.

- Excuse me, Mother.
- You go on.

Here she is, fellas. She's all yours.
Over here, Miss Pierce!

Yeah, Miss Pierce, here.
One for the Radio Times.

That's it, that's it. Let's go.

And Qui La Voce
would be the perfect finish.

It'll be no Opie Lucas repertoire,
I promise you that.

Mmm.
Then there's the dress to consider.

The color, the fabric.

Not to mention the little matter
of a publicity agent.

Thank you, Monty.

I saw a lovely pale peach gown
at Bullock's, in satin.

This isn't the kind of dress
you shop for, Mother.

It's not?

This dress gets made.
And the hat.

The hat?
For the Philharmonic?

Just for the first interval.

To give a sense of progression,
a gain in intimacy.

The consummate showman.

We'll need to reserve seats.
A dozen at least.

- I'll talk to Levinson in the morning.
- Yes, do.

And some sort of supper following.
That needs planning as well.

Well, I'm done in.

You ladies are obviously up for hours, scheming.

Don't go, Monty.

You might have heard,
I have chores in the morning.

- I think I'll stay in the tack room tonight.
- Oh, I don't want to turn you out.

That's quite all right.

I guess we're truly middle-aged,
aren't we, Monty?

I guess that's it.

Good night, dear.

Sleep tight.

That's four pounds shrimp,
four pounds lobster, two pounds crab.

- Crab?
- Yes.

And caviar?
One pound caviar, that's correct.

Is this the restaurant account?
No, the second account.

And it's July 20th.
Ah, yes.

Yes, the big night.
Very big night indeed.

- Yes. Thank you, Mr. Peters.
- A pleasure, Mrs. Beragon.

Yes, Sigrid?

I have a pile of messages.

Mr. Eckstein called, says he still hasn't
received his May payment.

- I'll have to call him back.
- Also, your florist called.

- Plus Ida again.
- Oh, Ida! Shoot!

- Um, is that the florist's number?
- Yes.

Oh, and Mr. Burgan called.

Wally? What did he want?

He didn't say.
Just that it was important you call him back.

Take messages.
I'll get back to them as soon as I can.

Yes, Mrs. Pierce...
Yes, Mrs. Beragon.

Tell Miriam not to worry
about restocking tonight.

There'll be plenty of time after the rush.

- Huntington florist.
- Hello, this is Mrs. Beragon.

- Mrs. Beragon, how are you today?
- Very good, thank you.

Now do you have any white orchids?

Take these two down to the cellar.
All right.

Ah, swell.
The delivery we've all been waiting for.

Yes, sir.
Nothing broken, I trust?

All looks fine.

- I would put those on the top.
- Yes, sir.

Hello, dear.

I thought you were seeing
to the garden today.

Well, I was. But the liquor showed up,
so Frederick and I are stocking the galley.

Just checked the Château Lascombes,
1929. A perfect year.

Taste?

Honestly, Monty. At this hour.

No! This is all wrong.
Veda. Veda.

Levy, no!
None of this "Pasadena starlet" business.

It's got to be Glendale. And radio.
And studied right here in Los Angeles.

What do ya mean? This is fantastic!
You couldn't have written it better yourself!

There are 2,000 seats in that place,

and they've all got to feel
like I'm one of them. Don't you see?

Well...
Okay, I guess you got a point.

Afternoon, Mrs. Beragon.

Never thought I'd hear you
rooting for Glendale.

There's a first time for everything.

Are you ready, Mrs. Temple?

Voilà!

Oh, Veda! I think it's enchanting.

It's first class.

We added the bodice.

You don't think it's too vaudeville?

Vaudeville?

I can't come out looking like both Gish sisters.

Oh, don't be silly.

I'd skip the bodice.

All right, without the bodice.

But with a matching parasol.

A parasol? By Saturday?
It'll have to be a rush.

Whatever she needs, Mrs. Temple.

This is a very special occasion.

- Mother, the time! I have rehearsal at 3:00.
- Come. I'll take ya. I'm headed that way now.

Mrs. Beragon, Mr. Beragon.

You two run along.
There's still so much to do here.

The silver. The linens...

Look at you.

You'd think nothing was happening
around here in four days' time!

You'd think everything just happens by itself!

The crowds.

Tommy, I had no idea.

It's a scene, all right.

I'm going to get out here.

Sure thing, Mrs. Beragon.

And tell Veda, break a leg!

Thank you, Tommy, I shall.

Mildred!

It's right down here.

Have you seen her?
Not yet. I was waiting out front.

Monty drove her to rehearsal hours ago,
but the traffic was awful.

That's enough. We got a show to do.
All right, all right.

Let's go. Come on. I'll let you
get back in here later, I promise, all right?

- Veda!
- Sorry, lady.

- That's my daughter.
- Very nice, but there just isn't time.

I'll make sure she gets your flowers, all right?

Veda!

Orchestra to places!

Clear the backstage area, please!

- Suppose we ought to go find our seats.
- Yes.

I'm telling you, Mildred, this thing is a sellout.

Oh, just look at the place.

Mrs. Beragon.

Mr. Levinson.

You must be so proud.

And nervous. I'm nervous.

Hi.

- Dear.
- Mother. Pop.

How is she?
Was she nervous?

Yeah. Like steel.

Fantastic!
Brava!

Brava! Brava!

Brava!

Well, it's none of my business,
but in my opinion,

after an applause like that,
Treviso should have let her sing an encore.

Absolutely divine,
didn't you think?

I'm not much of an authority
in this field myself, Bert,

but it's my impression that encores are
rarely sung in the first half of a program. It's...

It's all reserved for the end.

I'm sure that's the case.

My mistake, then.

- All I know is, they're eating it up.
- Oh, they're eating it up all right.

Oh, yes.

Oh.

Brava!

Bravo!

Brava!

Brava!

Brava!

Even if...

Even if it's not a song that's supposed to be
sung on a symphony program,

may I sing a song just
because I want to sing it?

This one's just for you.

Brava!

Eckstein, Rossi, your market man,
and your two grocers.

- Listen, all they want is some reassurance.
- I spoke to Mr. Eckstein.

I know for a fact that payments
went out on Monday.

The payments did not all go out on Monday.
Or the Monday before.

Listen, Mildred,
nobody here wants any trouble.

Believe me, as counsel to your creditors,

it's in the interest of everybody at that table
that you get yourself back on your feet

and become the A-number-one customer
you've been in the past.

Well, the bakery must be doing all right.

I see your pies all over town.

No, the bakery is doing just fine.

Thank you, Mr. Rossi.

As are the restaurants
in Glendale and Beverly.

But here in Laguna, since the opening
of the Victor Hugo down the street, we...

we have seen a dip in business.

Must be quite a dip.

It's not as bad as all that.

So where's the problem?

It's true this year I've had...

personal expenses and household debt
that have been...

a little more than anticipated.

And I've had to increase my salary
for several months to compensate.

Though I certainly think it's fair, considering my
investment, that should the occasion arise...

Hold on. Hold, hold, hold on.

So what you're telling us is...

you'd be showing a profit if it wasn't
for your mansion in Pasadena?

To be honest, Mr. Eckstein,
it really isn't anyone's business.

None of it's anyone's business, Mildred.

If we just went by what our business was,

we'd have gone to court already,
and kept our questions to ourselves.

But we didn't do that.

We wanted to give you a break
and hear what you had to say.

So, what do you want to know?

I want to know what Veda pays in.

She's a big expense, isn't she?

I don't keep books on my own daughter.

Mildred, Veda is making plenty.

Five hundred a week from Pleasant,
plus what I got her in the settlement.

I mean, why wouldn't you be justified...

in asking her for an amount
that could ease the pressure all around?

Wally, neither you nor anybody else

has a right to take what belongs to me

or what belongs to my child,
to pay the bills of this business!

Maybe you've forgotten,
Mr. Wally Burgan,

that it was you who told me
to incorporate for precisely this reason,

to keep my personal property safe
from any kind of creditor.

Maybe you've forgotten, but I haven't!

I haven't forgotten. You're right, no one here
can take a dime of your money, or Veda's.

All they can do is go to court,
have you declared bankrupt...

take over. The court will appoint receivers.
You'll be out.

Fine! Then I'm out.

You'll be out,
and Ida'll be in.

Who?

Ida?

That's a lie.

She would never do it, never.

Oh, yeah, she would. Sure, she cried at first, said
she wouldn't listen to such a thing

because she was such a good friend of yours,
but she couldn't get to you for weeks.

Just for a little talk.
You were too busy with the concert.

Maybe that hurt her feelings,
maybe it made her wonder. Anyway, now...

she'll listen to reason.

We figure, she can run this business
just as good as anybody can run it.

Maybe not as good as you
when you had your mind on it,

but better than a stage-struck dame who'd rather go
to concerts than pay what she owes!

I'm telling you, Mildred,
you gotta do three things.

You gotta cut down on your overheads,
so you can live off of what you make.

You gotta raise some money,
from someplace -

the place in Glendale, Veda -
so you can square these bills and start over.

And you gotta cut out all this running around
and get down to work.

You show us some action
by a week from tonight...

you can forget about what's been said here.

You don't...

maybe we take a little action ourselves.

Two sets of books...

and they...

I'll be.

- And the accountants, did they...
- It's all my doing, Bert.

All my fault.

The different ledgers were my idea.

But how'd you ever think
you'd pay it all back?

Uh...

Well...

- if everything you tell me is accurate...
- Oh, it is. It is, Bert.

I've told you everything.

You're the only one I've told.

Well... as far as I can tell,
there's been no actual violation of the law.

Not saying it wasn't pretty damn foolish.

But the fact is, Veda's the one costing you money,
and she's the one that's making it.

- She's got to kick in. That's all there is to it.
- I never wanted her to know.

I never wanted her to know either, but she found out
just the same when I hit the deck.

If she'd had a little dough
when Pierce Homes began to wobble...

and I'd taken it,
and Pierce Homes was ours right now,

she'd be better off, right?

And who the hell put that girl
where she is today?

Who paid for all the music? And...

that piano, and the car
and the clothes and...

You did your share.

Mighty little.

You did a lot, Bert.

You did plenty.

We lived very well before the Depression,
as well as any family ever lived in this country.

And for a long time.

Veda was 11 when we broke up.

She's only 20 now.

I've carried on nine years,
but it was 11 for you.

Eleven years and eight months.

Oh!

All right.
Eleven years and eight months.

But you know what? I'm glad.

I'm glad it was eight months.

We didn't know I was pregnant
when we got married.

That proves I loved you, doesn't it?

Me too, Mildred.

Me too.

Bert, would you talk to her?

I can't ask her for money.
I'm not Wally, I wouldn't know how to begin.

Sure.

Thank you.

So, tomorrow sometime?

At the house?

Mildred, we can't wait till tomorrow.

Why? What do you mean?

We've got to talk to her tonight.

Tonight? It's too late, she'll be asleep.

I can't help how late it is,
we've got to see her tonight.

Because you forgot, I forgot, and we
both forgot who we're dealing with here.

Mildred, you can't trust Wally Burgan,
not even till the sun comes up!

He was my pal, and he crossed me.

He was your pal,
and he crossed you.

But he was Veda's pal too, Mildred.

Maybe he's getting ready to cross her too,
and somehow get his hands on her dough!

He... He can't, not for corporate debts.

How do you know?

I know because...

he... he told me so!

- He helped me set up the corporation...
- That's it. He told you!

Wally Burgan told you!

How can we believe anything that guy says?
Maybe that meeting today was just a phony.

Maybe he's getting ready to compel
you to take her money as her guardian,

so he can attack it.
She's still a minor, you know.

Mildred, you're seeing her tonight

and getting her out of that house
before any process server can find you.

- You understand me?
- Yes.

You're meeting me at the Brown Derby
in Hollywood for breakfast,

and by that time I'll be busy.

There'll be four of us at that table.

You, me, Veda...

and a lawyer.

Veda?

Veda?

Monty!

What?

It's me. I have to see you. Let me in.

Why don't you go back to bed,
and let me sleep?

It's about Veda!
Now what?

I need to find Veda
and she's not in her room.

- She hasn't been there all evening.
- Oh, for God's sake, is she an infant?

Maybe she went somewhere.
It's a free country.

- She didn't go anywhere.
- How do you know?

- Her dress is there.
- Couldn't she have changed it?

- Her car is there.
- Couldn't she have gone with somebody else?

Why... Why are you?

Oh.

Oh, God.

Mother.

Look, dear. You have a caller.

She looks a bit confounded,
doesn't she?

For the life of me, I don't know why.

How could you?

How could I? How could I?

That's quite rich, coming from you.

After so many years of using me for all your...
your special purposes.

Expecting me to jump
every time you drop a bill

and begrudging me every cent.

You know, I thought it might be different
this time around. I thought that...

But you can barely even stand to look at me.

You don't think much of me, do you, Mildred?

Does it make a difference what she thinks?

Or what she pays for?

You thought you held the strings
on everybody, didn't you?

You thought you could come around
and dress me up

and use me as bait to lure your
famous daughter back to the teat!

No.

But it was live bait, Mildred.
It was live bait!

And guess what? This time the quarry
and the bait fell in love! No kidding!

And for the first time in your life,
there's nothing... You hear me?

- Nothing you can do about it!
- Darling, please. All this screaming.

Get dressed now... and we'll clear out.

Mildred! Mildred! Mildred!

- Mildred!

Mildred! Let go!
Stop it! Mildred!

Mildred, let go!

- Mildred!

Mildred, leave her alone!

Mildred!

Mildred, stop it!
Stop this nonsense right now!

Mildred!

Mildred!

Came the dawn.

God, what a dawn.

Surprise!

Congratulations!

To the newlyweds!

Cheers to that!
Oh!

I know this was you.

Ma.

Oh, Mildred,
let's get that out of your hair.

I can't believe it!
I thought it seemed too quiet in here.

I never would have thought.

Look at you.
You look terrific.

- So you liked Reno? I hear it's something.
- Oh, we liked it. We liked it just fine.

It wasn't here, anyway,
that's the main thing.

Once the divorce came through,
and Bert arrived,

that's all I wanted.

We're sure glad to have you back.
You know, I couldn't find the server.

- Oh, I'll get it. I'll go.
- I'll come with you.

I mean...

... return home to
an empty house, could we?

- Pop. You said you were watering the lawn.
- I was.

- How's Laguna?
- Picking up.

Strange, though, working for Mildred Pierce
Incorporated without you, baby.

Oh.

- And the new boss?
- Ida?

I tell you, Mildred,
I give her hell.

But we're still standing.

- I thought she'd be here by now.
- Anyone else you're expecting?

Nope.

And if it's Veda you're hinting at,
I did try calling. Didn't hear back.

Well, I wouldn't have thought...

We did get a wonderful letter, though,
congratulating us.

And her voice is nearly healed,
she said, which is...

Well, that's a load off.

It would be if Pleasant cigarettes
hadn't cancelled her contract.

I meant for you.

Mildred?

Ida! I'm so pleased you came.

- Thank you, they're beautiful.
- Oh, Mildred,

- I just... I can't tell you how sorry I am.
- Ida...

You did what you had to do.

I just wish it could've gone
in a different way.

It's water under the bridge.

Well...

You know, Mildred,
Mr. Chris came in the other day.

I tell ya, he's just furious about
the quality of pies that he's been getting -

ever since we've been cutting back.

- Can't blame him.
- Ah.

So I told him what happened, you know?

I explained to him,
they ain't your pies no more.

And he says to me, "Why not?
She still got hands, doesn't she?"

Now, I know I shouldn't be drummin' up
more competition but...

There ya go!

Right?

Oh.

Bert? What is it?

It's, uh...

Veda's outside.

Ve... Veda?

Well, let her in.

She wants to talk out there.

But why?

I don't know.

Veda!

Come inside. There's food.

I can't, Mother. Hello, Father.

Veda.

But you've come all this way.

I'm actually on my way out.

I'm...
I'm flying to New York this afternoon.

New York?

Oh, we had no idea.

Well, we all know that LA is hopeless
for a classical singer, and...

now that my voice is better, uh,
New York is the only real option.

But I heard you two were back,
so I thought I'd stop by on my way.

So you're moving?

To New York?

That's the idea.

Alone?

No. Uh, Monty's there now.

Ah.

And you're...

I presume you have
some sort ofjob lined up?

As a matter of fact, I do. Um...

I've been speaking with Mr. Hobey, Father,
at Consolidated Foods, and...

he's been very patient,
very generous, and, uh...

I think everything's gonna work out just fine.

They do a fine job.
I've said so myself.

I'm very pleased with how it's all turned out.

How difficult it must have been...

playing your cards just so.

I have no idea what you mean, Mother.

Consolidated Foods.

What was it? 2500 a week?

Not to mention your ticket
out of here, once and for all.

From everything you hate and despise.

That's the idea, isn't it?

Now you're going to
make me miss my flight.

Goodbye, Father.

Then go. Go!

Was it even damaged, your voice? Was it?

Don't make a scene, Mother.

Go! Get out of my sight!

I don't need you, either!

Go to New York, for all I care!
And don't you ever come back!

Do you hear me? Never again!
I won't have it!

I won't have it!

Mildred.

Thought I might find you here.

Mildred?

What?

To hell with her.

I said, to hell with her.

All right, Bert.

To hell with her.

God damn it.

That's what I wanna hear.

Come on.

We've got each other.

Haven't we?

Let's get stinko.

Yes.

Let's get stinko.