looked uncertain. Frances thought she would pep her up.
“Howdy, Mrs. Story. I like your hat!” In fact she did. It was a nice felt cloche like Mom wore.
“Frances,” murmured Janie, embarrassed.
“Well, thank you, honey,” said Mrs. Story.
“It’s a good, clean family show, Mrs. Story,” smiled Frank. “And it’s the coolest spot in the valley. When it’s one hundred degrees out here, it’s seventy inside my movie house.”
“Well, it is hot, Mr. Gumm, I won’t deny.”
“Now you just do me a favor and take two of these, Mrs. Story. Good for any night of the week, just come and visit and take in the show when there’s something on you want to see.”
The tickets were held out.
“Well . . .” Mrs. Story took them. “Thank you very much, Mr. Gumm.”
“Terrible name, isn’t it? Frank Gumm. Just remember. Honest and sticky.”
“Daddy, don’t say that,” said Janie, wincing.
“I’m sure I will remember, Mr. Gumm,” said Mrs. Story, looking at the tickets.
“And say hello to Mrs. Abbot for me.”
“Will do. Thank you for the tickets.”
“Goodbye Mrs. Story!” Frances shouted as the car pulled away, and was flung back into the seat.
Frank Gumm kept smiling, looking in his rearview mirror, until Mrs. Story was well behind them. The smile fell then. “She’ll be pleased enough when she sees you girls sing,” he murmured. He chewed the tip of his thumbnail.
He stuck out his arm to signal and turned onto Cedar Avenue. They passed the grammar school. Whenever he stopped grinning, Frank Gumm looked worried. “The summer’s almost over,” he told his girls. “Janie, Jinny, you’ll be starting school again here soon.”
“I won’t,” said Baby Gumm.
“Ho-ho, no,” said Frank Gumm, darkly. “No, your mother has other plans for you, Baby.”
“Where did Mama go today?” asked Janie.
Frank Gumm didn’t answer. He didn’t say anything else until the car slid to a stop outside their new house.
It was painted white, two-story, on the corner across from the school. Grandmother Milne was on the steps waiting for them.
“Now come along, Frances, your mother wants you straight upstairs to wash. Mary Jane and Virginia, help me please to set the table.” She said nothing to Frank. He helped Frances down from the car, and walked with her. She held on to his finger.
“I’ll be downstairs, Baby,” he murmured to Frances. “You run upstairs and have your bath and get all pretty for the show. Saturday night tonight.”
Grandmother Milne held the door open with one hand, and took charge of Frances with another. But Frances stood her ground, in the hallway, turning to her father.
“Afterward can I show you my ballet steps?” she asked.
Her father smiled his huge, too-wide grin.
“Sure, Baby. I’ll be here,” he whispered.
“Come on then, Granny, let’s get this over with,” said Frances with a theatrical sigh.
“Cute as a button,” grunted Grandmother Milne. “Knows it too.”
Her daddy was left behind in the hall.
Upstairs, her mother was waiting. She knelt down in front of Frances to kiss her, as if coming back from Los Angeles were like returning from an even longer journey. “Hiya, Baby,” she said, smelling of makeup and lipstick and perfume. She was slightly damp with the heat. Honest and sticky. “Good picture?” Mama asked.
“Oh yes, it was about a man running around the skyscrapers.”
“Many people there?” Her mother’s face was crossed with concern.
“No,” said Frances in a small voice.
“Well, early days yet,” said her mother, her voice wavering.
“There were two boys talking to Daddy, but they didn’t look very nice.”
Mrs. Gumm went very still. “Were there? What wasn’t nice about them?”
“They looked funny,” said Frances, watching her mother. She had meant to cheer her up by telling her about people who had come to the show. “He says they come every Saturday.”
“I bet they do,” said her mother. She
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