“That's why I wanted you to go to Marlboro Hall.”

“I'll never go back there! I don't care what you want!”

Mama said be gentle.

“I could try to find another boarding school for you—”

“No!”

“If you won't go to boarding school, then you have to live with me, and my schedule—”

“I hate living with you. You're selfish. You think you're the most important person in the world. You sleep in the morning when I'm having breakfast—”

“I work late, Rose.”

“Nonna had breakfast with me every morning. She cooked it for me herself. She made all my favorite foods. She had applesauce cake for me when I came home from school, and she asked me how my day was, and she—”

“And she's dead.”

The bluntness of the words stopped her daughter cold. From behind her, Lu heard George's sharp intake of breath.

Sorry, Mama.

Rose was blinking her eyes as if she'd been slapped. Out in the hall the chorus kids were coming back to get ready for the evening performance. Lu had missed her nap.

“Sit down,” Lu said to her daughter. For a moment she thought Rose was going to cry. But the Gaspari pride held. Rose sat in the makeup chair.

“I'm sorry your nonna died,” Lu said. “I'm sorry for myself, and I'm sorry for her, but most of all, I'm sorry for you. Because you've lost the most. Now all you have is me. I'll do my best for you. I'll care for you, and I'll hire people to look after you when I'm working—which is most of the time. You'll never need anything. But I won't be making applesauce cake and lasagna. The woman who did that for you is gone.

“I will go on tour and leave you in New York, because if I don't, the tour won't happen. And the people who work on this show—there are more than two hundred of them—will be out of a job. And the people around the country who bought their tickets a year ago because they wanted to see me will be disappointed. And I do my best not to disappoint people.

“You say I'm selfish. You're right. If I have a performance and I get sick, half of the audience will go to the box office and demand their money back. If I don't do a good job, the show won't be good, the audiences will stop coming, and the show will close. And if my shows start closing, there won't be an apartment, not even one you hate, for you to live in. And you won't have to worry about going to a private school like Marlboro Hall, because I won't be able to pay for it.” Then she stopped herself.