Bobby was staring at her, waiting for her verdict. He looked so desperate that for a moment Rose hesitated. She gazed out the big bay window at Fifth Avenue. It was still partially light outside, and the workers who had stayed late at the office or to do a last-minute errand were still running for buses and hailing taxicabs. It would be another hour or two before the glamorous people would take over the city with their limousines, their evening gowns and tuxes. Bobby wanted to be one of the glamorous people. And if she wanted to win him she was going to have to see to it that he got what he wanted. She had to tell him the truth.

“You've written the wrong show,” she said.

Bobby went on the defensive immediately. “What does that mean?”

“You've got the whole formula—sweet love story, breezy patter, plenty of spots for Mother to do her shtick, and she can belt those songs to the back of the house without ripping up her vocal cords. It's a terrific Lu Lawson musical.”

“Then what the hell are you saying?”

“It's exactly like all the other musicals her agent has sent to her—I think there've been thirteen so far—and she's turned all of them down.”

“That doesn't mean she'll turn down this one.”

He was furious, and so, so disappointed. He hated her right now, and for a second she was scared.

I'll die if I lose him.

But she'd never win him if she didn't tell him the truth.

“Yes, it does,” Rose said. “She'll turn it down cold.”

“How do you know? When did you get to be an expert on theater?”

“I'm not. I'm an expert on Lu Lawson.”

She told him about Lu redecorating the house and redoing her wardrobe. And she could see that she was getting through to him. Bobby waited until she finished, and then it was his turn to look out the bay window. When he turned back, he had swallowed his disappointment and was all business.

“You're saying Lu Lawson …your mother … wants to shake things up,” he said.

Rose nodded. “She's been playing that same cute little clown for ten years, and it isn't her anymore. I don't think it ever was, but for a long time she made it work.”

He thought for a moment. “What does she want now?”

“I'll tell you, but first you and I are going to have dinner. My treat, and don't give me any lip about the money. I'm going to buy you a porterhouse steak, because you're going to need it.”

Bobby looked like he was about to balk, but then he smiled his big, boyish smile that showed up only when they were having cheesecake at Lindy's or Jack Dempsey's. “Okay, boss,” he said. “Just let me turn off the lights.”

So far so good, Rose thought.