“I finished the musical on time—like the lady told me to,” he said.

“Nothing is worth making yourself sick.”

He turned away from her. “Yeah,” he said. “This is.” He opened his battered suitcase and pulled out his manuscript—he'd had it bound in one of the fake leather covers that were always used for Broadway scripts. It was such a hopeful, childlike thing to do.

“You look half dead,” she scolded.

“You don't screw around with the chance of a lifetime.”

Rose read the entire script that afternoon. By night, she knew Bobby wasn't the only one to whom she'd given the chance of a lifetime—she'd just done the same thing for her mother. As soon as she finished reading, she walked into her mother's bedroom and thrust the script at Lu, who was sitting up in bed, absently flipping through the pages of a novel.

“Take a look at this,” Rose said.

Her mother looked at the author's name on the front cover. “Your friend Bobby wrote this?” she asked.

“It's your new show,” Rose said. “You can thank me later.”

But Lu wasn't picking up the manuscript.

“I know what you're thinking,” Rose said. “You've read so many turkeys and you don't want to have to tell me that this is another one. It's not. Believe me.”

“You're very involved with Bobby Manning,” Lu said. “That can cloud anyone's judgment.”

“Not mine. I've been around your business long enough to know when a show is good and when it's not.” Then Rose gave her mother a big grin. “You can trust me. I'm the girl who made you dress like Jackie Kennedy, remember? Look how well that turned out.”

And so, reluctantly, Lu opened Bobby's manuscript and started to read. Rose stayed in the room and tried not to pace, chew her nails, or scream at Lu to read faster. Because there was always a horrible chance that her mother might not like the show, even though it was perfect for her. And Rose didn't know what she'd do then—or what she'd say to Bobby. She tried not to think that her life was hanging in the balance, but it was.

“Have you heard the music?” Lu's voice broke into Rose's bad dream.

“Bobby's going to play it for me tomorrow at Hershemer's. A friend of his is opening the store a half hour early. You can come with me.”

“Uh-huh,” said her mother, who had gone back to reading. Unable to stand the suspense, Rose fled to her own room.

*   *   *

THE NEXT MORNING when Rose woke up, Lu was already dressed and in the kitchen, making herself a cup of coffee. “Have Mr. Manning come here to the apartment this morning to play the score for George and me,” she said. As Rose raced for the phone, she added, “And Rose? Thank you.”

Chapter 25 - New York 2008