IT HAD TAKEN Rose a while to believe in the new Bobby, who spent his weekends with his wife and his baby, who now worked at home instead of going to his office near Shubert Alley. This last change was a huge one for a man whose previous routine had been carved in stone. Once Bobby's latest show had opened and he wasn't needed in the theater anymore, he'd go back to his office. He'd show up every morning at nine and stay until six. “Even if I'm dry as a bone and I haven't got an idea in my head,” he said once, “I can't sit home waiting for the muse to hit. I'm like a plumber. I've got to go to the job.”

But now Bobby said he didn't have to go to the office. Because he said the muse had hit him, and it had happened at home. His new show, the one that had been inspired by “Carrie's Moon Song,” was going to be called Family.

“It's going to blow everyone away,” he told Rose. He was pacing with excitement, the baby in his arms. Sometimes it seemed to Rose that he carried the little girl everywhere.

“Bobby, maybe you could take a little time off before you start the new show. Spend more time with Carrie. Think about the future a little,” Rose said tentatively.

He looked at her like she'd just suggested he spit on God. “My future is what it's always been. I'm in show business.”

“But you can't keep up this kind of pace forever. Maybe you could try writing a novel, or …”

“I work on Broadway. End of story.” And Rose knew if she pushed, she'd get nowhere.

“Well then, tell me about Family,” she said quickly.

“It's going to scare the shit—excuse me, Princess,” he added to Carrie. “It's going to scare the life out of the money people. I may have to back this one myself.”

But of course there was no danger of that. In twelve years Bobby had had six Broadway hits and no misses; investors lined up to put their money in a Bobby Manning musical.

Still, the new offering was going to be risky. There was no chorus, no big Broadway orchestra, no turntables or huge sets or elaborate costumes, and no love story—at least, not in the conventional sense. There would just be three actresses on the bare stage backed by a five-piece band. They would play a mother, a daughter, and a grandmother.

“Carrie is going to help me write it,” announced the besotted Bobby. He put Carrie's playpen near the piano while he was working, and he even stopped in the middle of the day and took her to the park with her nanny, Sandy.

Rose hadn't wanted to hire a nanny at first, but Bobby insisted that she needed one. She had spent weeks interviewing candidates and was about to give up the search when Bobby stepped in.