RIDE A RAINBOW
My big surprise came in the last box under the Christmas tree. It was from Mr. Greer and inside was a string of beautiful beads. Meiling saw me stare at them and inspected the necklace, her eyes wide as she fingered each "bead." "They're real!" she whispered,"They're real pearls!"
"Fiddlesticks! He wouldn't give me real pearls."
"I can tell," Meiling insisted. "They aren't fake. A customer at our laundry taught me how to tell."
"But Mr. Greer?" I said, dumbfounded.
Tony grinned. "Maybe he likes you."
"Ha! He likes to give me orders ... 'Jan, do this, Jan do that.'"
"He's grateful," Meiling told me. "In his own way."
"I doubt it. He's always grumpy." I looked up to see him in his old-fashioned tux, slowly making his way toward us. His shoulders stooped more than usual, as if the weight of his many years was especially heavy tonight. I stepped toward him and said, "Thank you very much for the pearls, Mr. Greer. They are lovely and I'll treasure them."
"The necklace was my mother's, then my wife's. Would have been my daughter's if she had lived," he said gruffly. "Now it's yours. See you take good care of it."
"Oh, I will," I assured him and he walked away. "He's lonely," I said, feeling sad.
Meiling nodded. "He misses those good old days when he was the boss of this hotel."
I watched the happy faces around me as I adjusted the pearls around my neck. Now, I felt so...mature. Was it only a year ago when my fondest wish was for a cowboy outfit?
Then, all of a sudden, I didn't feel mature. Mom and Dad stood by the doorway and watched me. She smiled up at him and touched his hand. He smiled down at her and his fingers squeezed back. How did it feel to have somebody look at you that way? And how did Mom feel when she looked that way at Dad?
Well, I'd wonder about that later because Mr. Mangolo was striding toward me with a determined look on his face. "You act so natural when people are watching, Jan ... Will you fill in for my wife at the Bijou tonight?"
What was that all about? I wondered. I knew his vaudeville troupe was staying at our hotel and had come to our Christmas Eve buffet--except for Mrs. Mangolo who had a touch of stomach flu. Mr. Mangolo had explained about that and said he was sure she would be okay by tomorrow.
"Our emergency plan works fine in big cities," he went on. "I just ask for a volunteer from the audience to join me on stage. But I can't put on a really good act unless she's pretty and personable, and since attendance at smaller cities like this has fallen so much I'll likely have to sing to a dog. And that's really, really hard."
"I'd like to see that," I said with a grin.
"Will you help me, Jan? Come to the Bijou and be my volunteer? Smile and look pretty in your pink party dress? Mug while I sing love songs to you? Your mother can chaperone, of course."
Well, why not? Except Mom would be needed here at the hotel. But how about Lorraine? Carl had to work so she'd be free. I knew Mom would say okay if Lorraine would chaperone.
Lorraine was glad to be invited and after we checked that Mrs. Mangolo was sleeping quietly, it was off to the Bijou to be a vaudevillian. I was nervous at first, but then it was great fun--I sneered when Mr. Mangolo pretended to be heartbroken, fingered my pearls and looked indifferent and snooty when he cajoled, and pretended to cry when he threatened to leave me for another woman.
The audience stood and laughed and applauded and I felt great--till I saw Angelface in the third row. He shook his fist at me and shouted something I couldn't hear above the clapping. But his mouth formed the words "I'll get you tomorrow."
On the way back to the hotel, I didn't mention Angelface. Lorraine said she would write up tonight's show for the newspaper and Mr. Mangolo told me my mugging was great and he'd never got more applause, even from a large city audience. "I'm really sorry we won't be coming back next year."
"Why ever not?" Lorraine asked.
"Small burgs like this don't draw big crowds anymore, so it just doesn't pay. Too many people drive to see the big shows in the cities, or relax at home and listen to their radios."
"Or go to movies," I suggested.
"Yeah," Mr. Mangolo agreed. "All that has played hob with my livelihood. And I don't know what I will do when someone figures out how to make color movies practical. That will be the end of vaudeville."
Movies in color! Great! But sad for Mr. Mangolo.
"No more depressing thoughts on this happy night," Mr. Mangolo said brightly. From his overcoat pocket he pulled four tickets for tomorrow's show and gave two to Lorraine and two to me. "Thanks for helping."
At first, I thought I'd take Meiling to tomorrow's show and we'd see how Mrs. Mangolo played "my" part. But then I thought if any two people deserved a break it was Mom and Dad. So when we got home I would put my tickets in an envelope and borrow Bobby's red crayon to draw a Santa Claus on the front. Then we'd use a green crayon to draw an elf and put the envelope on Mom's pillow as a Christmas surprise from the two of us.
As we reached the hotel, Angelface's car parked down the block ahead of us. Had he been waiting for me and lost his nerve when he saw I wasn't alone? He'd already almost run me down once. What was he planning for tomorrow?
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