'Goodbye Mrs. Story!' Frances shouted as the car pulled away, was flung back onto the seat. Frank Gumm kept smiling, looking in his rearview mirror, until Story was well behind them. The smile fell then. 'She'll be pleased enough when she sees you girls sing,' he murmured. He chewed the tip of his thumbnail.
He stuck out his arm to signal and turned onto Cedar Avenue. They passed the grammar school. Whenever he stopped grinning, Frank Gumm looked worried. 'The summer's almost over,' he told his girls. 'Janie, Jinny, you'll be starting school again here soon.'
'I won't,' said Baby Gumm.
'Ho-ho, no,' said Frank Gumm, darkly. 'No, your mother has other plans for you, Baby.'
'Where did Mama go today?' asked Janie.
Frank Gumm didn't answer. He didn't say anything else until the car slid to a stop outside their new house.
It was painted white, two-story, on the corner across from the school. Grandmother Milne was on the steps waiting for them.
'Now come along, Frances, your mother wants you straight upstairs to wash. Mary Jane and Virginia, help me please to set the table.' She said nothing to Frank. He helped Frances down from the car, and walked with her. She held on to his finger.
'I'll be downstairs, Baby,' he murmured to Frances. 'You run upstairs and have your bath and get all pretty for the show. Saturday night tonight.'
Grandmother Milne held the door open with one hand, and took charge of Frances with another. But Frances stood her ground, in the hallway, turning to her father.
'Afterward can I show you my ballet steps?' she asked.
Her father smiled his huge, too-wide grin. 'Sure, Baby. I'll be here,' he whispered.
'Come on then, Granny, let's get this over with,' said Frances with a theatrical sigh.
'Cute as a button,' grunted Grandmother Milne. 'Knows it too.'
Her daddy was left behind in the hall.
Upstairs, her mother was waiting. She knelt down in front of Frances to kiss her, as if coming back from Los Angeles were like returning from an even longer journey. 'Hiya, Baby,' she said, smelling of makeup and lipstick and perfume. She was slightly damp with the heat. Honest and sticky. 'Good picture?' Mama asked.
'Oh yes, it was about a man running around the skyscrapers.'
'Many people there?' Her mother's face was crossed with concern.
'No,' said Frances in a small voice.
'Well, early days yet,' said her mother, her voice wavering.
'There were two boys talking to Daddy, but they didn't look very nice.'
Mrs. Gumm went very still. 'Were there? What wasn't nice about them?'
'They looked funny,' said Frances, watching her mother. She had meant to cheer her up by telling her about people who had come to the show. 'He says they come every Saturday.'
'I bet they do,' said her mother. She started playing with her daughter's hair, rubbing it between her fingers. 'You're as dusty as a welcome mat,' she said, with a sudden wrench of emotion. 'Honestly, this place! You need a brush just to walk down the street.'
Then she kissed her daughter, hard, on the cheek, and stayed there, on her knees for a full moment. Then she pulled back. She was trying to be cheerful, but Frances could see that she wasn't. 'How about a bath?'
'Will it be cold?' Frances asked.
'Yes, Baby, nice and cold,' said her mother, and stood up.
Frances skipped toward the bathroom. The bathtub was already full, and Frances held her arms over her head, dancing to have the dusty little dress pulled off. There were two kinds of clothes: ordinary clothes, which usually had once been her sisters', and show clothes. Show clothes were nicer, but scratched more and were specially made.
The gray little dress was hoisted off. 'Janie and Jinny start school soon,' said Frances, under its momentary shelter.
'Yes, Baby. Seventh and fifth grade, if you can credit it.' Mrs. Gumm shook her head as she folded the dress. Frances shook her head too, at the unattainable heights of the seventh grade.
'How long before I'm in the seventh grade?' she asked. It was the summit of her ambition.
'Oh, years and years yet,' said Mrs. Gumm, leaning over and testing the bathwater with her plump hands.
'How old will I be then?'
'Oh, about thirteen.'
'And will I go to school just like Janie?'
'Maybe,' said Mrs. Gumm.
'Daddy says you've got some other plans for me.'
'Did he?' said Mrs. Gumm briskly and looked at her daughter.
'Yes,' said Frances, pleased,, because the plans meant that she was someone special. She tried to hug her
