A knock came on the apartment door. Rebecca ran to open it. To her delight, Max and Lily stepped inside.
“Room for two more?” Lily said, flashing Rebecca a smile and planting a kiss on her cheek.
“Of course!” Papa replied. “Shabbat is for family.”
As the family moved their chairs closer to make room for the latecomers and Mama bustled about adding extra plates, Max threw his arm around Rebecca’s shoulders. “I heard about the strike and your brave speech.” Then he whispered in Rebecca’s ear, “Those acting skills come in handy, don’t they?”
Rebecca nodded, her cheeks growing warm. When she’d written a letter to the newspaper weeks ago, complaining about conditions at the clothing factory where her uncle worked, she’d never dreamed she’d end up reading it aloud to a large group of protesting factory employees. She’d acted confident and used a brave voice, despite feeling scared. She’d mustered that same confidence today at the Victory, hoping it might lead to new opportunities. She wanted to tell Max all about Mr. Hammerstein and the acting job, but she knew this wasn’t the time.
The dinner table overflowed with Papa, Mama, Rebecca’s twin older sisters, her brothers, Bubbie and Grandpa, Ana’s family, and now Max and Lily. Rebecca lit the candles, Papa prayed a blessing, and then everyone sang “Shalom Aleichem,” a song about welcoming angels of peace into the home. Rebecca smiled. It was as if God had sent her angels in the form of Max and Lily. Who better to help make her case for acting roles at Hammerstein’s theater than two film stars?
Through dinner, Rebecca couldn’t stop picturing herself on the rooftop stage. When she could eat no more and could no longer concentrate on the dinner conversation, she jumped in. “Mama? Papa?”
“What is it, Rebecca?” Papa said. Suddenly everyone fell silent as they turned their eyes to her. Rebecca glanced at Ana, who gave her an encouraging nod.
Rebecca took a deep breath and pushed ahead. “Ana and I were measured for costumes today at the Victory Theater, where Michael works.”
“Costumes? Whatever for?” Mama said, eyeing Rebecca with curiosity.
“We’ve been offered supporting roles onstage,” Rebecca said. “We’re even going to be paid for our work!”
Mama’s gaze flickered over to Michael, who didn’t say a word, much to Rebecca’s relief.
Ana and I are at least as sure about receiving payment as Michael is, she reasoned. The term flimflam fluttered through her mind, and she willed it to fly on by before turning back to her parents and pressing on. “The only thing we need, of course, is your permission.”
She didn’t realize how much she had been holding inside until she exhaled loudly. There. She’d said it.
She glanced at Max, who winked at her, as if reminding her that some things were still secret—like the film she’d played a part in, which was yet to be released. He rested his hand on top of Lily’s.
Bubbie, her gray wig slightly askew, didn’t hide her feelings. “Those Ziegfeld Girls who dance in their underwear and stockings—is scandalous!”
“Bubbie,” Max said, “not all roles on Broadway or in film are scandalous. Besides, the Ziegfeld Follies are in a different theater across the street from the Victory. Beckie and Ana aren’t being asked to be in the Follies, right?” He looked to Rebecca.
Grateful for his help, she smiled. “No, a supporting role in…comedy acts, skits, maybe some singing—”
“Vaudeville.” Bubbie spat out the word.
Max leaned back in his chair. “There are respectable acts even in vaudeville. It’s not the same as performing in a Broadway musical or playing a part for the films, but it could be a start. A place to practice acting skills.”
Rebecca shot Cousin Max an appreciative grin, and then turned her gaze to Mama and Papa. “Mr. Oscar Hammerstein himself sent us to be measured for costumes. He told us we could start work tomorrow,” she said. “It would be such a shame if the seamstress did all that work for nothing.”
“Girls,” Uncle Jacob said. “You know the Sabbath is day of rest.”
Ana nodded and finally chimed in. “Yes, Papa,” she said, “but we need money. And Michael already is working so hard.”
Rebecca nodded. “Just until Uncle Jacob and Josef find jobs,” she chimed in. “Every dollar we make will go to help Ana and her family.”
Bubbie pondered this for a moment. “I don’t like you work on Sabbath. But Ana’s family in such hard time now.” She looked to Michael. “You can look out for girls there?”
Michael nodded. “Yes. The girls can come and go with me. I make sure that nothing bad happen.”
Rebecca’s hopes rose as Bubbie looked to Papa. Papa and Mama looked to Ana’s parents.
Things are turning in our favor, Rebecca thought as she and Ana shared a hopeful glance. The less I say, the better.
…
Pausing beneath the gilded lampposts outside the Victory the next morning, Rebecca gripped Ana’s hand. “Let’s stop for a minute,” she said. “For our first rehearsal, we want to look calm and confident, not rushed.”
“Take your time,” Michael said, walking ahead, “but I need to get to work.”
“If there’s an audition,” Rebecca mused, “I could do something funny like I did on Coney Island. Or I could recite the speech I made at the strike site—standing up for the fair treatment of workers.”
“Maybe I sing song from spring recital,” said Ana.
They met each other’s eyes and shared a grin.
“I still can’t believe we got permission to come back!” Rebecca said.
“If…” Ana reminded her.
Rebecca nodded. “Yes, if.”
There were a lot of ifs. Their parents had agreed that Rebecca and Ana could return to Hammerstein’s theater, but only if Michael agreed that the roles were respectable for young girls. And they could work only until Uncle Jacob and Josef found work—or until school started in two weeks.
Rebecca drew in a gulp of warm city air. “Let’s go.”
Then the girls walked through the doors and up the stairs to try on their new costumes.
“I worked all night,” Mrs. Rothstein said, removing two blue outfits from a rack. She pointed to two dressing rooms. “Try them on.”
A few moments later, the girls stepped out in identical white blouses with puffed short sleeves, lightweight blue overalls, and long cotton stockings. Rebecca curtsied to her reflection in the full-length mirror. “Our costumes are adorable!” she said. “Even Bubbie would approve. Nothing scandalous!”
Mrs. Rothstein handed them each a pair of knee-high rubber boots. “Not easy finding sizes for you, but here you are.”
Boots? Rebecca’s smile shrank the slightest bit. The tall black boots were not pretty, and certainly not good for dancing. But, she thought, perhaps the costume was for a comedy routine. Boots like that could be funny, at least, even if they weren’t glamorous.
She pulled on the boots. They fit perfectly.
Mrs.