The Showstopper. Mary Casanova

      “It’s about one of your customers.” Rebecca explained Ollie’s request that she deliver a glass of fresh milk to the neighboring theater during their lunch break each day.

      Mr. Hammerstein harrumphed. “That’s not what I am paying you for. Those Ziegfeld Girls are awfully high-minded, thinking they can get special deliveries on my dime. Absolutely not. Now go. And close the door behind you.”

      Rebecca’s shoulders sank. “But…” She scrambled to come up with another way to ask the question—a way that might lead to yes instead of no. A way that would allow her to salvage the one good thing she’d found in this awful new job. But nothing came to mind. Mr. Hammerstein doesn’t seem like the kind of person you can convince, Rebecca thought, not once his mind is made up. Crushed, she took Ana’s hand and turned to go. On the way out, she let the door slam harder than she meant to.

      “I guess I’ll have to find a way to tell Ollie,” Rebecca said as they started down the hall.

      “Girls!” Mr. Hammerstein bellowed from behind the closed door. “Come back!”

      “We are in trouble?” Ana asked, suddenly looking very worried.

      “I don’t know,” Rebecca said. She turned the doorknob and stepped back in, bracing herself for a scolding.

      Mr. Hammerstein was leaning forward on his desk, a freshly lit cigar between his fingers. “New thought,” he said. “A unique opportunity. It’s always good to keep an eye on the competition.” He flicked a bit of ash into a gold-embossed glass ashtray. “My biggest competition is Ziggy Ziegfeld and his blasted New Amsterdam Theater. No matter what I do, he’s always trying to one-up me. So, I tell you what. I’ll let you make your deliveries to Miss Berry if you—and I mean both of you—fill me in on what’s going on over there.”

      “Both of us?” Ana asked. “But Miss Berry did not say—”

      “I need as many eyes and ears on that place as possible,” Mr. Hammerstein cut in. “I want to know who’s onstage, what’s being practiced. I want to know what acts are coming before the public knows.”

      “You want us to spy,” Ana said, crossing her arms over her chest. “In Russia there were spies.”

      Rebecca stepped on the toe of Ana’s boot. Was she trying to ruin everything?

      “I wouldn’t use that word,” Mr. Hammerstein said, taking a puff on his cigar. A cloud of smoke drifted in front of his face. “This is Broadway! I’m simply asking you to be my eyes and ears. Use some acting skills!”

      Rebecca liked the word acting much better than spying.

      “One more thought,” Mr. Hammerstein continued, leaning across the desk toward them. “I can fill your jobs—as well as a certain set painter’s position—at any hour of any day. In this city, there’s always someone looking for work.”

      The girls looked at each other, sharing the same thought: He’d backed them into a corner. He was threatening their jobs—and Michael’s—if they didn’t agree. With Uncle Jacob and Cousin Josef suddenly out of work, Rebecca knew that Michael’s job was critical to Ana’s family.

      Still, Rebecca allowed herself to smile. Mr. Hammerstein may have given them no choice—but he’d also given his approval. Tomorrow they would visit the famous Olivia Berry at the New Amsterdam Theater, and Rebecca couldn’t be more excited. “You can rely on us, sir,” she said.

      “Good,” he said. “I’ll let Flora know that I have given permission for both of you to assist Miss Berry. I want you to take a full half hour every day for your delivery. Of course, that means you’ll have to work extra hard to get your work done at the farm.”

      “A half hour?” It was even more than Rebecca had hoped for. “What if we get kicked out of the theater?”

      “Act like you belong,” he said, “and everyone will assume you do.” Then he waved them out the door.

      …

      The subway train bounced along, careening around corners and squeaking at each stop. Smelling of the turpentine he’d used to clean paintbrushes, Michael sat by himself. The girls huddled together, going over their day.

      “I can’t wait to find out more about the ethereal Olivia Berry,” Rebecca said. “I mean, she’s the biggest rising star in all of New York City, and yet she’s friendly to us.”

      “To you,” Ana corrected her.

      Is Ana envious? Rebecca wondered. Remembering how it had stung to feel left out by Flora and Ana earlier in the day, Rebecca tried to smooth things over. “Won’t it be fun for us to see what the Follies are all about?” she asked. “Mr. Hammerstein didn’t have to ask me to keep my eyes and ears open. I would anyway!”

      “Mr. Hammerstein wants us to spy. Nothing good comes of spying,” Ana said, gazing out the window at the dark subway walls as they flew past. “We must tell parents.”