The Showstopper. Mary Casanova

broke off a small chunk of bread. “You’re so lucky to work here!” she said.

      “Not as lucky as Mr. O’Hara.” Michael held up his hand, fingers splayed. “He start here just five months ago. He work hard, and already is boss, called ‘head set painter.’ In America, you can be anything!” He grinned and took a bite of sausage.

      “Take your time eating, Michael,” Rebecca said, enraptured by it all. “I want to stay here as long as possible.” She ventured closer to the railing at the edge of the rooftop and risked a glance toward the street, but it was such a long way down that it made her insides spin, and she looked away. Just as she sat down again, the nearby elevator doors opened.

      A tall, square-shouldered man stepped out. Despite the heat, he wore a black vest, black coat with tails, and a towering top hat. He strode down the theater aisle and talked with the acrobat troupe onstage.

      “That is Mr. Oscar Hammerstein,” Michael said. “He owns whole building and runs the theater. He hired me.”

      Soon Mr. Hammerstein was headed in their direction, squinting curiously at Rebecca and Ana. “Girls, where are your parents?”

      Michael jumped up and wiped his hands on his paint-splattered overalls. “Sorry, Mr. Hammerstein,” he said. “I forget lunch, and my sister and cousin, they bring to me.”

      Mr. Hammerstein crossed his arms and studied the girls. Though his stare made Rebecca squirm, she held her head high and smiled back. This man owns the whole theater! she thought. This could be one of those unexpected opportunities.

       “You,” he said to Rebecca finally. “You would be perfect for a supporting role here on the rooftop.”

      “Really?” Rebecca held her breath. A thrill of anticipation bubbled up inside her.

      Mr. Hammerstein looked to Ana. “Both of you. In fact, you can start tomorrow morning. Mind you, payday doesn’t come until the end of the week.”

      “But tomorrow’s the Sabbath,” Ana said. “We’re Jewish.”

      Rebecca shot her cousin a silencing stare. Yes, Saturdays were traditionally the day of rest for Jewish families. But things in America were different from Russia, where her cousins used to live, and this looked like a huge opportunity. Why ruin it before they even knew what it was?

      Mr. Hammerstein harrumphed. “Well I’m Jewish, too, but that’s never stopped me from conducting business. I say treat every day like it’s the opening night of the performance.”

      Rebecca nodded. “My father keeps our shoe shop open on Saturdays. I’ve worked many times with him when he’s needed help.”

      Mr. Hammerstein nodded. “See? Good Jewish girls can certainly work on the Sabbath.”

      “I’m sure my parents will let us come back tomorrow,” Rebecca declared. In truth, she wasn’t at all sure her parents—or Ana’s—would allow them to play parts on a vaudeville stage. Still, she thought, if you don’t act confident, you don’t get the part.

      “Then you must get measured for costumes before you leave,” Mr. Hammerstein insisted. “You’ll find our seamstress, Mrs. Rothstein, on the third floor.”

      “See you in the morning!” Rebecca said as Mr. Hammerstein turned and walked away.

      “Rebecca!” Ana frowned. “I know you want to be actress. And I want job, too, to help my family. But you should not promise. We must ask parents first!”

      Rebecca met her eyes. “Don’t worry, Ana. It can’t hurt to act hopeful.”

      …

       “Watch for rats,” Ana warned as they entered the stairwell again.

      Rebecca shuddered, and they hurried down two flights to the costume shop on the third floor. Squeezing between racks of dresses covered in ruffles, lace, and sequins, the girls made their way to the fitting area. They passed a cutting table laden with bolts of sheer cloth and silky ribbon, and Rebecca couldn’t help running her fingers along the satiny fabrics. The costumes were as colorful as candy, she thought, and a hundred times more beautiful.

      They found tiny Mrs. Rothstein in the center of it all, stitching the sleeves of a feathery jacket.

      Rebecca greeted her. “Mr. Hammerstein said that he had supporting roles for us,” she explained proudly.

      “Sit,” Mrs. Rothstein said, speaking around the pins she held between her lips. “You girls are not so important. I have other acts that come before you.”

      Rebecca and Ana shared an amused look and sat down on a velvet couch in the corner. At last, the tiny woman set down the jacket and eyed the cousins from head to toe. Then she draped each girl with fabric and set about measuring and marking at expert speed. “Yes, good. Very good,” she said as she worked, her hands and body in constant motion. “Stand straight,” she told Rebecca, who was practically vibrating with excitement. “There. Good. Done.”

      By the time Rebecca and Ana reached the lobby, Michael was waiting for them. Once the three of them were on the subway, Rebecca plopped on a seat beside Michael and Ana and sighed happily.

      “I can’t believe this!” she said. “What do you suppose we’ll do onstage? Ana and I performed at the school assembly, so we’ve had practice singing, but perhaps we’ll have to learn to dance.” Rebecca paused for a moment. “Maybe we’ll need to audition so they can decide which roles we get.”

      “If Hammerstein wants you in show,” Michael said with admiration, “he make it happen like Houdini. But convincing our parents not so easy.”

      Rebecca turned to Ana. “We’ll talk to them during dinner tonight,” she declared. “But how will we persuade them?”

      “We tell first about payment,” Ana suggested.

      Rebecca nodded. “Good thinking. Keep it practical. Jobs and money.”

      Michael lifted his forefinger in warning. “You girls be careful. Mr. Hammerstein, he not so honest, I am told.”

      “Oh?” Rebecca said, not eager to hear anything that might dampen her hopes.

      “I hear he fill whole Victory building with stolen goods. When big passenger ship stuck in harbor, Mr. Hammerstein, he find out and steal every rug, every furniture from ship for his theaters. What they call this, funny word…flimflammery?”

       “Flimflum-what?” Ana asked.

      “Flimflam. A kind of trick, I think,” Rebecca replied.

      “It’s like this,” Michael said. He pulled a penny from the pocket of his overalls and held it up. “Let’s say you give me penny.” He closed his fist around the coin, made a rolling motion with his hands, and opened his fist again. The penny was gone! He opened his other hand, and there it was.

      The girls laughed.

      “If I make your penny disappear and give it back to you, what you call that?” he asked.

      “Magic trick,” Ana said, beaming.

      Michael did the trick again. This time, both palms were empty. “But if I make your coin disappear and you never see it again, what you call that?”

      “Cheat,” Ana answered.

      “Swindle,” Rebecca said. “Flimflam.”

      Michael nodded. He reached into his pocket, pulled out the missing penny, and held it up. “I think Mr. Hammerstein like to keep other people’s money in his pocket. Believe me, I’m happy for job. But I feel better when he pay me the money.”

      Rebecca crossed her arms and whispered. “Michael, would you mind not saying anything about flimflams to our parents? This could still be a great chance for Ana and me to get onstage.”

      “Sure,”