“You were amazing,” he says next to my ear.
Which just about makes me fall right off the stage.
We bow four times because people just keep clapping. On the first bow, I spot Ava, Stephanie, and Hilary standing with their families. They’re not clapping, but they don’t look like they plan to storm the stage and drag us off by our hair. On the second bow, I see Mr. Fox cheering and whistling. On the third bow, I see Miss Anita talking with a man wearing a three-piece linen suit and scribbling in a fat notebook. She catches me looking at her, and she actually smiles. She pats the man’s arm and motions to me. He smiles too, then makes a Y with one hand and mouths for me to call him.
Luis Lobo. The talent agent.
On the fourth bow, I spot Momma and Nana Dottie. They’re both laughing and crying as they share a pack of tissues and blow me kisses. I see Oscar, too. He’s standing next to Nana Dottie, and he winks and gives me a thumbs-up.
And then I spot one more person, and I almost fall off the stage a second time.
Gabby. She’s standing next to Momma, grinning and taking my picture with the best present I’ve ever gotten.
Until now, anyway.
21.
“Did you go swimming? And walk on the beach? And hug a palm tree? And eat cheesy chicken burritos, just because you can?”
“Not today.” I smile at the wistfulness in Gabby’s voice. She and Momma had worked together to surprise me with a visit, and though she was here for only three days, just long enough to see Citrus Star and take a quick tour of Coconut Grove, that was all the time she needed to fall in love with the place. “But we’ll definitely do all those things and more when you come back during Christmas break.”
“I can’t wait! I’ve been crossing off the days on the Miami calendar I bought at the airport.” She pauses, and I hear her flipping through pages. “Which, by the way, could really use a few pictures taken by famed local photographer Ruby Lee.”
“Speaking of pictures, did you get the ones I sent this morning?”
“Of your mom and grandma playing Twister?” She giggles. “Yes. Those positions did not look comfortable.”
“Nana Dottie’s tough. Momma spent the night with three ice packs and a heating pad.”
Nana Dottie winks as she walks by with a picnic basket and folded blanket.
“Anyway, we’re about to leave so I should get going.” I stand up from the couch. “I just wanted to say hi on Momma’s brand-new cell phone.”
“Oh my goodness, if you’d told me three months ago that your mom would own a phone that wasn’t attached to a wall, I would’ve asked if the moon was made of green cheese, too.”
I watch Momma type something into the computer. “At this rate, it probably is.”
We promise to e-mail with updates tomorrow and hang up.
“Sweetie, come look at this!”
I hurry across the living room and stand behind Momma. She and Oscar are sitting at the desk with my laptop open in front of them. “Is that you?” I ask, peering over her shoulder.
“Can you believe it?” She shakes her head and laughs. “I’m on the Internet. For the whole world to see. Right this minute, someone in Paris or London or Tokyo might be looking at me. Me. Little Francine Lee!”
“If they’re not right this minute, they will be soon,” Oscar says. “It won’t take long for Purls of the Grove to become an international sensation.”
Momma looks at him. “I’ve only gotten ten orders.”
“From one store,” Oscar says pointedly.
“That wants to sell each tote bag for three hundred dollars,” I remind her. “And that’s already sold six of the ten based on the display sample you sent.”
She shrugs and looks at the screen again. “Who knew that when EcoChic turned me down for a job, they’d eventually give me a new career? Doing what I love to do more than anything—besides hanging out with my favorite girl, of course.”
“Everything happens for a reason,” I say. This is another of her favorite mottos and has never seemed truer. Only a few weeks after being turned down by EcoChic, Momma got a call from Clementine, the store’s owner. Apparently, Clementine loved the white knitted tote bag Momma carried that day so much, she wanted to sell it—and others like it—in her store. That vote of confidence was just what Momma needed, and it even inspired her to start her own business.
“So the website’s done for now.” Oscar clicks the mouse to show each feature. “People can browse products, place orders, and contact you directly via an online form. When you’re ready, I’ll show you how to update it yourself.”
“And you’ll also show me everything else, right? The spreadsheets and accounting and numbers stuff?” Momma sounds excited but nervous. This is completely understandable, considering that she lost her job at Nana Dottie’s country club because she didn’t know her way around the computer.
“Absolutely.” Oscar releases the mouse to squeeze her hand.
“And I can teach you e-mail,” I offer. “I’ve gotten pretty good at it. I can even send attachments.”
“You’ve both come a very long way.”
We turn to see Nana Dottie standing in the living room doorway, car keys in hand.
“And I couldn’t be prouder,” she continues. “But it’s time to go. You know I hate to be late.”
Nana Dottie’s definitely mellowed in recent weeks, but there are a few issues she still takes very seriously. Punctuality is one of them. Normally, her announcement of hating to be late would make Momma check her watch and pretend to be panicked, which would make me try not to laugh. But I’m not laughing now. I don’t want to be late to where we’re going either.
I grab my backpack from the couch and hurry after Nana Dottie. Momma and Oscar follow behind me, talking about websites, spreadsheets, and how he’ll give her a thorough lesson after their dinner date tomorrow night. I’m tempted to turn around and take their picture, but I’m more reluctant to slow down. Plus, something tells me there will be many more photo opportunities with those two.
“Do you want me to drive, Mom?” Momma asks when we reach the garage. Nana Dottie’s mellowed so much she’s been letting Momma use the Jaguar until Momma saves enough to buy us a new car.
“I thought we’d take the convertible,” Nana Dottie says, already popping the trunk.
Momma and I exchange surprised looks. The convertible’s been locked in the garage since it left the shop with a new front bumper two weeks ago. Nana Dottie seemed pretty upset that the car was no longer exactly the same as it was when Papa Harry last used it, so we assumed it’d be a long, long time before she drove it again. If she drove it again.
“Shotgun!” Momma declares suddenly.
“The last time she said that we ended up in a ditch,” I warn Oscar as Momma runs to the convertible.
“All in the past, Ruby Lee! And the past is a long time ago.”
I think about this as we get in the car and start driving. The past does seem like a long time ago. It’s hard to believe that it’s only been three months since we packed up everything we owned, said good-bye to our family and friends, and left the only home we’d ever known. It feels like entire years have passed since we pulled up to Nana Dottie’s house for the first time, signed me up for school, and went computer shopping. Even everything that happened once I started school—circling the cafeteria at lunch, being teased by Ava Grand, hiding my lunch box, doing whatever I could to fit in—seems like it was an eternity ago. Some of the details have even grown fuzzy, just like they do as more and more time goes by.
Thank goodness I took so many pictures along the way. None of it was easy, but it also got us to this point. For that, I’ll always want to remember.
“Is that rain?” Momma shoots up in the passenger seat and inspects a smattering of droplets on the windshield. “Do you think it’ll be canceled?”
“It’s just a little shower,” Oscar says. “I bet it clears up before we get there.”
He�
�s right. By the time we pull into Coconut Grove Square five minutes later, the rain has lightened to mist.
“Aren’t you going to put the top down?” Momma asks Nana Dottie once we’ve parked.
“It’s still damp, Francine.”
“Yes . . . but it’s a drive-in. How will Ruby and Oscar see the screen?”
“We’ll just roll down our windows and stick our heads out.” I demonstrate. It’s not ideal, but it does the job.
“This is ridiculous,” a familiar voice says.
I pull my head in when Ava Grand stomps by. Stephanie and Hilary hurry to keep up. They’re wearing their usual uniform of pastel sundresses and shiny metallic sandals. Seeing them makes me think of my gold sandals, which I haven’t worn since the day I found out Miss Anita had made me the lead in Constellation. It’s not that I don’t like them or even that they bring back bad memories . . . it’s just that my red Converse are so much more comfortable.
“I mean, a drive-in?” Ava huffs. “With a black-and-white movie? What kind of small-town, old-fashioned, boring hick event is this? Who planned it? Why are we here?”
“I actually think it might be fun,” I hear Stephanie whisper to Hilary as they pass our car.
“You’d think she’d be happier after winning Citrus Star,” Momma says, noticing them. “Isn’t that what she wanted?”
“I guess it wasn’t enough,” I say. “She’s still mad that Constellation didn’t close the show. And she’s really mad that Luis Lobo is interested in working with Sam, Megan, and me, even though we came in second place.”
“I’m still amazed that you pulled that off in such a short time,” Nana Dottie says.
“Me too. But it’s a good thing we landed in that ditch. Opening my eyes to all the pictures I’d been taking and had just developed gave me the initial idea, and then Megan and Sam worked really, really hard to make it happen.”
“Well, it sounds like a small-town, old-fashioned, boring hick event is exactly what Miss Sore Winner needs,” Oscar says. “Maybe it’ll help bring her back down to earth. Popcorn, anyone?”
“Extra butter, please!” Momma calls after him as he slides out of the car and starts toward the snack stand.
“A drive-in does seem more Curly Creek than Coconut Grove,” I say, resting my chin on the top of the front seat.
“And what are the chances that they’d show this movie of all movies?” Momma turns slightly to kiss my cheek.
Nana Dottie brushes an imaginary speck of dirt from the dashboard. “Sometimes it doesn’t hurt to use your connections,” she says casually.
My mouth falls open. “You did this?” I look around. The park is packed. People are sitting in their cars, relaxing in lawn chairs near their cars, and lounging on picnic blankets in the grass. If not for the palm trees, the same scene could be found in Curly Creek.
“Momma,” Momma says softly, which makes me smile. I’ve never heard her call Nana Dottie that before. “It was very nice of you to do this for us.”
“I didn’t do it just for you.” She looks at me, then at Momma. “I did it for me, too.”
“It’s starting!” I squeal as the screen lights up. “I’ve seen The Wizard of Oz a million times, but never like this.”
“Come up front,” Momma says, patting the spot between her and Nana Dottie. “You need to get the full effect.”
I scramble across the backseat and throw the door open.
“Ruby!”
I look up to see Megan waving from a nearby patch of grass. She’s with her parents and two other girls I recognize from school.
“We have plenty of room!” she calls out. “Want to join?”
“Maybe after the movie?” I call back.
She gives me a quick thumbs-up and flops down on their blanket. I’m just about to open Momma’s door when I feel a light tap on my shoulder.
“Hey, you.”
“Sam.” My smile grows as wide as the movie screen behind me. “Hi.”
“Hey.” He looks down at his sneakers, then back up at me. “You look nice.”
Now I look down. I don’t think I look any different than usual in my jeans, yellow South Beach shirt, and Converse . . . but if he thinks the combined effect works, I’m glad. “Thanks. So do you.” It’s true. I’ve been noticing more and more lately how cute Sam is. The fact that he’s nice, smart, and talented only makes him even cuter. “Are you here with your parents?”
He nods. I think he’s going to say something else, but instead he slides his hands into the pockets of his jeans and looks toward the snack stand.
“Well, it was good to see you,” I finally say. “I guess I’ll—”
“Do you want to hang out sometime?”
I raise my eyebrows. He’s still looking at the snack stand, so I turn slightly to see if this invitation was meant for someone else.
“I like you.”
I turn back. His eyes find mine, and I can see right away how nervous he is.
“You’re different from anyone I’ve ever met. You make me laugh. You make me . . . not want to hide.” This last admission causes him to look away again. “And I don’t know, I just thought maybe, if you wanted to, we could sort of—”
“Yes.” I duck my head until our eyes meet. “I’d love to.”
He grins. “Really?”
“Absolutely. Anytime.”
“Okay.” He takes a deep breath. “Great. I’ll call you later then.”
“I expect details, missy,” Momma says once Sam’s out of earshot and I turn back to the car. She’s standing outside, holding open the door. “Though that smile certainly says a lot.”
“Does it look familiar?” I tease. “You’ve been wearing one just like it a lot lately.”
“In the car.” Her face is pink as she glances at Oscar, who’s loading up on popcorn and sodas.
I climb into the front seat. Momma climbs in after me and closes the door.
“This is the best.” I sigh happily as the screen fills with the familiar gray cloud and the opening credits start.
“I need chocolate,” Momma says.
“Goodness gracious, Francine.” Nana Dottie shakes her head. “You had an enormous lunch. And Oscar’s bringing you ten pounds of greasy popcorn. That’s not enough?”
“It’s the salty-sweet combo,” I explain to Nana Dottie. I stand on my knees and reach for my bag in the backseat. “Fortunately, I came prepared.”
“You do love me!” Momma gasps when I hand her a chocolate cookie.
“Nana Dottie and I made them this morning. They’re low in sugar and fat, but you’d never know it.”
Momma looks doubtful but eats the cookie anyway. Her eyes widen as she chews. “Need more.”
I start to take a handful of cookies from my ABBA lunch box so that I can put it back in my bag, but then I change my mind. I leave the cookies where they are and carefully place the lunch box on the dashboard for easy access. It’s the first time I’ve ever publicly displayed the Dancing Queen.
It won’t be the last.
“Well, would you look at that,” Nana Dottie says quietly a few seconds later. She’s leaning against the driver’s side door, her eyes raised toward the sky.
Momma and I lean forward and look up. There’s nothing to see through the windshield but light blue sky.
“I’ve been afraid to put the top down.” Nana Dottie sits back. “I worried about ruining the pristine interior . . . and I also worried it would hurt. I didn’t think I could enjoy the ride without Harold here with me.”
Momma gently takes my hand in hers.
“But you have to take the chance, right?” Nana Dottie gives Momma and me a small smile. “You have to try. It might hurt at first . . . but it also might end up feeling better than you ever thought it could.”
“No pain, no gain,” Momma says softly.
Nana Dottie looks at the button to the right of the steering wheel. Her hand trembles as she reaches forward. The tip of her pointer finger stops an inch
before the button. I glance through the windshield to see Dorothy in the first of my two favorite scenes. She’s in black and white, and so is everything and everyone around her.
And then I see red. And orange. And yellow, green, blue, and a sliver of purple. They appear one by one as the convertible top lowers.
It’s a rainbow. Rising out of Coconut Grove and tilting north. It fades somewhere above us, but I think it keeps going, stretching across two thousand miles, all the way back to Curly Creek. Connecting my two homes like a long road I traveled in red Converse.
I also think I now have three favorite parts in The Wizard of Oz.
The beginning. The end. And all the colors in between.
Ruby's Slippers Page 18
