Matt tucked the paper in his pocket. “Do you think I should go in there?” He pointed toward Harlow’s.
“Does it have anything to do with why you’re standing in the middle of the street wearing skates?”
“Harlow’s ex is here. I should see if she’s okay.”
“Leave her be, Matt. She can handle herself.”
A car horn sounded and Dad drove on while Matt skated to the curb with a final glance at Harlow’s front door. Dad was right. She could handle herself.
He hated when Dad was right.
TUESDAY
OCTOBER 1939
The Starlight was shining! The entire town buzzed about her Stars at the Starlight. LJ had proposed the idea one evening after dinner while perusingRoller Skatingmagazine.
“Ma, let’s get the Van Horns orHeddy Stenuf to perform at the rink. Or Vivian Bell.She’s the reigning speed skate champion.”
“Now why wouldthose stars want to come to the Starlight?”
LJ and his mischievous smile ...“’Cause we’re the Starlight.”
He wrote to them via the magazine that night, and now the rink was the center of the Sea Blue Beach Fall Fair. Farmers, growers, pickers, fishermen, sailors from the naval ports, the boys from Eglin, and folks from across the growing Panhandle converged on Sea Blue Beach, expressly the Starlight, for a week of celebration from their harvesting labors andto see the stars.
Surely the Man on the Moon could see their festivities from his lofty perch. Shop doors were opened from seven in the morning until midnight. Beach vendors sold boiled peanuts and hot, buttery corn on the cob. With Burt’s help, Tuesday set up a bonfire outside the Starlight and introduced folks to a newfangled idea—marshmallow roasting.
But that was nothing to the show going on inside the rink. Spectators lined the walls and filled the balcony, crowding together under the raised panels.
The Van Horns replied to LJ’s inquiry first, then Heddy. Once the ball got rolling, Tuesday gave her heart and soul to this night. She made long-distance phone calls she couldn’t afford and used the last penny in her account to pay for travel and lodging. The Fall Festival had always been good to her, but this year was her pièce de résistance.
And now, it was time for the show! Wearing her beautiful Richardsonskates, Tuesday rolled through the crowd and onto the amber-colored wood floor, with the cord of the microphone rig she’d rented all the way from New Orleans trailing behind her.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Tuesday began, “tonight the Starlight presents”—LJ aimed the spotlight on her as her voice filled the rink and swirled around every man, woman, boy, and girl, across the sand and over the sea—“for the first time ever”—the band, positioned in the balcony around the Wurlitzer, blasted the first notes of “Goodnight My Love”—“the great acrobatic skating couple Earl and Inez Van Horn.”
Tuesday faded from the light, coiling the microphone cord, as Earl and Inez swept past her in an artistic and acrobatic dance skate. The crowd ooh’d and aah’d. Tuesday watched for a few minutes thinking Prince Blue would be proud, then hurried to her office, where Heddy Stenuf waited to go next.
Jackpot, jackpot, jackpot. The money she’d shelled out for her stars, the band, the equipment and food, plus a few extra employees, had been worth it. The Starlight was shining, and after tonight, she’d be well in the black.
“Do you have everything you need, Miss Stenuf?”
“Sure do. Swell little joint you’ve got here, Tuesday Knight. Good for you.”
“You don’t know how much all of this means to us.”
“I love to skate, and I love anyone who gives me a stage.”
Tuesday refreshed Heddy’s coffee, then found LJ in concession, boiling hot dogs and stirring up a large batch of hot cocoa.
“I know you’d rather be out watching the show with your friends,” she said. “But I can’t do this without you.”
“I know,” LJ said with a sly grin. “That’s why you’ll let me go flying tomorrow morning. Mr. Diamond is taking me up again in his crop duster. Then we’re going to watch the training at the airbase.”
“I don’t suppose I could talk you out of this flying craze. It makes me nervous to have you up in the air with only God’s breathkeeping you afloat.” She brushed her hand over his dark brown hair, which even Brylcreem couldn’t tame. He wore a red-and-blue plaid shirt, the colors faded from washing and ironing, corduroys, and a pair of scuffed brown lace-ups.
“Ma, flying is freedom. Wait until I’m really good and I’ll take you up. You’ll see.”
“Are you going to run away, join the circus? Become a wing walker?”
