To Anne, the most beautiful girl in school. Good luck. Harvey. ’54.
Anne, will you marry me? Har! Fred Posey. ’56.
Anne, we had so much fun in Mrs. Wallace’sHome Ec. class but you’re going to be astar in New York. Remember me when you’re famous! Always, Lucy DeMarco. ’53.
Famous? Mom never wanted to be famous. She just wanted to marry “the Cookie Monster,” her nickname for Dad.
At the page titled1953 Trojan Ambitions, Harlow scanned for Mom’s name. Anne Greensly, Anne Greensly.
I’m going to be a famous model and actress.
Harlow read the words over and over. Since when? Scouring through the yearbook, Harlow learned Mom had been homecoming queen and star of the high school play,Junior Miss.
She never! When Harlow adjusted the book to crawl out of the closet into a better light, a manila envelope fell out.
At Mom’s desk, she dumped the envelope’s contents. Eight-by-ten headshots of Mom, eight-by-tens of her walking down Madison Avenue with two very beautiful women. Harlow recognized both of them: Winnie Hart, now famous under her real name, Wilhelmina, and the gorgeous Sunny Harnett. The date on the white edge was May 1957.
The last picture was a snapshot in a quintessential midtown office with long windows overlooking the city. Mom stood by the corner of a desk, arms folded, her gaze fixed on a man talking to a statuesque beauty with artisan features.
Annis Miller, founder of the Icon Agency. This looked like some sort of meeting, not a photo shoot. Mom wore a suit and heels,her brownish-gold hair styled in a simple flip. Why was she so fixed on the man, the one who pointed to the papers in Annis’s hand? He looked familiar. Dashing smile, dashing jaunt in his stance, his hair in a dashing ducktail probably held in place with a gooddashof tonic.
Whoever held the camera captured a private moment. Mom definitely had eyes only for him. Her expression was . . . love.
In that moment, the past and the present collided, and Harlow jumped up. The man. She knew him.
“Oh my gosh—”
“Harlow?” Mom dropped her clubs against the wall. “What in the world are you doing in here?”
26
MATT
Night had long since settled over Sea Blue Beach as he joined Dad on the back porch steps after the Starlight’s Tuesday evening session.
“Is Granny skating?” Dad reached into his mini cooler and passed Matt a beer.
“She’s carrying on like nothing’s changing.” The bubbles of the beer felt good on his tired throat. As the evening DJ, he’d mixed things up, resurrecting some of the old racing and tag games, which involved a lot of shouting and whistle blowing, but what a blast. Who could stay depressed trying to Hokey Pokey on wheels? Or feel angry while relay racing to the Jackson 5’s “Rockin’ Robin”?
“I’d expect no less,” Dad said. “She’s been my rock all my life. I’d not be here without her. Without that crazy Starlight.”
“You should tell her that, Dad. She thinks you gave up your dreams for her. Thinks you resent the Starlight.”
“Maybe. I thought she’d get the picture, what with me buildingmy business and raising you here. Though she’s not entirely wrong. Growing up, I had it in my head I was fourth in line behind LJ, the Starlight, and Pa. Maybe even Doc.” Dad set aside his empty beer bottle. “Then we all went to war...”
“Who’s Doc again?”
“The older gentleman who ran with Pa’s crew for a while. We met him when he dug a bullet out of Pa’s shoulder one night.” Dad pointed toward the rink. “In the back room. I think he had a thing for Ma. But for her, there was only Pa. Who didn’t deserve her.” He looked over at Matt. “Just so you know, there’s nothing out there more valuable than family, friends, a good town, and a solid job that allows you to go to your kid’s ball games. When your mom died, that’s when I saw how great your granny was, and I gave up some of my young man foolishness.”
“Hark, Sea Blue Beach! Dupree Knight is expressing tenderness for his ma and son.”
“Don’t be a wise guy.” But there was a layer of affection in Dad’s voice. “I’m not sure I can sleep without the Starlight sign casting its colorful glow over the town. Sometimes even makes me want to skate.”
“If you showed up with skates, Granny would keel over.”
“Probably,” Dad said. “So, you’re going to LA? Any word from Harlow?”
“I’ll be back in a couple of weeks. The petitions come down Thursday for verification. Spike and Mary are going to take care of it. I called Harlow, and she’s forgiven me, but we’ve ‘called it a day,’ as she said. Besides, I’m not sure I can compete with Xander Cole anyway.”
