In Bloomingdale’s, Mel and Lacey scoured the jewelry department. They pretended that they had five thousand dollars apiece, just to spend on jewelry, and for almost a half an hour they gazed into glass cases, picking out the diamond earrings and gold necklaces they would buy.
When they left the jewelry department, they looked at shoes and clothes and makeup.
“Almost time for lunch,” said Lacey as they were paying for jars of liquid blusher.
“Really?” replied Mel. “Wow, the time went so fast.” She leaned over to Lacey and whispered, “Where are the rest rooms? Do I have time to go to them before lunch?”
“Sure, if you hurry,” said Lacey. “I’ll show you where they are. I’m going to look at stockings while I wait for you.”
“All right,” said Mel uncertainly as Lacey pointed her in the direction of the ladies’ lounge. But almost immediately, Mel was glad she was on her own, because she found two Justin things. The first was a whole row of telephones with brand-new phone directories in some of the booths. Maybe, thought Mel, Lacey’s phone book was old and out of date. She stopped in a booth, opened one of the new phone books, and checked all the names in Justin’s family that Lacey had looked up for her.
Nothing.
The other thing she found was a copy of Variety. It was the most recent issue, and it was lying abandoned on a couch in the lounge. Mel, attracted by Justin’s name on the front page, took several minutes to flip through it. When she found the article on Justin, she tore it out and stuffed it in her bag. She didn’t bother to read it, since she didn’t want to hold Lacey up.
Even so, after she left the rest room, she found that she couldn’t pass by the phones again without stopping to call information. She asked for all the names connected with Justin that she could think of. To some, the operator said, “We have no listing under that name.” To the others, he said, “I’m sorry, that number is unlisted.”
“But couldn’t you just give it to me?” asked Mel, knowing full well that he couldn’t.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
“Please? I’m a good friend of Justin Hart’s. Really.”
“You and several thousand other kids,” said the operator.
“What?”
“Everybody wants Justin Hart’s number.”
“Oh,” said Mel.
“Sorry. Have a nice day. Thank you for calling AT&T.”
“Any time.” Mel hung up, dejected, and ran to find Lacey.
“Where were you?” asked Lacey. “I was about to come looking for you. We’re late. It’s one-oh-five already.”
“I’m sorry,” said Mel, feeling sorrier than was necessary. “There was a long line for the bathroom. Let’s go.”
The girls hustled out of Bloomingdale’s and ran to Serendipity, which was only a couple of blocks away. The restaurant was very crowded, but their reservation seemed to be good, even though they were late. A waiter showed them to a table on the second floor next to a huge fireplace. It was quieter and less busy there, and Mel felt as if she could relax a little.
As soon as they sat down and the waiter had left, Lacey began to giggle. “What?” asked Mel.
“I should have gone to the rest room with you at Bloomie’s. Now I have to go. I’ll be right back.”
Mel watched Lacey thread her way to the stairs. When she was out of sight, Mel dove for her bag and pawed through it for the article from Variety. She scanned it eagerly, her eyes opening wider and wider.
Then she read it again.
Mel could not believe what she was reading.
Chapter Eight
BY THE TIME LACEY returned to the table, Mel had made an effort to calm down. She had read the article a third time, put it away, sipped some water, and scanned the giant menu the waiter had left on the table.
She was sure she looked normal.
“Do you know what you’re going to have?” Lacey asked her.
“I think so,” replied Mel. “How about you?”
“Oh, I don’t even need to look at the menu. I always get the same thing here. Jeanmarie says that’s really boring, but I like it.”
The waiter appeared, took their orders, and disappeared with the menus.
Mel sat back in her chair and tried to act as casual as possible. “So,” she said. “Do you have any idea where Lincoln Center is?”
“Of course,” replied Lacey. “Why?”
“Oh, just wondering.”
Lacey frowned. “Is there something you want to see there? Lincoln Center is mostly for ballet and opera and stuff. I didn’t know you liked that kind of thing.”
“I don’t. Not at all,” replied Mel honestly. “…How long do you think it would take to get there?”
“It depends on how we go. By bus, about twenty minutes if we’re lucky.”
“Is it open today?”
Lacey sighed. “Yes, it’s open. But what do you want to do there? I thought we could go to Rockefeller Center this afternoon and see the TV studios or something.”
Mel hesitated. “Could we do both?”
“What is going on at Lincoln Center? I don’t know if we can do both until I know what you want to see over there.”
“Justin,” Mel finally whispered, looking into her lap.
“What?”
“Justin.” She raised her head. “Justin and the cast of ‘It’s No Joke’ will be there. So will a lot of other TV people. It’s for some benefit.”
Lacey narrowed her eyes. “Mel, did you know about this all along? Is this the real reason you wanted to come to New York today?”
“No, I swear,” Mel said fervently. “I just found out about it. There was this copy of Variety in the ladies’ room at Bloomingdale’s and I just happened to flip through it and find the article about the benefit. It says it’s at Lincoln Center and it’s going on all this afternoon…Lacey, please—you were the one who said I should confront Justin and ask him point blank about our relationship and what happened. Well, here’s my chance. Please? You’d like to see all those TV stars, too, wouldn’t you? It would be really exciting.”
“Well…” said Lacey.
“The entire cast will be there—Tania Delaney and all the others. And,” Mel added, “the cast of two soap operas.”
Lacey jerked her head up. “Two soaps?! Which ones? Which ones?”
“‘Days of Drudgery, Days of Despair’—”
“Mel, you know that’s not what it’s called.”
“Well, you know which one I mean. And ‘Hearts and Hope.’”
“‘Hearts and Hope’? You’re kidding! Oh, I can’t believe it!”
After that, the meal at Serendipity couldn’t go fast enough. All Lacey could talk about were the stars of “Hearts and Hope.” And all Mel could think about was Justin. Neither girl tasted her food, and both skipped dessert, which ordinarily was the best part of a Serendipity meal. As soon as they had paid the bill, they dashed onto Sixtieth Street, and Lacey hailed a cab.
“A cab!” exclaimed Mel. “A cab?”
“It’ll be much faster than the bus,” said Lacey. “Look, it’s two-thirty already. We don’t want to miss anything.”
“Or anyone.”
“Lincoln Center,” Lacey told the driver, “and please hurry.”
Ten minutes later, the cab driver, having hurried so much that Mel had been sure they wouldn’t get out of the taxi alive, pulled up in front of a crowd of people.
“Are you sure this is Lincoln Center?” Mel asked Lacey. “It looks sort of like the inside of Grand Central Station.”
Lacey grinned. “It’s Lincoln Center, all right.”
Mel and Lacey stepped out of the cab and looked around. Lincoln Center, a group of modern theaters and buildings in a handsome courtyard, appeared to have been turned into a fairgrounds. A bright red banner proclaimed the charity to which all proceeds would be donated—Help for the Homeless. Vendors were everywhere, selling balloons, hats, toys, and candy. Food stalls sold hot dogs, ice cream, pre
tzels, and even egg rolls.
“This is nice,” Mel said, “but where are the stars?”
At that moment, they heard screams and shrieks from a group of people near the entrance to a building.
Mel and Lacey looked at each other. “Let’s go!” cried Mel. They ran to the crowd and wriggled through until they were near the front.
“I still can’t see anything!” Mel exclaimed. “Can you, Lacey?”
Lacey stood on tiptoe. She craned her neck back and forth. “I think someone in the doorway is signing autographs. I can’t see.”
Mel put her hands on Lacey’s shoulders and jumped up and down. “It’s a man,” she said breathlessly after the second jump, “but I don’t recognize him.”
The crowd opened up a bit and the girls moved forward. Suddenly Lacey gasped.
“What?” cried Mel. “Is it Justin?”
“No, it’s Gregory Standiford!”
“Who’s Gregory Standiford?”
“Oh, he’s…he’s dreamy. He’s Rosalind’s wealthy brother on ‘Hearts and Hope.’”
“Oh,” said Mel, disappointed. “Can you see anyone from ‘It’s No Joke’?”
“Nope,” replied Lacey. “I think these are all people from ‘Hearts and’—Aughh! There’s Roger Russeling! Oh, Mel, I’ve just got to get his autograph.” Lacey began rummaging through her purse, looking for paper.
Mel, feeling very small and sorry for herself, was distracted by more shrieking from another crowd of people at another entrance to the building. “Lacey, I’m going to go look for Justin. Why don’t we split up for a while? Let’s meet in a half an hour at that fountain over there.”
“Okay,” agreed Lacey. “I’ll see you at three-fifteen. Good luck!”
“Thanks.” Mel, not quite as hopeful as she had been when she’d first read the article in Variety, approached the other crowd and started squeezing her way through. When she was as near the front as she could get, she caught a glimpse of shiny golden hair and then of perfectly arched eyebrows and wide blue-green eyes.
Tania Delaney.
Mel drew in her breath—for two reasons. First, because Tania was even more beautiful in person than in photographs or on TV, and second, because Mel was suddenly sure that where Tania was, Justin wouldn’t be far behind.
An amazing number of questions began forming in Mel’s mind: How do I stand a chance against someone as gorgeous as gorgeous Tania? Is there any truth to those rumors about Justin and gorgeous Tania? Do I look nice enough to be seeing Justin again? What will Justin do when he sees me? What will I do if he ignores me? Where is Justin, anyway?
The only question Mel could answer was the last one. As she stood in the crowd, her mind a dazed muddle, the door opened a second time, and—
There was Justin.
Once again, Mel drew in her breath. Justin looked the way she remembered him from their first meeting on the beach. His dark curls were blowing in the breeze, his summer freckles still stretched from cheekbone to cheekbone, and his wide eyes looked…That was where Mel noticed a difference. She realized that she couldn’t call his eyes limpid anymore. They looked eager and excited, but underneath the eagerness and excitement was a wariness that had not been there before. She knew in a flash that Justin did not entirely enjoy being surrounded by adoring fans, no matter what his smile seemed to say.
Nevertheless, Mel reached into her purse for a pen and a piece of paper. She found a ballpoint pen but had to make do with an old napkin for paper.
Slowly she worked her way toward Justin and Tania. She had almost despaired of ever reaching Justin when the door opened a third time, and out stepped Peter Mansford-Johnson, who played the oldest brother on “It’s No Joke.” More shrieks arose from the crowd, a number of fans surged toward Peter, and Mel found herself standing in front of Justin Hart.
She held out her napkin and pen. “Hi, Justin,” she managed to say.
Justin glanced up and opened his eyes only slightly wider than usual. A hint of pink appeared on his cheeks. Then he ducked his head, scrawled something on Mel’s napkin, and handed it and her pen back. Immediately another fan shoved a pad of paper under Justin’s nose.
“Please write, ‘To Sarah, All my love, Zack Brody,’” she said.
“Zack! Zack!” cried another girl.
Justin was already nearly lost from Mel’s sight. Mel edged out of the crowd. Only when she had a bit of breathing space did she dare to look at her napkin.
On it was written: “I love you. 555-2173.”
Mel’s heart soared. Justin had given her his phone number!
Chapter Nine
LACEY WAS THE ONLY person Mel told about Justin. Given the excitement that had arisen over Mel’s summer fling with Justin Hart, she didn’t want anyone to know of the possibility that their relationship might redevelop. If it worked out, Mel wanted it to be private, at least for a while. If it didn’t work out, Mel wanted it to fail in private.
But Lacey could keep a secret, and Mel had to show somebody what was written on her napkin.
“I can’t believe it!” Lacey shrieked, nearly falling into the fountain when Mel held the napkin up for her.
“What do you think it means?” Mel asked cautiously.
“It means call him, you idiot! Why else would he give you his phone number?”
“But why hasn’t he called me all this time? He has my number. What if I hadn’t shown up today? Then what? I don’t get it.”
“Mel, you’re thinking too hard. Don’t ask yourself so many questions. He gave you his phone number. So call him.”
But things didn’t seem that simple to Mel.
She spent the train ride back to Bronxville coming up with more and more questions: Why does Justin want me to call him? Why now? Why would he give his phone number to plain old me when gorgeous Tania was standing practically at his elbow? Does he really want me to call, or is he just being nice?
Mel decided that Lacey was right. She was overthinking and overworrying the entire matter. By the time she stepped off the train, she had made up her mind. She would call Justin that night. She wasn’t sure when he’d be home, but nine o’clock was probably a safe bet. How she was going to wait until nine was another question in itself, since Mel was not a patient person.
However, there was nothing to do but wait. Mel showed off her Bloomingdale’s purchases to Dee and her mother.
She did some homework.
She played chess with Timmy.
She wrote an extremely sad poem.
Somehow, she managed to keep the napkin a secret.
At nine o’clock, she closed herself into the den, pulled out the napkin, and dialed Justin Hart’s phone number.
A lightly accented woman’s voice (Leila’s?) answered the phone. “Hello, Hart residence.”
Mel breathed a sigh of relief. It really was Justin’s number! “Hello, is Justin there, please?”
“No, I’m sorry, he’s not. But he’s expected home soon. May I give him a message?”
Mel hesitated. (She almost hung up the phone.) Then she said in her most adult voice, “Please tell him that Melanie Braderman called.” Melanie gave the woman her phone number.
“Certainly. I’ll give him the message.”
“Thanks,” replied Mel. “’Bye.”
“Good-bye.”
As soon as she hung up the phone, Mel began to panic. What if somebody else (Dee, in particular) got on the phone and wouldn’t get off? How long would Justin keep trying to reach Mel? (Why, oh, why didn’t her parents have Call Waiting?) What if Justin called back and somebody else answered the phone? What if they recognized his voice? Or worse, what if they didn’t recognize it and said, “Hold on a minute, P.J. I’ll get her.”? What if—
Ring, ring.
Mel jumped out of her skin. Then she snatched up the receiver, telling herself it was probably P.J. She tried to prepare for a long discussion of football.
“Hello?” she said.
“Hello…is this Mel?
”
Mel’s heart began to pound. Her knees turned to water. “Yes…” She couldn’t even bring herself to speak Justin’s name.
“Mel, this is Justin.”
“I—I know.”
“How are you?”
“Fine…How are you?”
“Fine…and nervous.”
Mel giggled. “I’m nervous, too.”
A long, awful pause followed.
“Well,” said Justin, “you’re probably wondering why I never got in touch with you.”
“That, and a few other tiny little things.”
“Mel, I’m really sorry,” said Justin. “I don’t know what else to say.”
Mel’s heart slowed and her knees regained some control over themselves. “You could say why you never told me about Zack, ‘It’s No Joke,’ Holding On, People magazine, TV Gu—”
“Okay,” Justin cut in. He paused. “Okay.” He didn’t sound angry, just resigned and embarrassed. “Mel,” he said after a moment, “I don’t know if you’ll believe this, but I really do love you.”
“You have some funny way of showing it,” she said.
“Just let me finish, Mel. This isn’t easy.”
“For me either.”
“I know, I know. Let me say what I have to say, though.”
Mel kept her mouth shut.
“This summer,” he began, “one thing I liked about you was that you liked me just because I was me.”
“Liked?” Mel couldn’t help interrupting. “Why are you using the past tense?”
“Mel. Because I’m talking about last summer, okay?”
“Okay. Sorry. Go ahead.”
“All right. See, I wasn’t famous when we first met, but even so, you honestly liked me. That was really important, because…this sounds horrible, but I know, for a fact, that a lot of people who claim to be friends with my father are not his friends at all. They’re people who want things from him—parts in movies, money, invitations to fancy parties, introductions to famous people. And a lot of actors and actresses that I know—well, they don’t have friends at all. They just have fans.”