“So what did you think?” Papa Mancini asked his oldest daughter, Ella.
They were on her first-ever trip to a Sunday matinee at a Broadway theater, which Papa decided he would give her as a present every year around her birthday. Ella was five, and after the show he took her to the most marvelous place in the world, a restaurant called Serendipity 3. It was pink and white, with fancy light fixtures and beautiful tables. It was on East 60th Street, between Second and Third Avenues in New York City, and seemed a world away from their home in the Bronx. They sat on the second floor.
Ella dipped her spoon into her frozen hot chocolate, Serendipity 3’s specialty. “It’s good,” she said.
“I mean the show,” Papa said. And smiled.
She loved his smile.
“I liked it,” she said, and dug out a cherry from the whipped cream on top of her sweet concoction. “Especially Simba.”
She roared.
“I hope you always roar, mio dolce figlia,” Papa said softly as he wiped some whipped cream off her chin with a napkin.
Papa loved all his daughters. Each one was special. Ella, he saw, had a spark in her eye that turned to a blaze when she and her sisters performed little plays and songs for their parents and relatives. The way she flounced across their homemade stage and sang songs so earnestly in her little girl’s vibrato reminded him of his grandmother, who used to be a well-known actor in Sicily.
Papa didn’t want Ella’s creative flame to be quenched. Ever.
The server came by. “This little girl is so sweet, her dessert is free.”
“Free?” Ella’s eyes widened.
Papa chuckled. “See? Everyone knows you’re special.”
* * *
“So what did you think?” Papa asked Ella, whose feet now touched the ground at Serendipity 3.
She dipped her spoon into her frozen hot chocolate. “I want to be Mary Poppins,” she said. “I want that big purse she carried, with the magic measuring tape. I know what it would say if I measured you, Papa.”
“What?”
“The best papa in the world. Times a hundred million.” A hundred million was a big number.
He grinned. “You know what it would say if I measured you?”
“No. What?” She couldn’t wait to find out.
He leaned forward and whispered, “This little lady is one of the great treasures of her papa’s heart.”
She was treasure? In his heart? Like gold? And diamonds? She would be a ruby, she decided. A red ruby that gleamed always with love for her father.
Once again, a server came by and said, “No charge for this table.”
Papa leaned back. “Why not?”
The server indicated Ella. “She’s too cute. The frozen hot chocolate is on us.”
Ella’s mouth fell open. Serendipity 3 was a magical place.
* * *
“What do you think, my princess? How did you like the show?” asked Papa at Serendipity 3.
At age twelve, Ella decided no more frozen hot chocolate for her. She was going to have something called a Forbidden Broadway sundae. “I loved it,” she said, and dug into a chunk of chocolate cake with hot fudge sauce.
“Why?” Papa was always persistent.
Sometimes Ella didn’t feel like talking to him as much, and that worried her. He was her favorite man. She never wanted to hurt him. “Well,” she said, thinking, and then knew what she was going to say. “I want to be an actor.”
“You do?” Papa’s eyebrows flew up.
Ella nodded. “Today Belle looked out into the audience, and I got goose bumps. She was looking right at me. It was like she was telling me, ‘you could be me.’”
She had little tears in her eyes, which brought tears to his.
“Is that what you want, Ella?”
“More than anything,” she said. “In fact”—she put down her spoon—“I’m trying out for another play at school. Do you think I’m too young to be serious about acting?”
“Absolutely not,” said Papa.
She grinned at him. “I love you, Papa.”
A handsome teenage boy carrying a bus pan filled with dirty ice cream glasses and plates walked by the table, and she blushed.
“Just don’t let anyone stand in the way of your dreams.” Papa winked at her and grinned.
“Papa!” she said back, embarrassed. She wished he wouldn’t say such silly things!
She hoped that boy hadn’t heard.
Later their server came by with the bill. When Papa looked at it, it said, No charge.
“They really like us here,” Ella whispered to her father.
“It’s because of you,” he said. “You must be their favorite birthday girl.”
* * *
“So,” said Papa, his eyes tired, a little bloodshot, too, from working a late wedding party in the Mancini family restaurant the night before. “What did you think?”
Ella had decided to get a frozen hot chocolate again, her first time in years. “I loved it so much, I won’t be able to sleep tonight.” She laughed.
“Me too.” Papa smiled.
“Papa,” she said, “I just want you to know something.”
“What, mio dolce figlia?”
Her eyes filled with tears. “I can’t believe I’m going away to college in less than a month, and I won’t be with you on my birthday.” She had to swallow hard. “I just want you to know our annual trip has been the biggest, most wonderful memory of my entire life. Thank you. I’m going to miss you.”
“And I you,” he said, “but you’ll always be here.” He placed his hand over his heart. “Even when you are away. And someday you’ll come back with a degree in theater. And when you do, I’ll go see you star in a Broadway play.”
Ella laughed. “I hope so.”
“I know so,” said Papa. He laid his hand over hers. “Don’t let anyone or anything stop you from following your dreams.”
She sighed. “Papa, no one and nothing will stop me. I promise.”
He smiled a little sadly.
“What?” she asked. “Don’t you believe me?”
“Of course, I do,” he said, and laughed. “You’re just like your great-grandmother. Such sparkle and fire. Always listen to your heart. It won’t steer you wrong.”
“I will. I promise,” Ella said, but she was still worried about that shadow that had passed over his face.
He picked up the bill. “No charge. Again.”
Ella grinned. “I really do think I’m their favorite birthday girl. I want to thank them before we leave. They’ve been so nice to me all these years.”
“Good idea,” said Papa. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to buy you a Serendipity 3 mug as a souvenir.”
“Oh, that’s so sweet of you!”
Papa spoiled her. But Ella knew she’d drink out of that mug every day when she moved to Charleston.
He winked and left her to finish her frozen hot chocolate.
A handsome young man about her age walked by Ella to a nearby empty table, where a waitress was filling a bowl with sugar packets. He hugged her.
“You? You’re back?” the waitress said, grinning. “From our favorite busboy to college student. We’re so proud of you.”
Ella couldn’t help listening in. She remembered him. From a few years ago—he was that cute busboy with the cowlick.…
She’d seen him the next year, too, and the one after that—but not last year. Somehow the cowlick was patted down now. Totally gone.
“Don’t get too excited,” the guy told the waitress. “I dropped out.”
“No.”
He nodded. “I’m going to be an actor.”
“An actor? Not a lawyer?”
“Sure? Why not?”
“I don’t know.” The waitress lofted one eyebrow. “Don’t lawyers make a lot of money? And actors starve?”
The guy caught Ella’s eye and grinned.
She turned beet red.
“Think I can be an actor?” he asked her, off the cuff.
Ella smiled and nodded. She was terrible with boys. Maybe someday she’d become more sophisticated.
He kept his eyes on her while he said to the waitress, “See? That beautiful girl thinks so.”
“I do,” Ella piped up, and didn’t even have time to blush about the compliment he’d given her. “I’m going to be an actor myself.”
Actor. Not actress. Ella wasn’t going to enter any profession without pushing for equal say and equal pay. Papa and Mama had both taught her to fight for what was right.
The waitress shook her head. “Young people,” she said, and sighed.
He kissed the older woman on the cheek and walked over to Ella’s table. “What’s your name?”
“Ella. Ella Mancini.”
“I’m Hank Rogers. You’ve been here before, right?”
She was shocked he recognized her. “I come once a year with my father. Nice to meet you.”
“You too, Ella.” He paused a beat. “Hey, will I see you around at auditions?”
“No,” she said, her heart fluttering in her chest, “I’m going to college first. Out of state. I’m majoring in theater. No one in my family has ever gotten a college degree. I want to change that and then start my big Broadway career.”
“Good for you,” he said. “Break a leg.”
He was so cute! Her heart did a huge flip. “Break a leg yourself.”
They looked at each other a beat too long.
“We’ll meet again,” Hank said. “I can feel it.”
Somehow, she did too. But she was afraid to agree with him out loud.
“I’ll look for you, Ella,” he said, his hands in his pockets. “Four years from now, after you graduate. Back here in New York. This day. The day before July Fourth. Here in Serendipity 3. Mark it on your calendar, okay?”
“It’s a date,” she said, not wanting to break eye contact.
And that was when Papa showed up with a little shopping bag that contained her souvenir mug.
“Goodbye, Hank,” she said to the boy over her shoulder as she wrapped her arm through Papa’s free one.
“Good thing you’re going to South Carolina,” Papa said with a chuckle. “Hopefully, there are no boys there.”
“Oh, Papa, I’ll be fine,” she assured him.
At the register on the first floor, Ella thanked everyone for gifting her with a free birthday treat each year. “You’re very kind,” she said.
They were all smiles. The manager said, “It’s our pleasure. It’s nice to see a father and daughter with a tradition.”
At the door Ella said, “I wonder how they knew?”
“Do we not look very much alike?” Papa asked.
“Yes, we do,” Ella said. She had his eyes and his chin. “And they must have noticed us coming in, year after year after year.”
“We’re hard to miss. You’re a beautiful young lady,” her father said.
“Oh, Papa.” She squeezed his arm.
When she walked out, Ella had no idea she and Papa would never go to Serendipity 3 together again.