AFTER MORE THAN A week without Joan, Frankie was a sight to see as well. She felt her sister’s absence in every room of their apartment. Everywhere she looked there were things that belonged to Joan, proof that she had lived there and was part of Frankie’s life—her skate key, her Patsy doll with eyes that blinked, her jump rope—but no one to claim them as her own or to tell Frankie to be careful when she went to play with them. Joan was there, but she wasn’t. To Frankie, it was like living with just the shadow of her sister.
And not hearing a word from Joan since she’d left certainly wasn’t helping.
Frankie missed Joan no more so than in the evenings when they would huddle in front of the Philco radio in the living room and listen to their favorite program. This evening, though, while Elizabeth was reading on the porch and Mother and Daddy were in the kitchen, Grandma Engel joined Frankie just as the set was warming up. Frankie turned the dial until the familiar voice of the announcer crackled through the speakers, advertising Blue Coal. “Ask for Blue Coal by name,” he declared. “It’s the solid fuel for solid comfort.”
Indeed, solid comfort. It was eighty-nine degrees outside. Comfort would be swimming in an ice pond.
“The Shadow, a mysterious character who aids those in distress and helps the forces of law and order, is in reality Lamont Cranston, a wealthy young man about town. Cranston’s friend and companion, the lovely Margo Lane, is the only person who knows to whom the unseen voice belongs. The only one who knows the true identity of that master of other people’s minds—The Shadow. Today’s story, ‘Guest of Death.’”
“‘Guest of Death,’” said Grandma Engel from her easy chair. “This sounds like a good one.”
Frankie grinned and they both listened as the organ music began: dum-da-da-di-dum-dum-doe-da-di-dum-DUM!
“Does Aunt Dottie have a radio?” asked Frankie.
“I believe so.”
“Good.” Frankie closed her eyes and laid her hand on the rug beside her. “Then it’s like she’s here with us.”
“Don’t worry,” said Grandma Engel. “I’m sure you’ll hear from Joan soon. She just needs some time to settle in, is all.”
“Shh,” said Frankie. She turned up the volume dial. “We’re missing it.”
“Shh yourself,” said Grandma Engel.
Frankie smiled. That’s just what Joan would’ve said.