“DO YOU THINK DADDY is all right?” Frankie asked Elizabeth as she buttoned up her cotton nightgown and climbed into bed. She wouldn’t normally start such a conversation with Elizabeth, but she needed to talk to someone, and Bismarck was asleep on the porch.
“What do you mean?” Elizabeth was already settled in her bed and propped up against the velvet headboard, a book in her lap. “Why wouldn’t he be all right?” she said, opening the book and finding the last page where she’d left off.
“You know, disappearing like that.” Frankie scooted herself to the center of her bed so she wouldn’t have to see Joan’s empty side.
Elizabeth didn’t look up from her page. “You don’t know the first thing about running a business, Frankie. He has a lot to do. Something you should think about the next time you go off gallivanting around town without telling anyone.”
“But what business would he have to do all of a sudden? Just as we were about to have supper?”
Elizabeth snapped her book closed. “I don’t know, but don’t you go bothering him about it. He has enough on his mind these days.”
“All right, fine,” said Frankie. Was it possible for a Number One to refrain from bossing? No, it was not. “I won’t go bothering him.”
“Good.” Elizabeth sighed and opened her book once again.
“Elizabeth?”
“What, Frankie?”
“Does anyone tease you, or give you trouble about Daddy?”
Elizabeth looked up. “About Daddy? No, why would they?”
“You know, about him being a German.”
Elizabeth sat right up in bed. “What are you talking about, Frankie Baum? Daddy is no German.”
Frankie got to her knees and gathered up a corner of the cotton sheet in her palm. “I don’t mean one of those Germans, not those Nazi Germans, the ones making trouble and war. But I just mean being from Germany, or having his family there. Does anyone say anything to you about that?”
Elizabeth shook her head. Her eyes were opened wide, as if this were the first time she’d ever heard of such a thing. Frankie wondered how it could be that she and Elizabeth shared the same mother and father—the same bedroom, even—but lived on different planets in opposite universes. Just once, Frankie wanted to visit Elizabeth’s planet, where life was easy and the biggest trouble was deciding whether to wear your hair in finger waves or pin curls. “Why, have people said something to you?”
“Not people, really,” said Frankie. “One person.”
“Who?”
“Leroy Price,” said Frankie.
“What did he say?”
“He asked if we were going to make German food at the restaurant.” Frankie winced at remembering and wished she’d gotten some swings in or a good kick up his backside. She would have, she knew, if that Seaweed hadn’t interfered.
“Oh,” said Elizabeth, looking relieved. “Is that all? Frankie, there are Italian restaurants in town, you know. Jewish delicatessens. I’m sure he was just curious about the food.”
“I heard his father say some things, too,” protested Frankie.
“Mr. Price from the Chamber of Commerce?” said Elizabeth.
Frankie nodded.
“What did he say? Things about Daddy or the restaurant?”
“Both,” said Frankie.
Elizabeth shook her head, dismissing Frankie’s concerns. “Mr. Price, I’m sure, just wants to know about the restaurant because it’s his job at the Chamber of Commerce to know about businesses in town. That’s all.”
“I don’t know,” said Frankie quietly.
“Look,” said Elizabeth, “everybody loves Daddy. He’s got friends everywhere—the Alsatias, the Owls Club, the Eagles. Do you think they’d let him into those clubs if they thought of him in . . . you know, that way?”
“You mean being a German?” said Frankie.
“Shh!” Elizabeth was very close to throwing her book at Frankie. “Would you stop saying that?”
Frankie wondered if Elizabeth had a point. “I guess you’re right.”
“Of course I’m right,” said Elizabeth, leaning back against her pillow, as if there shouldn’t be an ounce of doubt. “Now, go to sleep.”
Frankie turned over so her back was to Elizabeth. But she did not sleep.
No, sir, she most certainly did not. For how can you sleep and listen for the door at the same time?