Page 38 of Supernova

"Jo?" Carrie says, holding out a hand in Jo's direction. "I know you're handy and a talented seamstress. We would love to have you on the decorations committee--would you be willing to do that?"

Jo sits up straighter at the table and plasters a smile on her face. "Decorations?" she repeats. "Okay. I can do that."

Carrie picks up a clipboard and consults a list of subcommittees she needs to fill. "Frankie," she says, pulling Frankie's attention away from the window that looks out on the parking lot. She's been thinking about whether or not people are more evil in New York, and her mind has taken a trip downa rabbit hole. "We've been kicking around the idea of having a dance number. Something in one of the hangars maybe, where we open up the doors and people can stand outside and watch from there. We were thinking that, given the fact that we have permission to use the area that day, we should give visitors a variety of things to see and do."

Lorraine gives an efficient smile and holds up a hand. "Ladies," she says, smiling at Carrie, "we know you are a group of multi-talented and capable women, and we'd love to have you pitch us some ideas of things we could do that day that would really wow people. We've got reporters scheduled to attend from national outlets, and so we want the Spring Fling to showcase the fact that our husbands might be on a fast-track to the moon, but we're here to support them, and we're a bunch of interesting and unique women."

Frankie is listening with interest, already thinking about what she could do for the performance and what she might be able to choreograph. Should she get the women together for a show, or maybe all the kids? The kids might be better, given their inherent cuteness and the fact that even if they make a mistake, people will still love their performance. In addition, she knows that putting together a show with all these kids will be an excellent way to advertise her own business. After all, if Lorraine and Margaret and the rest of these women love watching what Frankie does with their children for the Spring Fling, then they're much more likely to sign them up for her dance classes for the rest of the year.

The women are offering up all kinds of ideas as Frankie thinks about her role in this event. She nods and smiles as some of the women she doesn't know as well sign up to be clowns circulating at the event and handing out balloons, others volunteer to dress as female astronauts, and some agree to be tour guides, giving mini tours to visitors and sharing thehistory of the space station. They cover food (they'll ask local restaurants to have booths at the event), music (WXBR, the brand new radio station in Cocoa Beach, will broadcast live from Cape Kennedy that day and give away prizes to attendees), and issues like parking and restrooms. It's a pretty massive undertaking, and Frankie is more than happy that Carrie is helming it rather than her. She can manage her portion, but there's no way she'd want to take charge of forty women and all the minor details that go along with putting on the Spring Fling.

When the meeting ends, Frankie and Jo walk out into the lot together, holding their purses in hand as they shield their eyes against the midday sun. "Looks like we're both on the hook for something, huh?" Jo asks amiably.

Frankie stops near her car and leans against the hood, which has gotten warm in the sun. She folds her arms over her chest. "I can handle the performance," Frankie says. "But Jo? Remember how I said I wanted to dance and you told me you'd help me find a place where I could put on a show?"

Jo leans against the car next to her as she nods her head. "I do. I remember."

Jude and Barbie cross the parking lot together, waving at Jo and Frankie as they climb into their own cars. The women wave back.

"I'm almost ready. I've been working on a piece and I think it's almost ready."

Jo kicks the tire of the car lightly with one heel. "I'm really curious to see you on stage," she says, glancing at Frankie's profile. "Are you nervous at all?"

Frankie shakes her head. "Not really. I haven't performed in a few years, but you know, as soon as I started dancing again it all came back to me. It was like I never stopped."

"Like riding a bike?" Jo teases, bumping Frankie with one shoulder.

"Something like that." Frankie squints off into the distance as more of the women file out of the cafe and get into their cars. "So, where do you think I should put on this show?"

"There's a performing arts building in Cocoa Beach," Jo says, "and I think we could probably get you in there."

Frankie looks at her in surprise. "I'd have to pay a lot to rent a space like that." She shakes her head. "And I was just envisioning the five of us and our husbands. Maybe a few other people. If we get a space that big, it'll just be twenty people in a giant auditorium." She can feel herself getting more vehemently opposed to the idea with each passing second. "No, I don't think so, Jojo. I feel like maybe the kids' elementary school auditorium would work. I bet they'd let us use it really cheap for an evening."

Jo laughs as if Frankie is acting crazy. "You are aware that you're a former Rockette and veteran stage performer, right? There are plenty of people who'd pay for a night out to see you dance."

Frankie tugs at one side of her long, dark hair as she thinks about this. "I mean...I guess you're right."

"Of course I'm right. Let me see what I can do, okay?"

"Okay," Frankie agrees.

As luck would have it, because of an opera singer who has cancelled a show due to throat nodules, Jo is able to get a slot on a Sunday evening at the end of March. When she calls Frankie that very evening with the news, Frankie is gobsmacked.

"That's only about nine days away," she protests. "I don't even know what I'm going to wear."

"You'd better decide," Jo says. "I told them we'd take it before anyone else could grab it, and we need to give them the music, a lighting scheme, information on how many performers, how many acts and scenes, and how many costume changes ASAP."

A rush of adrenaline pulses through Frankie's veins, causing her eyesight to fade in and out briefly. Can she even do this? It'sbeen years, and dancing for herself in her new studio space as she plans for the classes she's going to teach is entirely different than getting on stage and performing the piece she's been working on. This dance is highly personal and deeply emotional, and there's no way she can be ready in nine days. No way.

"Okay, I'll do it," Frankie says without hesitation. Her inner voice is screaming at her to decline, to run and hide, to never speak of this again, but the part of her that knows she'll find solace and catharsis in the performance is propelling her forward. "I'll get you the information on the show as soon as I can get it all written down."

"Wonderful. I'm calling all the other girls and we'll spread the word. I've also alerted the PR person at NASA that the wife of their own Ed Maxwell, Francesca Lombardi Maxwell, former Rockette, will be dancing at the Cocoa Beach Performing Arts Center."

"God, Jo..." Frankie is stunned at how much work Jo has already put into this, and at how bold she was to start making all these plans without Frankie's official go-ahead. "No one is going to pay to see this performance, are they?"

Jo laughs. "Of course they are. When you go out for a night of professional entertainment, don't you expect to pay?"

"I can't take the money," Frankie argues. She feels strongly about this. Asking people to come and watch her perform is self-indulgent enough, but asking them to pay good money to line her pockets is out of the question. In fact, she knows Ed well enough to know that he'll be embarrassed by the thought that his coworkers are paying to see his wife on stage.

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