that caught Adele’s attention at once:
“Barking Dog Cigarettes?” the woman was saying to a sullen-looking fellow with a mustache, at least five years her senior. “Are you kidding me? Who smokes these things, cocker spaniels?”
“Lotsa people smoke ’em,” the man protested.
Rummaging through another box, she read off the labels, “Smiles—Bright Star—Sensation—these are all discount brands! Is that it, you got some kind of deal on these cheap brands?”
“Ten-centers sell like hotcakes,” the man said. “You got some Paul Jones in there too, that’s a popular brand—”
“People buy discount brands because they can’t afford the fifteen-centers. They don’t want to win them as prizes at an amusement park.” The woman dismissively dropped the cartons into the box. “Return ’em. All of them. If you can’t return them, put one or two on the shelves as filler, but get me Luckies, Camels, Chesterfields, Old Golds—something that people want to smoke, not what they can afford to smoke.”
She turned brusquely; the man grudgingly began picking up the cartons of rejected cigarettes. Now Adele put the face and voice together:
“Minette?” she said. “Minette Dobson?”
“Yes?” The woman turned. Even with her hair pulled back and only the barest amount of makeup adorning her face, she was absolutely beautiful, with high cheekbones and cupid’s-bow lips. She eyed Adele with a flicker of recognition: “I know you. Where do I know you from?”
“Cumbermeade Road. I’m Adele Worth—well I was, now I’m Adele Stopka—Frank Worth’s daughter?”
Minette smiled radiantly, seeming genuinely pleased to see her. “Oh my gosh—the movie star down the block!”
Adele laughed. “You were a much bigger star on that block. Even if you were hardly ever there.”
“Are you kidding? I saw one of your old pictures in a movie house in Wichita, Kansas, when my dad and I were playing the Orpheum circuit. Oh, I was so envious—I wished I was back home in Fort Lee, making pictures, instead of dancing my fanny off in Wichita. It’s been years, how have you been? Are you working at Palisades too?”
Adele nodded. “My husband and I have a French fry stand across from the pool. Is this your wheel?”
“I’m managing it for a friend,” Minette said. “This is my first season.”
“You must’ve got in just under the wire, the Rosenthals locked up half the concessions.”
“They made room for my boss, he’s a hotshot businessman around here. Your stand’s by the pool? My little sister is applying for a job there as a locker girl, I was about to go over to see her … you want to walk with me?”
“Sure.”
The two women struck up the midway together. “I really did envy you,” Minette said frankly. “When I wasn’t on the road with the Thirteen Sirens, my parents sent me to convent school in Massachusetts. I don’t regret either one, but once in a while I did wish that I lived in one place, in a normal house, living a normal life.”
Oh, sister, if you only knew. Adele kept the thought to herself. “Have you been in vaudeville with your dad all this time?”
“Oh no, I went out on my own a few years back. Started out as a cigarette girl, then a showgirl in a New York nightclub. After that I was a stand-up vocalist with a dance band—we toured all over the country.”
“Wow,” Adele said softly. “And you’re, what, about twenty-four?”
“Twenty-three.”
Minette was four years younger than Adele, yet had already done things Adele could only daydream about. She forced a smile. “So, you’re finally back home in Fort Lee. You got your wish.”
“Well, there’s a fella I’m seeing who lives here, and I thought, why not stick close to home for a while? See how it goes. And I’ve never worked an amusement park before, it sounded like fun. You like working at Palisades?”
“It’s all right,” Adele said, though a minute ago she would have responded more
“Barking Dog Cigarettes?” the woman was saying to a sullen-looking fellow with a mustache, at least five years her senior. “Are you kidding me? Who smokes these things, cocker spaniels?”
“Lotsa people smoke ’em,” the man protested.
Rummaging through another box, she read off the labels, “Smiles—Bright Star—Sensation—these are all discount brands! Is that it, you got some kind of deal on these cheap brands?”
“Ten-centers sell like hotcakes,” the man said. “You got some Paul Jones in there too, that’s a popular brand—”
“People buy discount brands because they can’t afford the fifteen-centers. They don’t want to win them as prizes at an amusement park.” The woman dismissively dropped the cartons into the box. “Return ’em. All of them. If you can’t return them, put one or two on the shelves as filler, but get me Luckies, Camels, Chesterfields, Old Golds—something that people want to smoke, not what they can afford to smoke.”
She turned brusquely; the man grudgingly began picking up the cartons of rejected cigarettes. Now Adele put the face and voice together:
“Minette?” she said. “Minette Dobson?”
“Yes?” The woman turned. Even with her hair pulled back and only the barest amount of makeup adorning her face, she was absolutely beautiful, with high cheekbones and cupid’s-bow lips. She eyed Adele with a flicker of recognition: “I know you. Where do I know you from?”
“Cumbermeade Road. I’m Adele Worth—well I was, now I’m Adele Stopka—Frank Worth’s daughter?”
Minette smiled radiantly, seeming genuinely pleased to see her. “Oh my gosh—the movie star down the block!”
Adele laughed. “You were a much bigger star on that block. Even if you were hardly ever there.”
“Are you kidding? I saw one of your old pictures in a movie house in Wichita, Kansas, when my dad and I were playing the Orpheum circuit. Oh, I was so envious—I wished I was back home in Fort Lee, making pictures, instead of dancing my fanny off in Wichita. It’s been years, how have you been? Are you working at Palisades too?”
Adele nodded. “My husband and I have a French fry stand across from the pool. Is this your wheel?”
“I’m managing it for a friend,” Minette said. “This is my first season.”
“You must’ve got in just under the wire, the Rosenthals locked up half the concessions.”
“They made room for my boss, he’s a hotshot businessman around here. Your stand’s by the pool? My little sister is applying for a job there as a locker girl, I was about to go over to see her … you want to walk with me?”
“Sure.”
The two women struck up the midway together. “I really did envy you,” Minette said frankly. “When I wasn’t on the road with the Thirteen Sirens, my parents sent me to convent school in Massachusetts. I don’t regret either one, but once in a while I did wish that I lived in one place, in a normal house, living a normal life.”
Oh, sister, if you only knew. Adele kept the thought to herself. “Have you been in vaudeville with your dad all this time?”
“Oh no, I went out on my own a few years back. Started out as a cigarette girl, then a showgirl in a New York nightclub. After that I was a stand-up vocalist with a dance band—we toured all over the country.”
“Wow,” Adele said softly. “And you’re, what, about twenty-four?”
“Twenty-three.”
Minette was four years younger than Adele, yet had already done things Adele could only daydream about. She forced a smile. “So, you’re finally back home in Fort Lee. You got your wish.”
“Well, there’s a fella I’m seeing who lives here, and I thought, why not stick close to home for a while? See how it goes. And I’ve never worked an amusement park before, it sounded like fun. You like working at Palisades?”
“It’s all right,” Adele said, though a minute ago she would have responded more
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