Showstopper Read Free Page A

passed out chopsticks and opened the cardboard containers.
    Here was the situation: there was an important conference in Paris, Dad’s law firm was sending him there to attend,and he had decided to bring Mom along as a sort of second honeymoon vacation. It was all very last-minute, because the partner who was originally slated to go, Henry Abernathy, had to opt out due to a gallstone attack.
    â€œSomebody attacked Mr. Abernathy with stones?” Susan gasped, wide-eyed.
    I had to laugh at that. Sometimes it was hard to remember that, for all her witty insight and advanced vocabulary, Susan was still only eleven years old. So Dad started to explain what gallstones were, but when he got to the word bile , Susan held up her hand to stop him.
    â€œNever mind,” she said.
    Dad scooped more fried rice onto his plate and gave Mom his most charming grin. “Jennifer, we’ve been talking about going back to Paris for years. This is the perfect opportunity.”
    â€œI don’t know. . . .” Mom shook her head. “It’s such short notice.”
    â€œThat’s what makes it so exciting!” I said, eagerly reaching for an egg roll. “And romantic! I totally think you should go.”
    â€œBut what about work?” Mom tapped her chopsticks on the table. “I suppose I could move some things around, reschedule a few appointments. . . .”
    â€œReschedule!” I said, gulping down a mouthful of tea. “Definitely reschedule.”
    â€œBut what about you girls? Who’ll watch—”
    â€œNana Adele and Papa Harold can stay with us!” I blurted out. “You know they’re always saying they don’t get to spend enough time with us. They’d be thrilled.”
    â€œAnya’s right,” said Dad, gallantly reaching over to take my mother’s hand and kiss it. “So what do you say, mon amour? Will you let me carry you off to the city of lights to shower you with love and romance?”
    Susan wrinkled her nose at this parental display of affection. “Eww! Speaking of bile . . .”
    I gave my sister a sharp kick under the table to shut her up. This was going exactly as I had hoped, and I didn’t want her to mess it up.
    Mom crunched into a piece of crispy beef and sighed. “Okay,” she said, smiling. “The answer is yes.”
    â€œI think you mean oui ,” quipped Susan.
    I let out a shout of joy and sprung up from my seat. “I’ll go get your suitcase out of the attic.”
    â€œNo, you will not,” said Mom, using her chopsticks to point me back into my chair. “You will sit down and finish your General Tso’s chicken and tell me everything you’ve heard about this water-main break. I only know what Mrs. Quandt told me when she called earlier.”
    So I filled Mom in on what Mr. Healy had said about thepipe bursting and the power being turned off at the far end of the street. I also mentioned a “water issue” in the basement of the clubhouse, but I didn’t elaborate.
    â€œWe’ll probably be okay for the show,” I said, which, thanks to my careful use of the word probably , was not an entirely untruthful statement.
    â€œWhat about auditions and rehearsals?” asked Dad, offering me a fortune cookie.
    â€œOh, I’ve got another place in mind,” I replied vaguely. “Hey, did you know you can rent out the auditorium at the CCC for a very reasonable price?”
    These, of course, were both completely factual statements, even if the two concepts were not as directly related to each other as I may have made them sound.
    I could feel Susan looking at me out of the corner of her eye, but I didn’t flinch. I just calmly cracked open my cookie and unfolded the fortune.
    â€œWhat’s it say?” asked Mom. “Something good, I hope.”
    â€œIt says, ‘You have a talent for getting what you want,’ ” I