CHAPTER ONE
“Two tuna melts and fries.”
The greasy-haired cook slammed two plates on the counter before turning to flip a row of sizzling burgers. The scent wafting out from the kitchen made Tillie’s stomach growl. She placed a hand over her abdomen and willed the ache away, at least until she had a few minutes to spare. A busy lunch crowd had followed a busy breakfast crowd, leaving no time for her meal—a grapefruit half and a scoop of cottage cheese—usually eaten between double shifts.
Arlene, another waitress and one of Tillie’s roommates, moved behind the pink and blue bar, snapping her gum as she jotted something down in her order pad. “Those burgers yours?”
“They’re for table twelve.” Tillie took a swig of coffee from a cup she’d already refilled at least four times, then reached for the plates. “I’ve got ‘em.”
She pasted on a smile and approached the two middle-aged men in fashionable suits at table twelve. Plenty of Broadway types—make-up artists, stage managers, chorus singers, and the like—ate at the Centerstage Diner regularly. If they didn’t, working there wouldn’t be worth the long bus ride from her Lower East Side apartment.
“Here are your burgers.” She placed the plates down on the pink tabletop. “Can I get you anything else?”
One of the men opened his napkin and dropped into his lap. “That’ll be all for now, thank you.”
“Enjoy your meal.”
Tillie stopped to collect her tips from two baby blue booths in the back corner, glad for the busy day. She’d be able to afford a fan for her bedroom, a necessity now that summer had arrived and the heat made it difficult to sleep at night. Happily, she whistled as she walked across the black-and-white checkered floor to join Arlene and their other roommate Norma at the bar.
Norma lifted the coffee pot off the burner. “Need a refill?”
Tillie grabbed her cup and held it out. “Thank you.”
“Have either of you seen this Me and Juliet review?” Arlene peered out over the top of a newspaper. “A customer left this on the bar, and I couldn’t let a perfectly good entertainment section go to waste. Especially since it has this review. It’s the first one that’s come out since the play opened.”
Me and Juliet was Roger and Hammerstein’s latest musical. It starred Oren Cooper, a bonafide Hollywood star with several musical film credits under his belt and a career that rivaled Gene Kelly’s. He’d announced his homecoming a few months ago, claiming a desire to return to Broadway and reconnect with his family in New Jersey.
His parents had missed him. At least, that’s what they’d told Tillie when she ran into them at the Ridgefield Market..
She peeked over Arlene’s shoulder and around her friend’s blonde bubble cut. “What does the review say?”
“The show’s lacking a strong story, but—” she paused to look up and waggle her eyebrows, “the wonderful Oren Cooper was wonderful as always.”
Norma let out a dreamy sigh. “Of course, he was.”
Arlene folded up the paper and slapped it down on the bar. “I don’t know which he has more of—talent or charm.”
“Neither matter with a face as handsome as his.” Norma turned toward the mirror lining the back wall and patted her short, black curls. “Do you think he’ll ever come in here? Sometimes, the famous ones do.”
Tillie emptied a sugar packet into her coffee and tipped her chin toward the paper. “Mind if I take that? I’d like to read it on my ride home.”
“Sure.” Arlene bopped Tillie on the shoulder with it before pointing to the end of the bar. “But first, you’re up.”
A customer had slipped in while they were talking and had taken a seat at the counter. With his face stuck behind a newspaper, only his dark hat peeked out over the top.
“Put the paper in my bag for me?” Tillie asked.
“Will do,” Arlene said before disappearing into the back.
Tillie walked to the end of the bar, armed with her well-practiced smile. “Hello there. My name’s Tillie, and I’ll be your waitress—”
She stopped abruptly when the man looked up at her with the most captivating blue eyes she’d ever seen.
“Oren Cooper!”
“Yes, yes. Can you keep it down?” He glanced over both shoulders, shrinking into himself like a turtle into its shell. “I’m trying to keep a low profile.”
“Sorry.” Tillie covered her mouth with her fingertips and lowered her voice. “I was just so surprised to see you. Oh! And you probably don’t remember me.” She pinched her name tag. “I’m Tillie, from Ridgewood.”
Oren squinted. “We’ve met?”
His question stung, though he could be forgiven for not recognizing her. She had been only nine when he left town. She’d also been too shy and inexperienced to talk to him much back when he was a high school heartthrob and she was a little girl with a crush. Still, she’d hoped her name would ring a bell.
“Guy Parker’s younger sister.”
Oren’s expression lifted with recognition. “Guy Parker! How the hell is he?”
“Good.” Tillie wiped a few crumbs from the front of her powder blue uniform, then straightened her shoulders. “He married Susie Miller. They have three kids.”
“That’s great.” Oren tipped his hat up an inch higher and met her gaze. “Sorry for not recognizing you. It’s been damn near a decade since we’ve seen each other.”
“Of course. I’ll tell Guy you send your best.”
“Please do.” He put the paper down and rested an elbow on the bar. “How about you, Tillie? What are you doing in New York?”
Her smile spread. “Trying to make it in show business, of course.”
A spark of interest lit Oren’s eyes. “What do you do? Sing? Dance? Act?”
“All of it. I have training in ballet, piano, drama, and vocal performance. I’ve landed a few chorus girl gigs, but nothing more, yet. I’ve only been out here for six months.”
“Yet.” Oren nodded and wagged his finger at her. “I like your optimism.”
Tillie clasped her hands loosely behind her back, pleased with the way she’d redeemed herself after a fumbling re-introduction. “If I didn’t have my optimism, where would I be?”
“Waitress!” A customer sitting in a booth near the door shook a ketchup bottle overhead. “This one’s empty. We need another.”
Tillie held up one finger up and called out, “Just a second,” before reaching into her pocket and fumbling for a pencil. “Sorry about that. We were busy earlier, and no one had time to refill the bottles.” She tapped her pencil tip to the pad. “What can I get for you?”
“I’ll have a hamburger, fries and a cola.”
Tillie scribbled down the order, then dropped the pad into her pocket. Looking back to Oren, she flashed the same smile she did at every Broadway face she recognized in the diner, except this time it didn’t feel forced. “I’ll be right back with your cola.”
***
Tillie Parker was the breath of fresh air Oren had been looking for when he impulsively turned down a MGM film for a return to Broadway. Her bubbly personality energized him, and her drive to succeed reminded him of why he was back in New York—to find pleasure in his work again.
Life in Hollywood had gotten stale. It was all the same movies, the same parties, the same women. The monotony and excess of it had driven him to the bottle. He’d laid awake night after night, while the room spun and a different woman slept beside him, wishing he could be the bright-eyed, breakout Broadway star he one was—when everything was new and exciting… just like it was for Tillie.
He glanced up from the paper to watch her at the soda fountain. With her long blonde bob, big blue eyes, and bow shaped lips, she had the look of an ingénue. America would fall in love with her once she landed a big role. There was no doubting it.
Tillie would be the perfect girl to have on his arm at parties. He could introduce her to all the movers and shakers while her infectious enthusiasm kept him from the bar. Undoubtedly, most of the women he’d been chasing away since he arrived in New York would leave him alone once they saw, young actress.
But that was all this time with Tillie could ever be. He couldn’t bring a woman into his life, at least, not how it stood now. Not when feared his career might fizzle if he couldn’t find joy in his work again. He was hiding it well—he was a professional actor, after all—but soon he feared someone would notice how listless he’d grown.
When Tillie came back with his soda, he pretended to read the paper. She placed the tall glass on the bar before lifting the lid to the straw dispenser. “Your food should be up soon, now that things are slowing down.”
“Great.” He plucked a red-and-white striped straw from the many fanned out before him. “Do you want to go to a bash with me tomorrow night? It’s an after party for the cast and crew.” With a tip of his head, he gestured toward the paper. “To celebrate the good review.”
With a dazed look, Tillie continued to hold the straw dispenser open. “A party? With you?”
“Of course.” Oren laughed, enjoying her doe-eyed naiveté, then sipped his cola. “You’ll come to the show, and then we’ll go to the party together. What do you say?”
Tillie closed the straw dispenser then smiled. “I’d love to go.”
Oren felt a rush of genuine excitement, not unlike what he’d hoped to feel when he stepped on stage again in New York. “Wonderful. I’ll have a car pick you up at your apartment at seven.”
Her eyes widened. “A car?”
“Of course.” He stood to retrieve his wallet, hoping to find an old business card he’d been slipped at a party and knew he would never need. He took one out and slid it across the bar to her with two fingers. “Jot down your address and I’ll set the whole thing up.”
“I appreciate the gesture, but I could take the bus,” she objected, but she wrote her address down anyway. When she finished, she passed the card back to Oren. He looked at what she wrote.
“On second thought, I’ll have the car get you at six-thirty.”