The Calculating Stars (Lady Astronaut, #1)(47)

The soundstage was brilliantly lit. They’d given me a quick tour earlier, and the assistant now led me onto the fake back porch of Mr. Wizard’s house. 43, 47, 53, 59, 61, 67, 71 … This would just be a conversation with a man I knew from the war. If I didn’t think of him as Mr. Wizard—if I could remember him as Captain Don Herbert—I’d be okay. I just had to talk to him. Only him.

Beyond the door, someone said, “We’re live in five, four, three…”

Live broadcast is go.

Confirmed live broadcast.

I pressed my hand against my stomach and breathed through my mouth. Don was a good man, and there wasn’t a live audience. It would just be him and the child actor. Goddamn it. Why had I said yes?

The assistant—he’d had a name, I should know his name—held his clipboard and nodded to the stage. That was my cue.

Beyond the wall, Don was talking, waiting for me to walk through the door. I just had to open the door. The knob was right there. Get it together, Elma. If your father could see you, standing here trembling in the dark …

The assistant solved my problem by knocking on the door.

On the other side of the fake wall, Don said, “Come in.”

And then my mother’s voice sounded in my head. Shoulders back. Head up. You’re a young lady, not a camel.

Shoulders back, head up, I opened the door and walked onto the stage. Don was standing by a kitchen counter with his shirtsleeves rolled up. A young girl, no more than ten, stood at the counter with him, in a cherry red skirt and snug pink cardigan. Her glossy brown hair had been smoothed back from her face in ways that wouldn’t have lasted five minutes when I was a child.

Don had a model airplane in his hands as I entered. “Well, look who’s here!” He set the plane down on the counter and turned to the little girl. “Rita, this is my friend Elma York.”

“How do you do, Mrs. York?”

He held up a finger. “Actually, you should call her Dr. York—she’s a doctor, but not a medical one.”

“Gee, really?”

My eyes stung a little. He hadn’t told me he was going to do that. “I suppose that’s right. I have doctorates in physics and mathematics from Stanford. But most people just call me Mrs. York.”

“Well, you’re Dr. York today, because I need your help with some physics.” He picked up the plane again. “I was just trying to explain aerodynamics to Rita, here.”

“I’d be happy to help with that.”

As I walked to the mark they had chalked on the floor for me, Mr. Wizard leaned down to Rita again. “You see, Dr. York is also a pilot.”

Rita smiled like a consummate child actress. “Keen! She’s the perfect person to help me understand how airplanes fly.”

“And rockets, too.” Mr. Wizard grinned. “But more on that later. For now … let’s look at the wing of an airplane.”

*

Nathaniel had my overnight bag in one hand as we walked up the stairs to our apartment. He swung it to the side when we passed the bottle blonde from 3B. She was tottering down the stairs in heels and bright red lipstick, which suggested a night out. She smiled at me. “Saw you on television last night.”

“Oh. Um.” I gripped the banister and smiled vaguely at her. Did you say thank you for that?

“I didn’t know you were so smart!” Her front teeth were stained with smoke, though God knew how she could afford both tobacco and rent.

“Thank you?”

Nathaniel took a step back down toward me. “I’d better get her home. She just got back from Chicago.”

“Chicago! That must have been something.”

I edged past her. “I hardly saw it at all. I went to the television studio and then straight home.”

Turning on the stairs to watch me, she clasped her hands together and just beamed. “To think, I know someone who’s been on television.”

Know me? We lived on the same hallway, but I had no idea what her name was. We just saw each other on the stairs sometimes. “I can hardly believe it myself.”

“What was it like?” She took a step up to follow me.

Nathaniel put a hand on my arm and sort of drew me to him. “Now, I’m sure you ladies could talk all night, but I haven’t seen my wife in two days. We’ll talk to you later?”

“Oh, sure!” She giggled. “That would be swell. Good night!”

With a “Good night” of our own, we escaped onto our floor. Nathaniel glanced over his shoulder and rolled his eyes at our neighbor. “Was I right that you needed an escape?”

“God, yes.” I kept my voice low, because sound could echo down the stairwell. “Do you know her name?”

He shook his head. “I was hoping you did. We’ll check her mailbox tomorrow. Tonight, though … I’ve missed you very much.”

“Likewise.” I leaned over to peck his cheek as he fumbled with the keys. “How shall I make up for being gone?”

“Hm…” He turned the key in the lock, and pushed the door open. “I was thinking more of ways to convince you to stay home.”

“It was just two nights. Can’t you—” The phone rang. “Bother.”

Nathaniel flicked the wall switch. It clicked. The room stayed dark. “Sorry—must have burned out.”