mind. As long as her hand was firmly caught in Bev's, she could crane
her neck and look at all the people. Bald heads, floppy hats, scraggly
beards. When her neck got tired, she switched to shoes. Rope sandals,
shiny wing tips, snowy white sneakers, and black pumps. Some people
shuffled their feet, others tapped, a few shifted from side to side, but
hardly a one was still.
When she grew tired of that, she just listened to the voices. She heard
a group of girls arguing nearby. As teenagers, they had Emma's
immediate envy.
"Stevie Nimmons is the cutest," one of the girls insisted. "He's got
big brown eyes and that groovy mustache."
"Brian McAvoy," another corrected. "He's really fab." To prove her
point, she took a photo, cut from a fan magazine, out of her madras
purse. A communal sigh went up as the girls crowded around it. "Every
time I look at it, I just about die."
They squealed, were glared at, then muffled giggles with their hands.
Both pleased and baffled, Emma looked up at Bev. "Those girls are
talking about Dad."
"Ssh." Bev was amused enough to want to relay the story to Brian, but
she was also aware that she was wearing the wig and sunglasses for a
reason. "I know they are, but we have to keep who we are a secret."
"Why?"
"I'll explain later," she said, relieved when their turn at the
elevators arrived.
Emma's eyes widened when her ears popped as they had on the airplane.
For a moment she was terrified that she would be sick again. She bit her
lip, closed her eyes, and wished desperately for her Dad.
She wished she hadn't come. She wished she'd brought Charlie for
comfort. And she prayed, as fervently as a three-year-old could, that
she wouldn't lose her wonderful breakfast all over her shiny new shoes.
Then the doors opened, and the dreadful swaying motion stopped. Everyone
was laughing and talking and crowding out. eying Bev's tug on her hand,
she kept close to her while still fighting the nausea.
There was a big stand with shelves of bright souvenirs, and wide, wide
windows where she could see the sky and the spread of buildings that was
Manhattan. Dumbfounded, she stood still while people swarmed around
them. Sickness passed into wonder.
"It's something to see, isn't it, Emma?"
"Is it the world?"
Though she was as amazed as Emma, she laughed. "No. Only a small part
of it. Come on then, let's go out."
The wind barreled over them, sending Emma's skirts flying up as she
staggered back. But the sensation excited rather than frightened as
Bev, laughing again, plucked her up.
"We're on top of the world, Emma."
As they looked over the high wall, Emma felt her stomach do playful
little leaps and bounces. It was all spread out below, the crisscross
of streets in the canyons made by the buildings, the tiny cars and buses
that looked like toys. Everything ran so straight and true.
When Bev put a coin in a box, she looked through the telescope, but she