Frank stretched lazily and then snuggled back into his covers. He really did not want to get up. He faintly heard the sounds of running water, then came Joe’s purposely off-key rendition of "Rollin on the River", one of Frank’s favorite songs and one of Joe’s least favorite songs. Frank groaned and shoved his head under his pillow.

A mere ten minutes later, he felt a sudden chill. He sat up and glared at Joe, who was holding Frank’s hunter green comforter and sheet in his hands. "What’s the big idea?" Frank growled, making his voice sound grumpier than he really felt.

"It’s time to rise and shine, bro!" Joe announced cheerfully. "The sun is shining, we have tickets for Gershwin, and the two hottest dates in town!" He dumped the covers back on Frank’s bed. "Life is good."

Frank rolled his eyes and fell back with a groan. "You interrupted a great dream."

"That’s what you get for not sharing!" Joe quipped as he went back into his room.

Frank sighed and glanced heavenward with a ‘why me’ expression before going into the bathroom for his shower.

"Becka, this place is a mess!" Mary Nickerson placed her hands on her hips as she surveyed her daughter’s room. There were clothes everywhere.

"I can’t decide what to wear." Becka folded her arms over her chest and looked around. Her newly waved hair was fixed perfectly with little butterfly clips set as a headband. She was still in her robe, with different shirts, skirts and pants spread out across the room.

"It needs to be sort of dressy, but comfortable. And warm." Becka looked pleadingly at her mother. "Help?"

Mrs. Nickerson smiled and looked closely at her daughter’s wardrobe. She then went over to the bed and withdrew a navy blue and burgundy plain skirt that fell about 6 inches above Becka’s ankles.

Becka smiled and nodded approvingly, then went to her closet and withdrew a pair of low-heeled black dress boots, and a two-piece burgundy sweater set. She completed the outfit with the necklace and earring set that Ned had given her for Christmas.

Becka was also a ballerina, although few people in Bayport knew that. Ned was her biggest fan. The delicate gold chain held a tiny pair of en pointe slippers. The earrings were also slippers. At one time she’d had dreams of being a prima ballerina with a major ballet company. But those dreams had been retired two years earlier with a badly sprained ankle. Now, she was passing on her love of ballet as a teacher.

She stood in front of the floor length on the back of her door and smiled at her reflection. Perfect.

"Darling, you look ravishing," Mr. Nickerson complimented from his place in the doorway.

"Thank you, Daddy!" Becka kissed her father on the cheek, then flew down the stairs as the doorbell rang. She opened the door to see Frank standing there, right on time. He was dressed in dark colored dress slacks, with a long-sleeve, button-up hunter green shirt, and a black leather jacket. "Hi," she greeted him.

"Hi yourself." Frank could feel the butterflies starting up again. "Ready to go?"

She nodded, then grabbed her purse. Frank offered her his arm, and they walked across the street to the Hardy’s home, just as Joe came rushing out the door. Frank deftly pulled Becka out of Joe’s way as he barreled down the walk and ran for the garage. "Dad must’ve said yes," Frank remarked.

"Yes to what?"

"Letting us take his car."

A moment later Fenton’s late-model beige Cadillac appeared, with Joe at the wheel. Frank opened the door for Becka and the two slid into the backseat. "How on earth did you talk him into it?"

"Lots of begging!" Joe put the car in gear and eased out onto the street, then headed towards Vanessa’s house. He glanced in the rearview mirror and noticed a slightly puzzled expression on Becka’s face.

"I wrecked my mom’s car the week your family moved in," he explained.

"But he always leaves out the part about spending the night in jail," Frank added. "He was drag-racing."

"I was not!" Joe protested. He clicked on the blinker and slowed down for the turn to the Bender farm. "We were calibrating Chet’s new speedometer."

Becka giggled as the brothers continued to banter back and forth over just what Joe and Chet had been doing.

Just a few minutes later they were at the farm house. Joe parked the car and went for Vanessa. Frank tried to think of something to say, but he came up empty. Why do I always get so tongue-tied around her? he asked himself.

He was saved by Vanessa getting in the car and turning around to talk to Becka. Van was wearing a long black skirt, black boots and a royal blue sweater. The blues in Joe’s shirt complimented Vanessa’s sweater beautifully.

"Let’s get this show on the road!" Joe declared as he backed out of the driveway. It wasn’t long before they were outside the city limits and on their way to New York!

Vanessa kept twisting around in her seat to talk to Becka, and Frank was just content to sit back and listen. Truth betold though, he still had no idea what to say.

The drive into the city was very pleasant. The trees were in their last days of autumn glory. While Vanessa and Becka ‘oohed’ and ‘ahhed’ over the colors, Joe kept up a running commentary on the sports cars that went by. He rattled off the specs for each one, mush like Frank did at airshows.

But then Becka took over for Joe as he pulled even with a brand new Thunderbird hard-top coupe. "Joe, stay next to it!" she begged. Chuckling, Joe obliged as Becka told him all about the T-Bird and its engine, until it exited the Interstate.

"Our next-door neighbor in Mapleton was restoring a ’56 T-Bird," Becka remarked. "He had promised me the first ride."

Vanessa turned. "I thought you lived in River Heights."

Becka shook her head. "They’re side by side. My dad’s office was in River Heights. But if River Heights keeps growing, it’ll swallow Mapleton. The place where Ned met Nancy has already been swallowed by a sub-division."

Half an hour later, they were in the city. Joe carefully weaved through the traffic until he arrived at the restaurant they had chosen. It was a cozy little Chinese place a couple of blocks from Broadway. Fenton and Laura’s first dinner as a couple had been here. Fenton had discovered the place by accident when he caught a thief who had just stolen the money from the register. The owner had insisted on thanking him with dinner on the house. The entire Hardy family were now loyal patrons.

The four teens walked inside, and Frank and Joe were greeted by the owner, whom they simply called Mr. Woo. Neither of them quite knew how to pronounce his actual name.

"Ah, my favorite customers!" Mr. Woo exclaimed. "And who is this?" He nodded at Becka.

"This is Becka Nickerson, Mr. Woo," Frank introduced her.

"Ah, I see." Mr. Woo nodded knowingly, then raised an eyebrow at Frank. Frank was sure his ears were turning red.

They were led to their favorite table, and within half an hour they were eating. Vanessa has chosen sweet and sour chicken, while Becka went with shrimp in a lobster sauce. Frank’s was a Szechwan dish, and Joe’s was just, big, with a little bit of everything.

Frank noticed another group come in and sit down at the booth in front of them. During a lull in the conversation at the Hardys table, Frank’s ears picked up on the other conversation.

"Man, that Whittington is a real taskmaster," one man remarked.

One of his companions huffed. "A slave driver is more like it. I don’t get why Mr. Coleman ever picked him. And the way he treats poor Clancy!"

At that remark, Joe’s ears perked up as well. "James Coleman is the producer of the revue," he whispered softly. "Benjamin Whittington was in charge of arranging the songs and he’s conducting the orchestra."

"Oh I know," the third one put in. "He’s been so unlike himself lately. He’s usually so neat in his appearance, and sharp as a tack. But ever since rehearsals started, he’s been a different man."

Frank and Joe looked at each other. Something about all of this just didn’t set right with them. "Oh, brother!" Vanessa moaned, rolling her eyes, a playful expression on her face.

"Joe looked at his girlfriend. "What"

"I should have known this was too good to be true."

"Vanessa!"

"We haven’t even made it to the theater yet, and you’ve already found a mystery."

"No we haven’t," Joe replied. "Just what could be the beginnings of one. I promise we won’t get involved in anything."

Vanessa looked at Becka, who looked as if she was about to burst into a fit of giggles. "Famous last words, Becka. They’ll come back and bite him. You just wait and see."