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way.“
    “Maisie, I was counting the people on the crew list. There are over a hundred of them and it doesn’t include a single actor! That’s amazing. I had no idea it took so many people to make a movie. But isn’t it awfully wasteful? When I was roaming around earlier, there were a lot of people just sitting and doing nothing.“
    “Like me right now? Well, it’s a hurry-up-and-wait kind of business. Everybody’s an expert in their special, narrow area and when they are needed, they’re needed desperately. But the ones who are sitting and doing nothing at any given moment are on instant call. We all have to be poised to do ‘our things’ at a second’s notice.“
    “Sort of like a mother,“ Jane said.
    Just then a young woman in jeans and a denim jacket approached with a clipboard. “Are you Mrs. Jeffry from this house?“ she asked briskly.
    “Yes.“
    “I just wanted to let you know that we’ll be breaking for lunch in ten minutes and you can let your dog out for an hour if you’d like.“ With that, she made a check mark on her clipboard and moved on up the block.
    Maisie grinned. “As I said, there are a lot of very specialized jobs.”
    Jane went indoors to get Willard, whose fear of the dog run had come back full force. She had to put his leash on him and lure him with a piece of lunch meat to get him out the back door and then he stopped dead in horror at the sight of all the people in his yard. She hauled him to the pen and left him cravenly glued to the inside of the gate to the run while she went next door to put Shelley’s yappy little poodle into its run. By the time she’d dealt with all the livestock, she returned to her own yard to find another table being set up.
    “No, no. Not in the shade,“ Lynette Harwell was saying to three young men who were trying to get the table placed to her satisfaction.
    Jane was fascinated by the sight of the movie star. Though Jane knew Harwell to be her own age, she looked like a slip of a girl in her old-fashioned costume and blond hair done in an artfully disarranged braided coronet. Even the slight smudges of makeup soot on her face were placed so as to emphasize her enormous blue eyes and high cheekbones. She looked absolutely stunning and not quite real.
    Jane had always imagined that unearthly beauty of some stars was a camera illusion and that in the flesh, they would look like normal people, but this was obviously wrong. Lynette Harwell was awesomely beautiful. Jane edged closer to the group surrounding her, a group including an adoring Mike Jeffry, and she was pleased to see that there were faint lines of age in the star’s gorgeous face—tiny lines radiating at the corners of her eyes, a hint of the softness that precedes crepeyness on her throat, and the merest suggestion of the onset of a sagging chin. But these signs of aging only added character to the astounding beauty rather than detracting from it. Still, when you got close to her, it was clear that she was forty, not twenty—as her role demanded she look.
    And as Jane gawked at her, Lynette turned to Mike and whispered something to him with an intimate smile that chilled Jane to the core, especially when she saw Mike’s reaction. He grinned, looked at his feet, and all but scuffed his toe in the grass in pleased embarrassment.
    She’s playing mind games with MY child, Jane thought furiously. That her “child“ was eighteen and had always been remarkably self-sufficient made no difference. She’d have felt the same if he’d been a fifty-year-old “Captain of Industry.“
    “Yes, just there is perfect,“ Lynette was saying, sweeping forward to take her place at the table. Like Queen Victoria, she didn’t look back to see if a chair was in place, she just sat down, confident that someone had taken care of it. Which they had.
    “I’ll get your lunch,“ Mike said. “What would you like? The menu on the catering truck said prime rib or grilled shrimp.“
    “No, no! I will