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for herself.
    She stayed in London only two days, and then flew back to New York. Sitting next to her on the plane was an unattractively loud man her own age, wearing a wedding ring, who asked her if she would have dinner with him in New York, and when she said no he spent the rest of the trip trying to make a date with the stewardess. Annabel felt sorry for her, having to put up with him and be polite. She busied herself with her paperwork, looking forward to going home.
    When she walked into her apartment, Emma was there, sitting on the living-room couch, wearing one of Annabel’s robes, freshly washed hair up in a towel, Sweet Pea on her lap, both of them avidly watching an old black and white movie on television. “Emma!” Annabel cried in delight. “I didn’t expect you till next week.”
    They hugged each other. “We’re ahead of schedule,” Emma said. “That’s the only good thing I can say about Wesley Knoll, The Weaselly Troll, he shoots fast. I was going to call you, and then I thought I’d just surprise you. How was Europe?”
    “It was wonderful,” Annabel said. “I want to tell you all about it, and hear all about your job.”
    “I bought food,” Emma said. “And I put a bottle of champagne in the fridge. We’re going to be here a week, and I get the weekend off, which I desperately need, so we can spend a lot of time together.”
    “Oh, good. I have to take the girls from the boutique to dinner tomorrow night to tell them about the trip—I hope you can come too.”
    “I am totally at your disposal,” Emma said.
    “No boyfriend?”
    “Well, of course there’s a boyfriend,” Emma said cheerfully. “But he has parents in Connecticut and he has to go see them. He wanted me to come too, but I said no I wanted to see you. Is it okay if he stays with us here next week? That way he can keep his per diem, because he’s just as poverty-stricken as I am.”
    “It’s perfectly all right,” Annabel said.
    She was already in jeans and a sweater from the plane trip, and didn’t bother to unpack anything except the bottle of perfume she’d bought on the plane for Emma. They opened the cold champagne and sat in the kitchen, drinking it and eating sandwiches, happy and cozy together, just like all the old times. Emma had kept coming in and out of her life unexpectedly ever since she’d left Radcliffe after only one year because she wanted to go to the NYU film school and concentrate on movie making. She had lived with Annabel for a while, met some girls and decided to share an apartment with them because she’d never lived on her own like that; gotten bored with it, lived with a boy she thought she was in love with, got scared when he proposed, and came back to Annabel until graduation; and then off to California, because that was where the work was. Annabel kept Emma’s room ready for her, just in case, and was always overjoyed to see her.
    “Let me tell you about my glamorous life,” Emma said. “I have to go to the set at five in the morning to tell the trucks where to park and tell the extras where to go. It was freezing cold and snowing all last week, and before that we had mud. Weaselly decided he wanted to use real convicts for extras because they were so real-looking. Ex-cons, I mean. I felt sorry for them because they thought they were going to be in the movies, and all it was for them was eight hours of standing around, and get paid thirty-five dollars and good-bye.”
    “Convicts!” Annabel said, alarmed.
    “They were okay,” Emma said, calmly. “At least they didn’t make me get out of bed at two in the morning to go buy a pint of gin for the star, who was shacked up in the local motel with his girl friend. I mean, a pint of gin! Talk about gross …”
    “You had to do that?” Annabel said, more alarmed.
    “I have to pay my dues. I’m aware of it. But I’m twenty-two already, and I’m starting to wonder how long.” Emma grinned, and Annabel realized with a little