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female Lone Ranger was a tribute to Annie, who once told her—with great pride—that her name, Alexandra, meant defender of mankind in Greek. Mother was three at the time, and Annie died shortly afterward, but the memory was one my mother cherished. When she named my new dog Annie, I knew it was a really big deal. So even though Jake and I had never discussed getting a pet, I said, “Oh Mother, a puppy! She’s just what I wanted!” Come on, what would you have done?

CHAPTER 5
    Our apartment building came into sight as the sun was just starting to set. I figured by now Jake would be back home getting ready for the awards dinner, so I took out my cell phone and called to tell him I was on my way. There was no answer on our landline. That was a little strange, but I thought maybe he was taking Annie out for her evening potty break. It wasn’t something he usually did, since he had agreed to keep her only because I said she was my dog and therefore my responsibility, but he could have decided to surprise me. I called his cell. It was turned off. I wondered if he’d started for the awards ceremony without me. I checked my watch; it was way too early. I started walking faster again. There had been a time—when we were first married—when Jake wouldn’t have dreamed of taking off without telling me where he was going and when he would be back. And, come to think of it, I wouldn’t have gone wandering through the park withoutletting him know. We always kissed each other good-bye back then. Back then, when I was a success, and Jake was proud of me.
    MY SUCCESS BEGAN before Love, Max even went on sale. It started with a phone call from Nancy. I’d been running in the park with Annie—yeah, we both jogged in those days—and I came back to find a message on my machine saying that a Hollywood producer was in town and she wanted to take a breakfast meeting with me to discuss making my book into a TV movie. The phrase take a meeting sounded so official and scary that I asked Jake to come along because he had experience with show-business people. That was how we met Andrea Grace. Given everything I’d heard about how young everyone was in the entertainment industry, I expected her to be a baby. But Andy was a year older than Jake, and she was a knockout. Her thick chestnut hair was pulled back into a low bun, and Sheryl would have killed for the name of the genius who’d done her highlights. I would have killed for a figure like hers, without an ounce of fat. Her brown eyes were big and warm, and she was one of those rare women who can make wearing eyeglasses seem chic. When we shook hands she did that two-handed thing that falls somewhere between a shake and a clasp and told us to call her Andy, in a voice that reminded me of old-time movie stars like Greer Garson and Irene Dunne. She asked us to sit.
    “If the producing thing doesn’t work out for you, I’d say you’ve got a career in voice-overs, Andy,” said my husband. She laughed delightedly. That was another of her skills: She was the kind of person who laughed so genuinely at your jokes that you actually got funnier.
    We talked briefly about what happens when a producer options a book. Andy explained that she would put down ten percent of the purchase price—which she would negotiate with Nancy—tosecure the rights to Love, Max . This option would last for a year, during which time she’d try to sell one of the networks on the idea of making the book into a movie. She’d also try to interest a couple of big-name actors. If none of this worked out, the rights to Love, Max would revert to me. If the project was green-lighted , Andy would be my new producer.
    “Of course I’m not promising anything, because this business is a floating crap game, but I really think I can make this happen, Francesca,” she said.
    I was already seeing my name on a credit crawl. Maybe I’d get to go to the Emmys.
    “Now, tell me how you visualize Love, Max the movie,” Andy