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Fourth of July celebration. They’d stayed for a long weekend.
    For the moment, all they could do was cool their heels. A few minutes later, Joanna came out of the doorway, followed by a man pulling a luggage cart. Cordelia charged up to her and gave her the official “Thorn bear hug.” Jane followed with one that was equally welcoming though less bone crushing. Joanna seemed happy to see them, but distracted. As they walked to the Hummer, she kept looking around, like she expected someone to leap out at her.
    â€œThere’re no paparazzi,” said Cordelia, reassuring her. “You can relax. Only a few people at the theater know your schedule.”
    â€œHow was the flight?” asked Jane.
    â€œIs that what you’re driving these days?” Joanna asked as they approached the Hummer. She lifted up her dark glasses to get a better look.
    â€œSure is.” Cordelia beamed and patted the rear end. “Ain’t she a beaut?”
    â€œWhat’s it get? Twenty feet to the gallon?”
    â€œHow come everyone wants to slam my car?”
    â€œEver think about the larger ramifications of the gas crisis, Cordelia? Our dependency on foreign oil?”
    â€œI drive a Mini,” said Jane. “I figure that evens things out.”

    The burly guy pulling the cart loaded the luggage into the back of the Hummer.
    As they were about to get in, something fluttered at them from between the parked cars.
    They all turned as a woman rushed up to the right rear bumper. “Hi,” she said, her eyes cast down. She seemed out of breath. “Can I talk to you for a second, Ms. Kasimir?”
    Jane stepped in front of Joanna. “Can I ask what this is about?”
    â€œI, ah … I was hoping that I could, you know … like … like, see, I’m a freelance journalist.”
    â€œYou want to interview me?” asked Joanna.
    The woman smiled shyly, finally lifting her eyes. “I’m such a huge fan of yours. Maybe even your biggest fan. I realize I’m nobody in the scheme of things, and you’re, like, this amazingly successful celebrity. I’m sure you get asked for interviews all the time by really important people. Maybe this seems ridiculous to you. I wouldn’t blame you if it did. But if you could just give me, like, even fifteen minutes, it would be such an incredible honor.”
    â€œDo you write for a particular paper or magazine?” asked Joanna.
    â€œWell, like I said, I’m freelance.” She tucked one side of her chin-length brown hair behind her ear. “But I’ve had pieces in The Rake. Minnesota Monthly. City Pages. I don’t make a living at it yet, but it’s my dream that someday I will. Everyone should have a dream, don’t you think?”
    Jane noticed Joanna’s eyes flicker. Something the woman said had touched her.
    â€œYes, actually, I do.”
    â€œI’m a good writer. A really good writer, but sometimes I don’t come across well in, like, interviews. I mean, like, sometimes I seem too aggressive, and at other times I’m not aggressive enough. I never get it right. But I know I could produce a piece on you we’d both be proud of. I don’t want to bother you. I mean, just tell me to go away and I will. I’m used to being turned down.”
    â€œWhat’s your name?” asked Joanna.

    â€œHillary. Hillary Schinn. I live in Richfield with my dad. He’s ill and I help take care of him. And then I also have a job. But I’ve got plenty of time to write. I wouldn’t disappoint you, I promise.”
    She was so eager, so earnest, thought Jane. She was attractive enough but didn’t seem like she had much confidence.
    â€œDo you have a card?” asked Joanna.
    â€œNo, but I wrote my information down for you.” Hillary opened her purse and took out a folded piece of paper. “It’s my home number. I have a cell phone, too, which I included.