She led Darcy into a screening room and introduced her to Joan Nye, a pretty blonde who didn’t look more than twenty-two. “Joan does the obits,” she explained. “She just finished updating an important one and asked me to take a look at it.” She turned to Nye. “I know it will be fine,” she added reassuringly.

Joan sighed. “I hope so,” she said, and pushed the button to start the film rolling.

The face of film great Ann Bouchard filled the screen. The mellifluous voice of Gary Finch, the Hudson Cable anchorman, was properly subdued as he began to speak.

“Ann Bouchard won her first Oscar at the age of nineteen, when she replaced ailing Lillian Marker in the 1928 classic Perilous Path…” Film clips of Ann Bouchard in her most memorable roles were followed by highlights of her personal life: her seven husbands, her homes, her well-publicized battles with studio executives, excerpts of interviews throughout her long career, her emotional response to receiving a lifetime achievement award: “I have been blessed. I have been loved. And I love you all.” It was over. “I didn’t know Ann Bouchard died,” Darcy exclaimed. “My God, she was on the phone with my mother last week. When did that happen?” “It didn’t,” Nona said. “We prepare the celebrity obits in advance just the way the newspapers do. And we regularly update them. The farewell to George Burns has been revised twenty-two times. When the inevitable occurs, we just have to drop in the lead. The rather irreverent name for the project is the Toodle-oo Club.”

“Toodle-oo Club?”

“Uh-huh. We do the final portion and say toodle-oo to the deceased.” She turned to Nye. “That was terrific. I’m positively blinking back tears. Incidentally, have you answered any new personals?”

Nye grinned. “It may cost you, Nona. The other night I made a date to meet some jerk. Naturally got caught in traffic. Double-parked my car to rush in and let him know I’d be right back. Rushed out to find a cop ticketing me. Finally found a garage six blocks away and when I came back-“