“Would you want to come without him? She's a nice girl,” and then Tanya looked embarrassed. She was acting as though she was an unknown actress. “I should probably tell you it's Felicia Davenport, so you don't faint when you meet her. I've known her for years, and she's really terrific.”

“You disgusting name-dropper.” Mary Stuart was laughing at her, she was one of the biggest stars in Hollywood, and she was taking her first stab at Broadway. Mary Stuart had just read about it in the New York Times on Sunday. “It's a good thing you told me before I met her. I would have died, you're right. You dummy.” They were both laughing as they left the restaurant, and Tanya told her she could let her know about the party in the morning. It was at Felicia's rented town house in the East Sixties.

Tanya dropped Mary Stuart off at her apartment then, and she promised to watch Tanya on the show the next morning, and she hugged her tightly as she left her. “Thanks for tonight, Tan. It's so good to see you.” She hadn't even realized how brittle and lonely she was until she saw her friend. She and Bill had barely spoken to each other all year, and she felt like a plant that hadn't been watered. But seeing Tanya had been like standing in a rainstorm getting revitalized again. And she was smiling when she walked into the building with a spring in her step, and nodded at the doorman.

“Good evening, Mrs. Walker,” he said, and tipped his hat to her, as he always did. The elevator man told her Bill had come in just a few minutes before her. And when she let herself in, she found him in the den, putting away some papers. She was in good spirits, and she smiled at him, as he turned to face her. And he looked startled to see her expression, as though they had both forgotten what it was like to have a good time, to be with friends, to talk to each other.

“Where were you?” He looked surprised. She looked like an entirely different person, and he couldn't imagine where she'd been at that hour, in blue jeans.