“Jane! What's happened here?"

“I'm outta here," Shelley murmured.

Jane grabbed her friend's sleeve. "Don't you dare desert me," she hissed. Then, dragging Shelley along, she headed for her own house. "Thelma, come in out of the cold!”

Thelma was still sputtering with vicarious indignation when they got into the kitchen. "They're tearing up your whole yard! What happened to your fence? Have you called city hall?"

“Thelma, it's all right," Jane assured the older woman, pouring each of them a cup of coffee. "They're making a movie.”

Thelma scoffed. "In your backyard? Come now, Jane!”

Jane set the cups, along with cream and sugar on a tray and led the way to the living room, where the large back windows overlooked the scene of chaos behind the house. "Not in our yards, in the field behind us. They're using our backyards for the equipment."

“That terrible field!" Thelma sniffed. "I've always said that was dangerous, all that open land."

“I know you've said that," Jane responded. Almost every time you come here, she added mentally. "But we like the field, don't we, Shelley? I'm glad the land developer went bankrupt before the division was finished and left that vacant land.”

Thelma had seated herself with her back to the window, but curiosity overcame her and she set her coffee aside to get up and look outside. "But a movie. . why would somebody make a movie here, of all places?"

“It isn't a whole movie," Shelley said. "Just a few scenes. They'll only be here a few days. And they're paying the homeowners very generously and instal- ling brand-new fences for us when they're done.”

She caught herself and gave Jane a quick, chagrined look as if to say, Why am I apologizing?

“Well, I think it's outrageous, disturbing your lives this way, just to make another film. Probably more of that Hollywood trash, anyway. There aren't enough good movies being made anymore.”