“As it happens, I sort of know. I don't usually even see a script because I don't need to, but this one's based on a book I read and really liked a couple years ago. The working title is The Chicago Fire, but the marketing dweebs will rename it. Probably Secret Flames or something. We're moving fast. Only five days on this location, including setup. The rest of the film was done in studios and these scenes will wrap it up. If they're following the book, there should be two parts that happen here. The big scene with the refugees from the fire setting up a sort of camp and then another segment many years after the fire when the heroine comes back, having inherited the land where she was once a penniless, singed widow. It was really a great story. The first part, of course, involves mobs of extras — all doing their best to hurt themselves and come whining to me," she added with a martyred look.

“Who's going to be in it?" Shelley asked. "Lynette Harwell is the lead."

“Lynette Harwell? I thought she was dead!" Jane exclaimed. "She won that Best Actress award for Day of Love and then dropped out of sight."

“Not entirely," Maisie said. "You just haven't been watching grade-B movies since then. She's starred in such memorable films as Killer Women of the Andes, Horror Nite, and something I swear was called Wasted Efforts, which was truly a wasted effort. There must have been another ten or twelve, but I'm glad to say I've forgotten the names. Real doggy films. But I don't believe she's made any movies for the last five years or so."

“Why? What happened to her?" Jane asked. "I saw Day of Love a half dozen times — I just rented it from the video store a month ago, in fact — and she was fantastic. Was that great performance just a fluke, or what?"