She liked being independent of the family money, although she admitted that she had paid for her house out of her inheritance from her mother, but it had been a great investment, and was now worth two or three times what she had paid for it. Between what she had on her own, and the handsome salary Tallie paid her, along with a constant flow of complimentary gifts and perks, Brigitte lived a golden life, better than Tallie in many ways, or at least it looked that way.

Tallie was naturally more discreet, although she had grown up comfortable too, but not on the scale that Brigitte described her childhood. Brigitte went to see her family from time to time, and always complained about it when she did. She thought San Francisco was dreary, still hated her stepmother, and hadn’t gotten along with her father since he’d been married to her. Tallie had been her family, the one she really cared about, for seventeen years, and Tallie felt the same way about her. Brigitte had become the sister she’d never had, and a benevolent adopted aunt for Max, who adored her, and told her everything about her life as she was growing up, sometimes even more than she did to her mother, particularly if Tallie was busy or on location with a film.

Tallie got into the passenger seat of the flashy Aston Martin, put on her seat belt and settled back against the seat. She’d been on the set since five o’clock that morning and suddenly realized how tired she was. They had handed her new script changes just before she left, and she took them out to read them on the way, but she was exhausted as they drove off the set.

“Why don’t you just sleep?” Brigitte suggested. “You can read the changes tomorrow morning. I’ll drive you back. You don’t have to read them tonight.” Tallie was unfailingly conscientious.

“Thanks,” Tallie said gratefully. She couldn’t imagine what her life would be like without Brigitte to do everything for her, and hopefully she’d never have to try.