She had resumed her place in her chair and was smiling. It wasn’t a smug smile or a cruel one. It was knowing and sympathetic. It was the way his grandmother used to smile whenever he placed her gin card on top of the discard pile.

—Now, where were we . . . ? Marcus ventured a little half-heartedly.

—I believe we were talking about favors and jobs.

—Yes. So we were, Miss Ross. So we were. And what exactly did you have in mind . . .?

—I didn’t have anything in mind, Mr. Benton. But as long as you’re asking, I suppose I should take some time to think about it.

She stood and proffered her hand.

—It was a pleasure meeting you, she said and she seemed like she meant it.

Then she walked to the bookcase to collect her things. But as she was reaching for her hat, she paused to study the head of Caesar. She picked it up and tossed it lightly in one hand. She looked back at Marcus with the same knowing and sympathetic smile. She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t need to. For the question was implicit: How much does this weigh, Mr. Benton?

She returned the bust to its place with unnecessary care and picked up the rod and hat.

—Mr. Selznick on the line for you, said the electronic voice.

Miss Ross joined Marcus in looking at the intercom. Then rather than heading for the door, she came back toward him. She leaned the rod against his desk and dropped the hat on top of his motion to dismiss.

—I think you need these more than I do, she said.

And when she walked out, she didn’t yank the door shut behind her. She closed it softly enough that Marcus’s jacket swung at the pace of a pendulum.

Eve

AS FAR AS EVE was concerned, Chester’s should have ushered in a brand-new era of city planning. Plunked on a small paved lot on the corner of Pico and Sepulveda, Chester’s was a coffee shop in the shape of a giant coffee pot—complete with a ribbon of steam that twisted from its spout twenty four hours a day. Other than a bench bolted to the ground by the Sepulveda curb, there was no place to sit, and there was nothing for sale other than a twelve ounce cup of coffee brewed in cream. As the sign over the cash register made clear, the three ways you could get your coffee at Chester’s were sweetened, unsweetened, and somewhere else.