How else to make sense of the kindly Marcus Benton and his out-of-the-blue invitation to a tête-à-tête? With his mussed up hair, wrinkled shirt, and vaguely familiar demeanor, Eve was inclined to like him from the start—but she couldn’t have guessed in a million years what he wanted.

And if, as Mr. Benton began to lay his cards on the table, Eve had any remaining doubts as to the importance of Surprise in the workings of Providence, the Good Lord dispelled them in His inimitable style with the throwing open of a door and the barging in of a latter-day Napoléon.

For despite all the laughs that they had shared over Livvy’s stories from the set, Eve hadn’t really understood what her friend was up against until the Emperor started talking. With his two-cornered hat on his head and his little hand tucked in his coat, he launched into a zingy description of Hollywood full of fifty-dollar phrases like: Titanic personalities and innermost humanities. Clearly, he was partial to a full-blown soliloquy, but it didn’t take long to get the gist of his message: that his irreplaceable genius was under constant threat from the essential fallibility of those in his employ.

Mr. Benton (who had obviously heard versions of the speech before) let his attention wander toward the rays of light that angled through the window shade. Somewhere outside a bird marked the dwindling day with a warble, which seemed to provide him momentary relief from his employer’s oratory, presumably by recalling some afternoon in a distant and more sensible time.

As Napoléon began to elaborate for no one’s benefit but his own, Eve felt a surge of sympathy for Mr. Benton. He suddenly had the look of a stranger in his own office. And that’s when she realized why his demeanor had seemed so familiar: It was the same as her father’s. Sitting behind their well-meaning piles of paper in their well-appointed offices, they both had good reason to let their minds wander.

Napoléon was standing now. He summed up smartly, took Eve’s hand, and then disappeared through the door, drawing the curtain on the conversation that he hadn’t been invited to in the first place.

•

WHEN EVE EMERGED FROM Mr. Benton’s office a few minutes later, rather than return to the Packard she headed straight for the back forty to find Olivia on the set. In a few hours they would be meeting for dinner at the Tropicana, but Eve couldn’t wait to relay this turn of events. On the rolling lawn that rested gracefully between the majesty of Tara and its fields in high cotton, Eve would describe her meeting with Napoléon word-for-word, and Livvy would bust her bustle with laughter.