She walked around the studio, her fiefdom, watching her employees scurry around, running to and fro to make sure everything went off without a hitch, and that was no mean feat, given that she’d called everyone at three yesterday to change the theme of today’s live show. She knew that several of her producers and bookers had worked late into the night to put it together. She herself had been up until almost two in the morning, doing research. She’d faxed and e-mailed dozens of the best oncologists in the world. She’d spent hours on the phone, relaying every bit of information on Kate’s case that she’d been able to glean. Every specialist said the same thing.

There was nothing Tully could do. No amount of fame or success or money would help her now. For the first time in years, she felt ordinary. Small.

But, for once, she had something important to say.

The theme music started, and she walked onto her stage.

“Welcome to The Girlfriend Hour,” she said as she always did, but then something went wrong, just stopped. She looked at her audience and saw strangers. It was an odd and disconcerting moment. For most of her life, she’d sought approval from crowds like this, and their unconditional support had buoyed her.

They noticed something was wrong and fell silent.

She sat down on the edge of the stage. “You’re all thinking I’m skinnier in person and older. And that I’m not as pretty as you’d thought.”

The audience laughed nervously.

“I’m not wearing makeup.”

They burst into applause.

“I’m not fishing for compliments. I’m just . . . tired.” She glanced around. “You have been my friends for a long time. You write to me, e-mail me, come to my events when I’m in your city, and I’ve always appreciated it. In return, I’ve given you my honest self or as close as I can without some kind of medication. Do you remember a show from a few years ago, when my best friend, Kate Ryan, was ambushed on this very stage? By me?”

There was a nervous rumbling, a shaking and nodding of heads.

“Well, Kate has breast cancer.”

A murmur of sympathy.

“It’s an extremely rare kind of cancer that starts not with a lump, but with a rash or a discoloration. Kate’s family physician diagnosed it as a bug bite and prescribed antibiotics. Unfortunately, this happens to too many women, especially younger women. It’s called inflammatory breast cancer and it can be aggressive and all too deadly. By the time Kate was diagnosed, it was already too late.”

There wasn’t a sound from the audience.