“The problem,” she said sternly, “is that four people, including my agent, had conversations with me yesterday concerning my low enjoyment level, and it bothered me. I would prefer to receive direction solely from you.”

Simon looked concerned, and the wind almost blew off his hat. “Really?” he said, in an affronted English tone. “That shouldn’t be. I’ll have to have a word with them. Your agent called you about this?”

“My agent,” Suzanne repeated indignantly. “As if I were a child. As if I were difficult to communicate with,” she said, rising to some inner occasion. “I mean, why don’t I give them my mother’s number! Or better yet, call my grandmother! She’s down here, she can stand by and make sure I’m relaxed!”

“That’s it!” Simon said excitedly, snapping his fingers. “This is her! This is the quality I want for your character. Right there, what you’re doing now. See?”

“But Simon,” Suzanne said, trying now not to give him the quality he wanted in her character, “this is not relaxed. This is incredibly upset. If this is the quality, then maybe—”

“Darling,” he soothed her, putting his arm around her and walking her toward the car on the platform, where the crew was waiting to do a rehearsal. “Just be yourself and you’ll be fine. I know it sounds trite, but trust me. I’ll talk to the producers and make sure that what occurred yesterday is not repeated. Now, try to calm down.” He kissed the top of her head.

Rocky came up to Simon. “They need you behind camera,” he said.

“Oh, surely, surely,” said Simon, going around to the other side of the truck. Suzanne made her way to the passenger side of the platform, where Ted helped her up into the car. Bobby Munch came in a few minutes later, and Suzanne filled him in on the entire enjoyment/relaxation saga as the platform was dragged out to a lonely stretch of desert highway where they would spend the next few hours.

When she finished her story, Bobby smiled gleefully. “Telephone call for Suzanne Vale,” he said. “Brrring! ‘Hello,’ you say. ‘Hello, sweetheart, this is your Aunt Lillian in Tucson,’ ” Bobby said in a high little voice. “ ‘Listen, honey, George Lazan called today and mentioned that you didn’t seem to be enjoying yourself. Well, now, I know that it’s harder nowadays to have fun than it was when I was a girl. You know what we used to do for enjoyment, we would go down to the swimming hole and swing in one by one from a tire tied to a rope. Anyway, seems to me that if you want to do this dang fool thing for a living, you might as well try to enjoy it while you’re at it. Well, bye-bye, dear.’ ”