Suzanne was as happy as she’d been in months. “Brrring!” she intoned gaily. “Hello,” she said as herself, then went on, “Suzanne, it’s me, Mary. Now, listen, girl, I been lookin’ after you since you was tiny, and I’m worried about you. This Mr. George Lazan called me, uh huh, he shore did. Says you’re not relaxin’ enough. Suzanne? What are you eatin’? I bet you’re gettin’ too much sugar and not enough proteins and things like that. You know, my Pete, what he do to enjoy himself—now, I know he’s not an actor but he has a lot of tension—often he will take a very hot bath and a cold shower right afterward, and then he’ll . . . Well, you can’t drink, so that might not work for you, uh-uh. All right now, honey, stay warm. Bye-bye.’ ”

“Brrring! Brrring!” Bobby said excitedly. “ ‘Hello?’ ‘Hi, Suzanne? You may not remember me, but I was in kindergarten with you. Louis Bodenfelden? We were in Mrs. Webber’s class together. I threw up scrambled eggs out of my nose one day on the way to the library. On the stairs? Anyway, this guy George Lazan called me. He thought maybe I could talk to you about relaxing in your performance. I don’t know why he called me. He said he tried to reach Mrs. Webber, but she was dead. Anyway, nice to talk to you again. I’ve enjoyed your work over the years. Good luck.’ ”

Suzanne noticed that Simon and Rocky and all the sound guys were laughing, and she remembered she and Bobby were body-miked. Anyone with a headset was in their audience. She tapped insistently on her window. “ ‘Miss Vale?’ ” she said in a low male voice. “ ‘Miss Vale! It’s your pool man, Jeff. Sorry to wake you, but this dude George somethin’ or other called and said you weren’t owning your performance. I told him you always seem pretty relaxed to me, but then you’re usually asleep when I get here. Maybe there’s too much chlorine in the pool. Well, take it easy. I say, shine the old guy on. Later.’ ”

It went on for hours. Between every take there were new calls from people George Lazan had contacted. Suzanne’s dry cleaner, her exercise coach, her gynecologist, an old water-skiing instructor, a camp counselor, both her parents and all of her stepparents, Jack Burroughs, and, finally, the New York critic who had once suggested that Suzanne leave show business, and who now restated his position more vehemently.

“You were wonderful all morning,” said Simon enthusiastically on the way back to the set. “Just a delight, on camera and off.”

Suzanne smiled and blushed. Her entire body ached from laughing. She had to admit she felt pretty relaxed.