“It was a bunch of Hollywood types,” Donna said. “They were trying to make a new late-night show. Something very sharp, very hip. They wanted ten players—ten of the sharpest, funniest, most versatile that New York had to offer. Rick, Amy, and I were all selected to go in for the first audition, which was three hundred people.”

“We all made it through nine rounds, down to the last twenty,” Mrs. Amberson said. “The producers seemed to love the chemistry among the three of us, and we were all sure, in our gut, that we had made it together into the group that was being sent to California. There, the final ten were going to be chosen. They said they were going to make their calls over the course of a week. That was a Saturday.”

This is where they both stopped, showdown-style.

“Would you like to continue, Donna?” Mrs. Amberson asked. “I’m sure you remember what happened next.”

“Of course I do,” Donna said, unperturbed. “Rick got his call on Monday night. I still remember the three of us sitting around the kitchen table, knowing that it was happening. We were going to go off to California together and be stars. And then you and I waited. And waited. And waited.”

“This was before cell phones, O’Hara,” Mrs. Amberson explained. “Or even answering machines, really. To make sure we didn’t miss the call, one of us was in the apartment at all times. When we heard nothing by Wednesday, I was feeling horrible and sick, and Rick went out and brought home this.”

She pointed stiffly in the direction of the cigarette case.

“Remember how I told you someone knew it was right for me, like he’d read my mind? Of all the objects in an entire city, Rick knew this was the one I wanted. I remember being so amazed, so in love, and my hope came back.”

“That?” Donna said. “You…”

“I will take over from this point, thank you.” Mrs. Amberson had gained total composure, and almost seemed glad to be telling her story. “Donna got her call on Thursday afternoon. There was one more day. I waited, never left the house, but the call never came. Three days later, in the bitter cold, they went off to California for the final round. My boyfriend and my best friend. I remember going with them in the cab to the airport in the snow, crying as the plane took off. I was so happy for them, and so heartbroken at the same time.”

“We got to California,” Donna jumped in, “and called Amy right away. We called her whenever anything happened. Over the next week, we were put through endless improvisations, interviews, and test screenings. They tried us in all the possible combinations. For me, it didn’t work without Amy there.”

“Oh, spare me…”

“Rick performed well,” Donna forged on, “but I didn’t. At the time, though, I didn’t really know what the problem was.”

“Lack of talent, I think,” Mrs. Amberson said. “I was so proud of Rick. I was bursting. I planned to make my own move out to California to be with him and try to start my career there. But in the meantime, as luck would have it, I got a call offering me another part. On Broadway. Not a lead, but a good, solid part. Actors need to take work when they can get it, so I accepted. I told Rick I would be out to LA as soon as I could.”