Spencer was completely out of breath when he appeared a moment later.

“Sorry,” he said. “So much traffic. I just got off my shift.”

“You’re fine. And you smell like breakfast. How nice.”

Mrs. Amberson went over the setup one more time, possibly for her benefit. Donna had been told that The Heart of the Empire had started production when the lead actress was hospitalized. It needed to be recast immediately, and the chosen actress would start work that week. Eric was playing the casting director. Spencer was the general assistant and would be reading the role of young police detective, Hank Stewart. Mrs. Amberson had acquired a video camera, which would be connected to Scarlett’s computer—the story being that everything that was filmed was being shown live to a room full of studio executives in LA. In reality, the camera didn’t have a battery and the cord didn’t even fit into any of the computer ports.

“The goal,” Mrs. Amberson told Spencer and Eric, “is to keep her going as long as possible. We really want to give people an idea of how much actors have to go through to get a part. And you, Scarlett…”

Scarlett looked up from her efforts to disguise the unconnected video cable with a pile of papers. “…step out into the hall with me for a moment while Spencer and Eric prepare.”

Scarlett followed Mrs. Amberson down the hall, where she scuttled out of the low skylight and onto a concrete ledge outside. Scarlett stayed inside, leaning on the sill while Mrs. Amberson pulled out her cigarette case and lit up.

“I have a surprise for you, O’Hara,” she said. “Guess what you’ll be doing while all of this is going on?”

“Going with you?” Scarlett asked.

“And miss the fun? Oh, no. You’re going to be reading the part of our young victim.”

Scarlett was too stunned to speak. Her refusal came in the form of wide eyes and a backward stagger.

“Half the actresses on these kinds of shows are so wooden that you could build a table out of them,” Mrs. Amberson said. “Donna won’t know the difference. Just read the lines and don’t fall over. That’s all there is to it.”

“That’s not all there is!” Scarlett said. “They’re pretending to be casting people! They’re improvising!”

“So?”

“So…I’m not an actress!”

“Who cares? All improvising means is making things up, which you can do. I’ve seen the way you and your brother bounce things off each other. You’re a natural. Spencer will help you.”

“He can’t teach me how to act in the next fifteen minutes.”

“Leave the work to them. Your part is to sit there and look clueless. Couldn’t be simpler.”

“I can’t,” Scarlett said.

Mrs. Amberson leaned back through the skylight to pluck the wayward curl from its traditional spot in Scarlett’s eye.

“Stop worrying so much, O’Hara. I wouldn’t tell you to do it if I didn’t think you had it in you. Now get down there. I have to go before Donna arrives.”