“It’s time for his nap,” she replied.

“And he’s sleeping, as you can see.”

She glanced at her wristwatch. “And he’s due for a bottle and a change soon.”

“We won’t be long.”

Leon took the baby from me and hoisted him expertly to his shoulder. I led the way up the stairs to the porch and opened the door. I babbled nervously, asking him to ignore the untidiness while Leon wandered around, noting the movie posters, the file cabinets, some with dried red paint on them. He patted the baby’s back rhythmically. He turned to the window and looked out to the ocean, where a late-afternoon banner of sunshine spread itself across the water. “I haven’t been here in thirty years. The view is still the same.”

“You know this place?” I asked, astonished.

“We used to film here—early pictures, silents. Making films in those days was like a party with your friends. You just put everyone in a couple of trucks with some cameras and costumes and went wherever you wanted. No one cared if you showed up in their orange groves, especially if you gave them ten bucks. The beach was free. I bought this place so we’d have somewhere to change costumes and drink. I paid cash.”

“Which films did you shoot here?”

Leon shrugged. “Who can remember the titles? In those days we sometimes turned out twenty or thirty silent pictures a year. You could do a whole screenplay on the back of a paper bag. The talkies changed all that. You needed a script, actual words for the actors to say. But back then, since there was no sound, I could yell at the actors all I wanted while we were filming. Once, we had an orchestra, not a full orchestra, but a bunch of musicians right there on the beach, playing music to get the actors in the mood. It was a comedy, and the actors were building human pyramids on the sand while they played a lot of madcap music. Julia conducted, and the tide came up, and caught her unawares, splashed her, and all the musicians ran away to protect their instruments. The cameras turned on them to catch them all scrambling. I thought I’d die laughing. We all came back to this house to change clothes. We lit a fire and someone went out for sandwiches and beer. Such a fine time. Such good times those were.”

I stood beside him, and looked outside as if actors still cavorted on the beach, Julia energetically conducting musicians, while Leon with a megaphone yelled at everyone and the waves frothed around their feet. “Why didn’t you tell me this when I first moved here?”