“No, it was like, a grass fire.” That wasn’t quite accurate, but close enough. “Everybody’s fine. But there’s a fire truck blocking the entrance right now.”

There was some conversation between the two of them. “Can you walk up to the house?” the man asked. “I mean, you don’t have to go through flames or anything.”

“It’s a dirt lane and it’s kind of steep.”

They spoke some more, and then the man said, “It was just an idea.”

I walked around to his side of the car, and he rolled down his window. He had a big square head, like an actor’s, and what I thought of as an ordinary handsome male face, one that would look good in newspapers, handing out checks at banquets. Square chin, wide forehead, and I expect his teeth photographed well, too. I said, “My boyfriend’s helping out up there. I’m waiting for the firemen to move out of the way so I can get our truck.” I didn’t know why I was talking to him. I was curious about him, I guess. Or because he didn’t know me, or anything about me, and I could practice being someone else.

Just then a car came toward us from farther up the hill, and I had to jump back out of the way. “You want to wait with us?” the man said. “Might be safer.”

I know all the usual cautions about getting into a stranger’s car, but he was only technically a stranger, and besides, it would be a really nice car to get abducted in. “Thanks.” I opened the back door and slid into the cool, expensive leather of the seats.

The woman muttered something. I said, “I bet you’re here to see the poet. The lady.”

Larry (it was surely him), put his arm on the seat back and turned to look at me. “You know her?”

“Sure. Everybody knows Viridian. She’s famous.”

“Huh.”

“I went to a reading she gave. It was packed.” I didn’t know if anything I said would make any difference. “People get very excited about her poetry. Passionate, even.”

“Northern California,” the woman said. She waved a hand dismissively. A gust of swooning fragrance reached me.

“Thank you, Maura. So helpful.” Maura turned her elegant neck to stare at him.

We waited in silence. I could make some excuse and hop out of the car if I needed to. Larry fiddled with the air-conditioning, gave up, looked around him at the dark road and hillsides.

Maura sighed. “I don’t think we should barge in on them. They’re probably going through all their burned stuff.”

“It wasn’t that kind of a fire. And they’re expecting us, we’re just late.” Again Larry turned around to speak to me. “It’s been a long day for us. We started out in San Diego.”