Zanne smiled weakly at James. “I’ve made some inquiries. I should have a name for you soon.”

“Thank you. Seriously.”

“Of course.” All she was doing sitting here was getting in the way of him having a drink when she needed to be researching oncologists. That’s how she could really help. “I’ll be back when I know more.”

She stood and squeezed his arm, about to leave, when his landline rang. They both looked to see who it was.

“The visitor’s cottage,” Zanne said.

He answered it on speaker. “Yeah?”

“Hi, uh, James? This is Dylan. There’s a woman here to see Ted, but she doesn’t have an appointment.”

Zanne looked at her watch. The party would start in ninety minutes. Security would be at the gate in sixty. They’d have to put this on the lessons learned spreadsheet for the events team. One hour was not enough advance time to station reinforcements at the gate.

“Dylan, this is Zanne, I’m here, too. Tell her to call the office and make an appointment or we’ll call the police. We don’t do drop-ins.”

“I did, but she said it’s important. She asked for James first and then she said that she knows Ted personally.”

James screwed up his face at Zanne. What was going on?

“Who is it?” James asked Dylan.

“She said her name is Phoebe Lee.”

16

Phoebe

“Lady, we’re here,” the driver said as they reached the red dot on the map.

At the Sea Breeze, she’d somehow made herself get in the car, and now Phoebe looked out the back window at the nondescript gate of Ted’s estate and considered her options. She had the list of other networking parties that Alicia had emailed her. A meetup of female line producers at a restaurant in Westwood, a happy hour hosted by the PGA at a bar in West Hollywood. But she’d come this far. It couldn’t be for nothing. Tomorrow morning she’d be back in Oakland, helping eight-year-olds with their animatics. This party was her last chance for a real opportunity.