Zanne—Phoebe knew that name. The woman she’d met this morning at the conference. She worked here? For Ted?

Every now and then, when she couldn’t help herself, Phoebe Google-stalked Ted. So she knew where his children went to school, she knew about Holly’s quasi–art career and which charity boards she sat on. Phoebe knew that Todd Trout (talk about failing upward) had replaced her in 1999 as Ted’s right hand but hadn’t received a producing credit on The Starfighter 3—that honor had gone to that dope Vic Henry. Todd’s name came at the end of the roll, Assistant to Mr. Stabler. After Todd, there’d been an Anna and a Matthew and most recently Dawn Carter. Phoebe plugged the name Zanne into IMDb. It was an unusual enough first name that there were only a few entries suggested, but none of them appeared to be this Zanne. She had no credits like the others.

The other young man came out from behind the counter with a glass of sparkling water and a cloth to wipe down the accent table next to the wicker love seat in the waiting area. Compared to the shaggy-haired guy, this one was neat as a pin and humming with anxiety.

“I love your dress. Are you thirsty?” he asked Phoebe.

“Oh, no thank you,” she said. She was still standing. She would not be seated when James and Zanne arrived. She would not cede the upper ground.

“In case you change your mind, then. I’m Tom. If I can help you with anything, just let me know.”

He had a bit of an accent, Texas maybe, and a vine tattooed on his ring finger. Phoebe could tell he’d been different his whole life, like her.

“What a beautiful tattoo,” she said, pointing to it.

“Thanks,” he said, his shoulders, his lips, and the corners of his eyes all curling up. Phoebe felt like she’d rung the bell on the world’s quietest high striker. “My husband and I got married in Napa last September, but we didn’t want to do rings. Blood diamonds and all that.”

“Us either,” Phoebe said, and she showed him hers, an inked outline of the peaks of Dobongsan. They did actually have rings, simple bands they’d given each other during the ceremony. But Malcolm took his off a lot for work, his fingers stained with plaster and resin, so on their one-year anniversary, they got the tattoos. Phoebe decided she liked the ink band better and kept the gold one in the top drawer of her dresser at home. “It’s a mountain in Korea. My husband designed it.”

“That is seriously amazing,” Tom said. “Britney, you have to come see this.”