Desmond picked up a black canvas briefcase and started tossing tapes and papers into it. He went to the small walnut armoire near the bed and opened the door. The top shelf of the thing was lined with little bottles of vitamins and other health-foody-looking items. He studied them for a minute, then turned to her. “Do you think I should take something to increase mental clarity, reduce ambivalence, relax me, or energize me?”

Jane pushed herself off the bed and stood beside him, studying the rows of bottles. “Midlife crisis?” she asked.

He nodded. “Long-term. Care to join me?”

“Why not? Do you have anything for Everything In General?”

2.

She longed for one of those glittering New England autumn days, with blue skies and bright sun and brisk wind, but when they stepped outside, the humidity was so heavy, it could well have been midsummer rather than early October. A few of the trees in front of the stately brick houses along Marlborough Street had started to change color, but given the weather, they looked unsettlingly incongruous. She and Brian had grown up in Chevy Chase and so, technically speaking, were Southerners, although that particular identity was one she’d never been eager to claim; it didn’t fit her image of herself. As soon as she got to Smith, she began telling people she was from Washington, D.C., a geographically more neutral territory. The ruse worked so well, she started moving her childhood north in increments. By the time she entered graduate school, she’d almost convinced herself she’d been born in Connecticut. These days, it seemed as if the weather from her childhood had decided to throw her a curve by migrating north with her.

Desmond squinted up at the sun and put on a pair of bottle-green dark glasses that struck her as unnecessarily stylish. She put her arm through his as they walked along Marlborough Street. “You’re not nervous about this meeting, are you?”

“Not nervous,” he said. “Anxious maybe.”

“Don’t be either. It’s going to be casual.”

“What are we asking for?”

“Tons,” she said. “Major sponsorship of the entire series, the full backing of the station. Two or three million, minimum.”

“That much!”

“If we’re lucky, we’ll get ten grand, which doesn’t sound like much, but as seed money, it’s crucial. Once the station shows its support, I should have no trouble scraping together another fifteen grand for the pilot.”

“Where does that come from?”