“Did you get the script from my study?”

“No, my agent had it hand-delivered to me this morning. It’s coming to Broadway, and I’ve been asked if I have any interest in directing it.”

“Do you?”

“Let me ask you a question first. Does Peter know that you and I are … friends?”

“No, that’s such a recent event that I haven’t had time to tell him yet.”

“Did you suggest to someone that I direct it?”

“No. Peter told me when the play opened at Yale that there was talk of a New York production, but I haven’t heard anything about it since, until now.”

“Do you want me to direct it?”

“Apparently Peter does, or they wouldn’t have contacted you. My opinion doesn’t enter into it. For my part, if you choose to direct it, I’ll be happy for you both.”

“Then I think I’d like to do it. It’s charming, funny, and, in the end, very moving. I think a play like this—small cast, one set, put into a small theater like, say, the Music Box or the Helen Hayes—could have a long run.”

“May I ask a favor of you?”

“You may.”

“You didn’t see the play at Yale?”

“No.”

“Well, Peter played the lead, and he was very good in it.”

“You want me to cast him again?”

“No, I’d rather you didn’t. That’s the favor I’m asking.”

“Why don’t you want him in the play?”

“Because of what you just said. I don’t want him tied to the long run of a play, even if it’s his play. I want him at Yale, finishing his degree, before he does something like that.”

“I can understand that. All right, if I do it, I won’t cast him. Will he be disappointed?”

“Maybe, I’m not sure. We haven’t discussed it.”

“Perhaps it’s best if I don’t use anyone from the original cast,” Marla said. “They’re all students, and what you’ve just said about Peter probably applies to them, too.”

“I can’t argue with that reasoning.”

“Then I’ll tell them I’m interested, and if the offer is right, I’ll do it.”

“That’s great! Do you want me to tell Peter?”

“No, let him hear about it through channels, then he can have the thrill of telling you. There’ll be time enough later to tell him about us.”

“Peter’s girlfriend wrote the incidental music, and it’s very good.”

“I’ll hear it, and if I like it, I’ll use it.”

“That would make your playwright very happy. In fact, I think you should expect him to insist.”

“Then I’ll try very hard to like the music.” She took a sip of her drink and sat back.

“Everything all right, now?” Stone asked.

“Everything seems just about perfect,” she said. “Ed Abney got what he deserved, I’m not out of work anymore, and, best of all, I’m here with you.”

“Pilots have an expression,” Stone said. “‘Severe clear.’”

“What does it mean?”

“It means that the way ahead is clear of foul weather and even clouds, the air is smooth, and visibility is unlimited.”