“Whatever works.” Lorraine sighed.

In the low Forties they headed west. Fire trucks came racing down the block past them, and screeched to a halt at the end of the block. Flames were shooting out of the windows of the fourth floor of a small apartment building. Tenants were standing on the sidewalk and a crowd was gathering.

A candle situated too close to a curtain had set it aflame. The apartment dwellers had done their best to get the fire under control but finally gave up and roused their fellow tenants.

Lorraine and Clay paused to watch the excitement. The flames lit up the night sky.

A woman near Lorraine gasped. Lorraine turned her head.

“Didn’t I see you on The Darkest Days?” the older woman cried. She had her hair pulled back in a bun and was dressed in a long nightgown that was partially covered by a lightweight bathrobe. Her feet were stuffed into fluffy bedroom slippers.

Lorraine smiled. “Yes, I had a nice part on that last year. I was in several episodes.”

“You don’t have to tell me! That’s my favorite soap opera of all time. They should bring your character back.”

“Do you live in that building?” Clay asked with concern, trying to change the subject so they could make their exit. Now he was really desperate for the money to get a new apartment.

“Yes, it’ll be fine,” the woman answered dismissively. “They’ll get it under control. I’m on the ground floor which doesn’t seem to be affected.” She turned back to Lorraine. “I’m going to write to the producers and tell them I saw you tonight, and they should bring you back—”

Lorraine cringed at the thought of letters to producers.

“—you were so convincing as a conniving you-know-what.” The woman laughed, then pretended to whisper. “I won’t tell them you were wearing ugly but comfortable shoes.” She held up one foot. “I’m just like you, I love for my feet to feel good. I wear these all day at home. I can’t bear to throw them out no matter how ratty they get.”

Lorraine smiled through gritted teeth. “Thank you so much, but please don’t write any letters to the producers. I’m about to start a film and will be very busy—”

“Which one?”

“Lorraine, we’ve really got to be going,” Clay said.

“And who are you?” the woman demanded.

“I’m an actor, too.”

“I’ve never seen you in anything.”

“Oh, you will,” Lorraine said quickly. “He’s so talented. We really have to be going.”

“Please just wait a minute. I want to get a picture with you. Someone around here must have a camera. My mother is not going to believe it…”

48

“D addy, I feel terrible that we can’t find him. No one has,” Alexis said as she hung up her cell phone. She’d called Dodie, who said that there was no news and Chip’s family was getting more and more upset.

“We’ll keep looking, dear,” Conrad promised as he steered the Rolls-Royce past the area on the West Side where the cruise ships docked. “It’s so dark here at night…”