“I have perspective,” Steven said. “Walter wants to ruin me, and she wants to help him.”

“That’s not true. It was the wrong arena for you. We know that now.”

“I won’t have her working with him.”

“She wants something meaty. Walter got a good performance out of her the first time.”

“Why are you taking her side? She fired you.”

“It doesn’t mean I stop caring. But I’m not saying this because of her. I’m saying it because I still represent you.”

“How could she think I would okay this? Are we living in a world where women are no longer expected to show deference to their husbands?”

When he said things like this, Bridget always felt like smacking him. She had to wait a moment before responding so as not to yell. In over two decades of working with Steven, she had never raised her voice at him, and now was no time to begin. Not when The Hall Fixation had done so well, not when Neil Finneran was looking upon her with such favor.

“Of course a wife should show deference to her husband,” she said. “But a husband must also show deference to his wife. She did Faye Fontinell. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

“You say it like she was a victim of torture,” he said. “Two million dollars. And you wanted her to do it. The Hall Surprise will be good for her, too, not just me.”

“Yes, but now it’s time to support her in her choice. If it gets out that she’s left this house, that you fought over Walter’s next film, maybe she says something to a friend who talks to the press, you know how they’ll spin it. ‘Steven Weller is domineering.’ ‘Abusive.’ ‘Sexphobic.’ Worst of all, ‘Steven Weller has a secret.’ They’re already watching you closely because of your friendship with Ryan. Which, I advised you, has become a distraction. Given all you’ve been through. If you want to quiet the noise, the proper thing is to let her do it. Show it means nothing to you.”

She looked out at the glassy surface of the pool, crossing one ankle over the other. Steven was not himself these days. In Wilmington, he had not been cautious. There had been many late nights before Maddy came and after she left, when Bridget, Ryan, and Steven were the only ones in the beach house. They would eat and tell jokes and recount stories, and Bridget was a part of it, but then she would give a one-liner and neither one would hear because they were looking at each other. Understanding that a manager needed to give her client space, she would slip out the door, hearing the men’s loud laughter from the windows as she went to her car.

“But they’ll say the same things about me if she does do the film,” Steven said. “I can’t stand making it so easy for them.”

“There’s no reason the content should threaten you. You’re a married man. Three years now. The Weekly Report is old news. The glossies love you two, the fans love that you’re together. She’s on bump watch every week, without a baby.”

“It’s funny you say that.” He had a whiskey next to him on the table. He took it into his hand and looked down at it as if trying to read the cubes.

Bridget sat up in the chaise. “Why is that?”

“She just went off the pill. But now she wants to do this film that insults me. She’s a mess.”

Bridget took out her cigarette case and lit one contemplatively. “Well, there is one way to solve this problem,” she said, and took a deep drag.

“What’s that?”

“The two of you have to get away. Be together. Take her on a vacation before you go off to do Flush.” His next film was set to shoot in Providence, a neo-noir about a criminal poker ring. “Try to remember the love you felt for her when you two were first married. Show her you adore her, respect her. And then tell her to do The Moon and the Stars.”

“I can’t,” he said.

She held the cigarette off to the side, far from her body, so as not to get smoke in his portion of air. “Yes, you can, Steven. You are a confident man. A confident man wants his wife to do what pleases her.”

“I just want her to consider me when she makes decisions.”

“She already has. Say you’ve had a change of heart and give her your blessing. Have a wonderful night together. Show her the depth of your love. You won’t regret it.”

“I have no idea where she went,” he said.

“I’m sure you can find her,” Bridget said. “You’re her husband, after all.”


Kira and Maddy got back from the club at two in the morning. Kira made up the guest room and brought in extra towels, a toothbrush, a washcloth. A gallon of spring water because Maddy had downed too many Seabreezes.

Then Kira sat on the edge of the bed and looked at Maddy. “You’re a strong woman,” she said. “You’re going to be fine.”

“Are you spelling ‘woman’ with a Y?” Maddy asked tipsily.

“You’re going to figure this out. You should be with a man who supports you. And if you decide to be alone, it’s not so bad. I prefer it, actually. No one telling me, ‘Close the window, open the window, let the cat out, leave the cat in, come to bed, don’t stay up late, don’t drink coffee if I drink tea, don’t want sex if I don’t want sex.’ It’s so much easier to be alone.”

“I’m not afraid of being alone.”

“What is it, then?”

“I’m afraid of making a mistake I can’t undo.” Maddy stared at Kira and touched her face, ran a thumb over her lips. It was the only time she had ever seen Kira look truly uncomfortable. “Why not?” Maddy asked.

“That’s not what you want,” Kira said.

“How do you know?”

“Just trust me.”

“I’m all alone,” she said. “I think I’m scared.”

“I know you are,” Kira said, “but you won’t be scared forever. Keep drinking that water.”

After Kira left, Maddy chugged more water and put one foot on the floor so she wouldn’t throw up. She listened to the cicadas. There was a low bookshelf in the corner with rows and rows of plays, and a sling chair, and a carved driftwood anchor lamp. Kira had gotten all of this with her own money. It wasn’t fancy, and it smelled a little of cat, but it was hers. Maddy hadn’t fallen for Steven because of his money, but he had taken care of things for her. And she had let him.

When she’d left Dan for Steven, it had been like removing a speed governor from the mopeds that she and her Potter friends used to ride around. Steven had let her go as fast as she wanted. She had known it all along, accepted it, because she believed that she had talent. Her mission was to act, and if he could expand her audience, then there was no reason to be conflicted about it. That was how she had seen it.

Now it seemed hubristic: the idea that she had a right to be known. Was it the ugly flip side of having had a father who loved her so much, wanted so badly for her to succeed? He had always been interested in the names. The famous teachers and guest lecturers at The New School, the alums who had gone on to greatness. On the street, when they spotted celebs, he had always been starstruck—why, she was not sure. Maybe because he had done theater at Dartmouth and then had to be an English teacher. When she auditioned for famous directors, she would call him to kvell; he craved the stories, the brushes, the proximity.

There was vanity to her hubris, and she was ashamed. It was how she had justified the many gifts Steven had given her: the press, the money, the exposure, the glamour. All of which changed the way that casting directors viewed her when she walked into a room. She had allowed herself to go from Maddy Freed to Steven Weller’s Wife, because Steven Weller’s Wife didn’t have to pay dues.

She had let herself be convinced that she was too special to take the local and instead, she had taken the express. And she had justified it by telling herself her talent was genuine. Capitalized on the association of being with Steven, first as a girlfriend and later as a wife. And when he’d asked her to play Faye, he had been asking her to pay.

But she had paid, and she didn’t owe him this, she didn’t owe him anything. She was going to bump the Mary Cassatt and take The Moon and the Stars. Even if it meant the end of the marriage. In another week, it would be their third anniversary. If the marriage ended and all her money ran out one day, which it surely would, and she couldn’t get work because she was no longer linked to Steven, she would still be all right. She could always go back to hostessing. She knew how to show someone a seat.


Maddy spent the next couple of days hanging out with Kira, running, hiking, and going out to dinners. She met Kira’s circle of friends, actors, directors, musicians, some gay, some not. They were doing comedy showcases or taking acting classes, opening hotel doors or busing tables for rent money.

She had Zack call Tim Heller to get a postponement on the Mary Cassatt, and then call Walter to say she would do The Moon and the Stars. Zack loved the script and thought the role was just right for Maddy, who would get to age a couple of years over the course of the film and show extraordinary range.

One afternoon she was sitting on Kira’s porch when she heard a car pull up the driveway. She came around the side of the house and saw Steven’s Mustang. He was coming toward her.

“How did you find me?” she asked.

“I have connections.”

“Was it Zack? Because I specifically told Kira not to say anything to h—”

“I had an idea or two of where you might have gone.”

“I’m doing Walter’s movie,” she said. “Zack already told him. If you have a problem with it, then we shouldn’t be together. I can’t be married to someone who wants to control me.”