“Thanks, Arlene,” Judith said when the two women
were back in the kitchen. “You saved my life. Now I
can get dinner.”
“No need,” Arlene said, opening the oven. “I made
a chicken casserole this afternoon. It’s heating right
now. I put the green salad in the fridge. The homemade
rolls can be heated up in five minutes.”
Judith beamed at her friend and neighbor. “Arlene, I
could kiss you. In fact, I will.” She leaned forward and
gave Arlene a big smack on the cheek.
“It’s nothing,” Arlene said, her expression suddenly
gone sour as it always went when she was complimented for her charity. “I knew you’d have other things
on your mind. By the way, the last guest just arrived.
Serena took him upstairs to his room.”
“The director, Chips Madigan,” Judith murmured.
“I’d better say hello.”
But Renie and Chips were already coming back
down the stairs when Judith reached the entry hall.
“Hey, coz,” Renie called from over the balustrade,
“meet the Boy Wonder of the movies.”
Startled by Renie’s familiarity with the famous director, Judith was even more startled to see the Boy
Wonder. With his red hair, freckles, and gawky manner, Chips Madigan looked like a college freshman.
Half stumbling down the stairs, he grinned at his hostess, put out a hand, and almost knocked over a vase of
flowers with his elbow. He wore a viewfinder around
his neck, which he put to his eyes as soon as he
reached the landing.
“Wow!” Chips cried in excitement. “A great tracking shot into the living room. Bookcases, silver tea
service, lace curtains—this angle reeks of atmosphere.” He let the viewfinder dangle from his neck
and loped over to Judith.
“Hi,” he said with a big smile. “You’re Mrs. Flynn,
right? This is one swell place you’ve got here.” Chips
got down on his haunches, the viewfinder again at his
eyes. “Great elephant’s-foot umbrella stand. It doesn’t
have a bad angle.”
Recalling the critical comments she’d overheard
from some of the other guests, Judith grinned back.
“Thank you, Mr. Madigan. I appreciate that.”
“Hey,” Chips responded, “my mom runs a bed-andbreakfast in Nebraska, right on the Missouri River. It’s
an old farmhouse. I’ll bet the two of you would get
along real well.”
“I’ll bet we would,” Judith agreed. Up close, she
could see that Chips wasn’t as young as he looked. The
red hair was thinning and there were fine lines around
his eyes and mouth. Maybe behind the camera he
coaxed rather than commanded his actors. Certainly he
