Once she got started, she couldn't put it down. Eli's thesis didn't read like any academic paper she'd ever read or heard of. Certainly, there were some obscure words and notions, as well as a few inscrutable theoretical patches written in the densest Academese, but it otherwise read as clearly and cleanly as any thriller or mystery novel.

Which is what it truly was. The thesis was long, nearly two-hundred pages, and analyzed portions of a thirteenth-century manuscript called Regensburg IX, for want of an actual title, which purported to chronicle the existence and activities of an ancient demon, or angel, that had dwelt upon the earth for many ages.

The first third of the thesis dealt with the manuscript itself, its history and its provenance, and that part was a thrill all its own. The anonymous work had been penned by a single hand, yet it was in three languages, and its style suggested no fewer than three authors took part in drafting it. The parchment on which it was written carbon-dated to somewhere in the thirteenth century, but its language, style, and diction absurdly suggested both a much earlier and a later date of composition. The story of the manuscript's ownership was downright notorious. Over the last eight-hundred years, it had been in the hands of a veritable murder's row of priests, princes, pagans, and patricians ... and even one wealthy nineteenth-century pornographer.

The subject matter of the manuscript was even more bizarre. According to Eli, it was one-part memoir, one-part interview, and another part a diatribe against the political order of the day and the heavenly order of the universe. Much of the story it told, in the voice of the angel/demon, was a history of the universe deeply at odds with the traditional Christian cosmology. It was fantastical and beautiful, both at the same time, and all of it thrilled her. Parts of it troubled her deeply.

She spent the better part of a day and night going over the thesis, spellbound, and, during the next weeks, went over it all again and again. She even dragged along her tablet to Vancouver and reread it in the slow moments during her three days on set. It filled in all the cracks in her life, the moments in which she had nothing else to do, few though those were at that time.

When she wasn't messing about with Eli's scholarly writing, her life had otherwise been a whirlwind. Nearly all her furniture was gone, auctioned off at a price she thought low but with which she was satisfied. She already had considered and rejected offers for both of her homes, had built a tentative budget for her life in the country, and had even developed some ideas and plans about how she might make her future living.

During that time, she thought of Eli often but scarcely saw him. Though they spoke on the phone or via text almost every day, her schedule and his hadn't coincided, save for a single short visit for coffee ten days before. It was why she was so excited to see him today. She was so eager, in fact, she could scarcely stand in one place.

And, yet, when he arrived at just before 7:00 in the morning, she met him in the driveway with the greatest dignity and aplomb she'd ever mustered. She was proud of herself for it and even had the fortitude to tease him casually after she tossed her bag in the back and took up her usual seat on the passenger side. They were taking another trip to the greater Lompoc metropolitan area.

"Hey, old guy, you heading to Lompoc?"

"I am, and I'm a registered sex offender. Want some candy?"

"Thanks, just the lift this time." On an impulse, she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. For a moment, she thought he might turn into the kiss, but he didn't.

"Things must have gone very well in Vancouver."

"What? Can't I just be happy to see you?"

He said nothing, only smiled.

"Okay," she admitted. "It went really well ... really, really well."

"Go on."

By this time, they were out of her drive and on the road.

"I was queen for the day." For no apparent reason, she felt a little embarrassed. "The dress they poured me into was actually very classy, and the bar was definitely upscale. They even changed the credit ... not to 'woman in bar' but to 'beautiful woman in bar.'"

"Of course, they did. But I'll gloat later."

"Yup, but that was not the queenly part. The entire scene was one single long shot, with lots of moving around, numerous characters coming in and out of frame, and scads of background noise. Julien wanted to do the full seven and a half minutes with one moving camera and with no breaks ... and, ugh ... it was just me and the lead for the last half."

"Nervous?"

"Eli, you have no idea ... but, oh my God, we nailed it on the first take. Everyone was so happy." She began doing her arm jig. "They were all dancing around, laughing, and patting me on the back."

"Is that normal?"

"No, it's not, but they'd budgeted five days just to shoot that single scene. It was sort of pivotal. One missed line or one character off the mark, and everyone would've had to start from the beginning. We hit it on the first take. I didn't find out until later, but the scene they shot immediately before that needed twenty takes. That's why everyone was so happy." She felt herself blush ever so slightly. "Julien said I made him look good. I guess no one else thought that scene would work."

"So, when can I see this masterpiece in my neighborhood theater?"

"Believe it or not, by early Summer. Julien is a workhorse, and there aren't any complex special effects to slow up post-production. Just a couple of car chases and one or two shoot outs." She reached over and flipped his lock of hair. "And did I mention? It's a spy movie."

"Oh, please ... I hate those."

"Julien wants to meet you sometime."

"Ohhh ... Kate."

"It'll be alright. He is a really nice guy, very down to earth. There'll be no seduction involved this time."

"Okay, then, I'll meet him ... for you. But you have to pour yourself into that same dress."

"Oh, I've got one better than that." She caught herself biting her lip as she smiled.

"How's everything else?"

"Good. Busy. I've had a couple offers on the houses, but nothing worth considering. Um ... downsized my household. I read this beautiful academic work that was both exciting and unnerving." She glanced over to see if he'd take the bait. No. "Oh ... I think I know what I want to do with the rest of my life."

"Excuse me ...."

Pulling up a leg, she half turned in her seat to face him.

"I found this video online of a guy flying. It was incredible ... I mean, I about pooped myself. Except he wasn't flying. It was just some special effects a group of kids put together. It was sort of a let-down, until I followed the link back to their website and began looking over other things they did. These three kids are talented. After I looked over their website, we exchanged a few e-mails and talked on the phone. I'm meeting them next week for lunch to see if we all might be interested in doing a short film together."

"You're kidding me. Is that how such things are done?"

"Eli, you know what, I think that's how things get done these days ... at least they will be from now on. I've been looking around. What a couple of kids with a digital video recorder and a home computer can do these days would amaze you. They've already put one short together. It's rough, but it shows promise."

"And with a little professional guidance?"

"Yeah," was her enthusiastic reply, "why not? I mean, I know how a movie is produced, I know my way around a movie set, and, even more, I know acting and how to scout for talent. It's what I've always wanted to do. I mean, I don't want to be a dealmaker ... not like Otto was. I want to make movies. And a person doesn't need a three-hundred-million-dollar budget and a studio full of suits to do that."

"Do you think you can work with these kids?"

"I guess I'll find out. The question is whether they want to work with a washed-up old actress .... I know, I know ... I'm not washed up or old."

"As long as we're straight on that."

"What have you been up to," she asked teasingly, "pining for me?"

"A little bit," he said, smiling back at her with the same tease. "I've been cyber-stalking you."

"The fuck ...?"

"I was doing my typical Internet stalking thing and found a reference to you in an online trade mag."

"Get out," was her hushed reply.

"Nope. Some reporter up in Vancouver wrote a short piece on your film, and your name came up once. He didn't have much to say, except, and I will quote ... 'her ethereal beauty undiminished by the years.'"

"Oh, my God," she whispered into her palm. "Did you pay him? No ... what was the reporter's name? Was it Noyce?"

"Mm-hmm."

"I thought I saw him on set. He was sort of stalky back in the day ... but pretty much harmless."

"As long as the little prick knows that's my territory."

"What? Me? ... Oh, you mean the stalking? Ha! I had a stalker once, Michael Wayne Farragut. What a weirdo. I wonder what happened to him?"

"You sound like you miss him."

"Well ... it was creepy and a little scary. But having a stalker was de rigueur back then."

"So, he was a fashion accessory?" Eli honestly seemed perplexed.

"You must think I live in a city of dysfunctional misfits."

"Yeah, the fact that you might feel nostalgic for your stalker. If it makes you feel any better, a man with three names probably moved on to grander obsessions."

"He once masturbated on the hood of my car."

"See. Only one direction to go from there."

Their teasing and yakking was much the same throughout their trip, with one gaining the upper-hand in the dialogue, and then the other. It was their typical.

She realized she'd missed him terribly, had spent nearly as much time thinking of Eli recently as she had worrying and fretting over Flying Guys and things that go bump in the night. Even more, the last few weeks had shown her how delusional she'd been on that score. Kate was falling for Eli, had been from the beginning. And she was astounded at all the lies she'd told herself to hide that fact only half as much as she was astounded that she'd been silly enough to believe any of them.

But who could say? Maybe that whole mess, all the self-delusion, was just a way of protecting herself. Eli—gorgeous, celibate, formerly licentious Eli—liked her, enjoyed her company, thought of her as a pal, but obviously didn't fancy her.

Well, that's life, dummy, came that tiny voice. Make the best of it. Eli had rapidly become something important in her life, her best friend. She wasn't such a fool that she didn't see how precious that was, and she promised herself not to screw it up.