"If you want to go to the beach one day, I'd be glad to take you," Spike offered.

"Thank you, but I don't know if be here all that much longer."

"I bet the Livingstons wouldn't mind how long you stayed. You should take advantage."

"I don't want to take advantage of their hospitality," I said, "and besides, I have people waiting for me back in Provincetown."

"People? You mean, a boyfriend?" he asked with an impish glint in his eyes.

"Yes," I admitted.

"What's he do?"

"He takes care of his father's lobster fishing boat right now and in the fall, he'll be harvesting cranberries."

"Sounds . . . nice," Spike offered, but his head was turned in a way that kept me from reading his eyes. Did he mean it? Did he really have a longing for something more substantial than acting or trying to be an actor, or was he just humoring me?

"It is nice," I said defensively. He glanced at me with a small smile on his lips.

"You're too young to cash in your chips and settle down, Melody. Look out there. It's a big, wide world to explore. There's so much to do and see."

Our eyes met. If he wasn't being sincere, he was a good actor after all, I thought.

"So what convinced you the woman wasn't your mother?" he asked finally.

"She comes from the Midwest, Ohio, and she's apparently a lot younger than my mother," I said.

"But she looks like your mother in that catalogue?" "A lot like her. Different hair color, but that's nothing," I said.

"Well, people lie about their age here. It comes with the territory. Hollywood is a young person's world, especially for women, and triple especially for a woman who wants to be a model or in films."

"Really?"

"Absolutely," he said.

"This woman claimed to have a younger sister though, and my mother has no brothers or sisters," I said.

"So? People manufacture their pasts here. It's as if they stepped out of a movie of their own making,"

he continued. "Before you give up, I'd try again. Why don't you try calling her later?"

"I didn't get a phone number," I said.

"She'll be listed, especially if she wants to be an actress or model. She wants to be easily contacted."

I nodded.

"I guess we should get back," I said. "Dorothy wasn't too happy about my shooting off right away as it was."

"Sure," he said. He flashed me one of his warm smiles, took my hand and led me back to the limousine. When he opened the door for me, the people who were playing cards looked up to see who I was and drivers slowed their cars to glance our way.

Everyone here was so eager to spot a celebrity, I thought. For the first time since we had arrived, I actually wished I was one. Was I starting to catch the disease?

When I returned to the Livingston's mansion, Dorothy came rushing down the hallway to greet me.

"What happened? I've been sitting on pins and needles waiting. I should have had Spike call me from the limousine. Weil?" she asked.

"I still don't know anything for sure," I said and explained what had happened and why I was filled with new doubts.

"You poor thing. To come all this way and be so disappointed. Why couldn't that dreadful woman have been there?" she said, bunching her lips together.

"Spike says I should try to call her now."

"He does? Well, I suppose you can do that, too.

But we're going to have dinner in about a half hour.

Philip's already home and getting dressed."

"Dressed?"

"We always dress for dinner. Don't worry. Just put on the nicest thing you have to wear," she said.

"Tomorrow, I'm taking you to Adroni's on Rodeo to get you something fashionable."

"Oh, I really don't think-"

"Remember," she sang, "I get deaf."

I smiled.

"Thank you, Dorothy."

"My sister, the psychic, you should excuse the expression, called before to see if you arrived all right.

I asked her if she was such a psychic, how come she doesn't know the answers to her questions before she asks them." Dorothy laughed at her own joke. I smiled, imagining Holly's reaction. "I forgot all about the little gift you handed me at the airport, so I had to pretend I had looked at it. I did a few minutes ago.

Where does she expect me to wear these things?" she added shaking her head. "Anyway, I told her you would call her tomorrow. She was off to do some sort of hoodoo, voodoo thing."

"Thank you," I said, heading for the stairway.

"I'll be right down."

"Don't worry yourself about the woman, dear. If she's not your mother, you're still welcome to stay here and enjoy Los Angeles for as long as you like."

"Thank you," I called back and hurried up the stairs to my plush room.

It wasn't until I plopped myself down on the bed that I realized just how tired I was. Young or not, I finally realized the time difference. After all, for me it was three hours later than it was for everyone here.

I'll just rest for a few minutes, I thought and lay back, closing my eyes. A sharp rap on my door woke me immediately. I sprang into a sitting position.

"What? Yes?"

The door opened and Alec gazed in at me.

"Mr. and Mrs. Livingston are waiting for you in the dining room," he announced.

"Oh. Oh, I fell asleep! I'll be right there," I cried and hopped off the bed. He grimaced and closed the door.

I splashed cold water on my face, practically tore off my blouse and jeans, and pulled on my dress.

I ran my brush through my hair once and then hurried out of the room and down the stairs.

The Livingstons were at the far end of the long table. Mr. Livingston sat at the end. He was dressed in a dark sport coat and navy blue tie. His thinning dark brown hair was parted on the right side and cut neatly around his ears. He glanced up at me, his hazel eyes sweeping over me quickly before turning downward again to look over the bridge of his narrow, bony nose, under which he wore a well-trimmed mustache.

He had thin lips and a soft, almost round chin.

"Hello dear. I'd like you to meet Philip. Philip, this is Holly's little friend, Melody."

"Hello," he said quickly and flashed a smile that swept across his lips so fast, it was as if someone had turned a light on and off.

"Just sit right there, dear," Dorothy said, nodding at the seat across from her. She wore a black evening dress with puffy sleeves and a frilly, square collar, a pair of teardrop diamond earrings with a matching necklace and bracelet, and at least two more rings than she had on when I had first met her.

I took my seat and Philip looked up instantly at Alec. He moved quickly to begin serving us.

"I told Philip all about your little episode today," Dorothy continued, "and he made a wonderful suggestion. Tell her, Philip," she said.

"You're doing fine," he replied, glancing at me and then at his plate as he drummed his fingers on the table. Alec began serving us bowls of what looked like clear chicken broth with some rice and carrots.

"Philip says this woman has to have a social security number. Everyone has a social security number. He will call the business manager at the catalogue company and check the number to see if it's under her name or your mother's name. Isn't that a wonderful suggestion?"

I nodded and looked at Philip. He began eating his soup.

"Just common sense," he muttered between slurps.

Then he paused, his spoon perfectly still before him, not a tremble in his hand. "Of course, people have been known to produce phoney identification and get a new social security number. We'll see," he added.

"So you see, dear, you don't have to spend any more time chasing down this woman. Just relax and enjoy your visit," Dorothy said.

Philip twisted the right corner of his mouth so deeply it looked like his lips were made of pale pink clay.

"It won't be something I can do overnight," he muttered.

"That's all right. I'll still want to meet this woman," I said.

"Philip thinks that might be dangerous."

"I didn't say dangerous. I said unpleasant."

"Well, that's practically the same thing,"

Dorothy insisted.

He put his spoon down and sat back. Alec moved instantly to remove his soup bowl. I had barely eaten half of my small portion and took two quick spoonfuls when I felt Alec hovering over my shoulder. Dorothy didn't dip her spoon into the cup more than twice, but that seemed to be enough.

A small dinner salad followed, accompanied by the thinnest slices of bread, paper-thin slices that crumbled in your fingers.

Our main course was veal medallions in a lemon sauce, accompanied by string beans and mashed potatoes with a flavor I couldn't recognize.

Everything was delicious, but as I ate, I noticed Dorothy watching me and recalled her warning about eating too much. I could have eaten more, but I stopped.

Philip made little conversation but he was interested in my description of the lobster fishing business and the Cape Cod tourist business. He said he had some clients interested in investing in a hotel chain that serviced the Cape and he was not keen about it.

Dinner was followed by coffee in a silver service and a custard dessert. It had been a wonderful meal and I said so as I thanked them.

"Maybe we should ask Selena to prepare lobster for us tomorrow night, Philip, in Melody's honor,"

Dorothy said as the meal came to an end.

"Lobster's overpriced these days," he grumbled.

How could anyone with this much money worry about the price of lobster? I wondered.

"Oh nonsense," Dorothy said.

"I don't enjoy eating things that I know are overpriced," he insisted.

"I really don't need to have lobster, Dorothy."

"Of course she doesn't," Philip said, nodding.

"She gets it dirt cheap back on the Cape and it won't be as good here. Think of something else," he said.

"I've got some work to finish in my office," he explained as he rose. I realized he was not quite as tall as Dorothy. "It was nice meeting you," he added, nodding as he walked away.

"Philip's the most efficient man I've ever known," Dorothy said shaking her head. "He reviews the household accounts once a month and makes brilliant suggestions to save money. He says he does it for his clients, why can't he do it for himself? I suppose that's true. Well, do you want to find something to read? You can look in our library. I try to keep up with everything. I belong to three book clubs."

"First, I'd like to try to call Gina Simon," I explained.

"Oh. Well then, why don't you use the phone in the parlor. You'll have some privacy there," she suggested.

"Thank you," I said, trying to remember where the parlor was in this big house. She must have read that in my face.

"Just go down the corridor to the third doorway on the left, dear. There's a phone book on the shelf of the small table."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. I'll be in after a while and then we can go to the den and watch some television if you like. Desperate Lives is on tonight. Do you watch it? Philip calls it nothing more than a soap opera, but it's so much more than that, it's . . . just more," she said.