Lynn closed the door behind her and let her eyes wander over the living room and kitchen. She'd been fairly certain she would come home to find Blanche knitting away under the floor lamp next to one of the sofas. When she looked farther into the gallery, she was intrigued to find a light on in her own room rather than the other woman's.

Lynn crept through the living room and into the gallery, her inbred sense of adventure willing her to keep silent. She should have known her stealth would be no match for the actress's trained, keen ears.

"Lynn, darling," Blanche's sweet tone sounded from the room even before she had reached the doorway. Lynn stood, leaning against the door frame, and observed curiously as Blanche pushed a drawer closed in her chest of drawers and turned to face the door with a fairly guilty expression on her face. "I'm sorry," she began timidly. "I shouldn't be in here. I didn't mean to pry." Her apologetic tone amused Lynn; she'd have never made a scene of finding the older woman in her room, never mind how unusual the prospect was.

"It's okay," she said quickly and reassuringly.

Blanche still looked very troubled, but her shoulders had fallen slightly in relief at Lynn's calmness about the situation—she was completely different from Jane. "I was looking for a family photograph of yours," she explained, clasping her hands together in her lap. "To… To confirm something."

"And what's that?" Lynn queried as she crossed the room swiftly to where Blanche was seated, dropping her purse on the bed when she passed it. She could see now that the actress really was upset about something, and it seemed to Lynn that it was definitely something more serious than being found sneaking around in her maid's room. Blanche didn't reply until Lynn had pulled out a small framed photograph hidden, until then, very skilfully behind another picture and a table mirror.

"And is this all of your family?" Blanche enquired before looking down at the photograph Lynn had placed in her hands. Lynn could see the older woman's eyes widening as she studied the people in the picture.

"Yes. Why?"

Blanche tore her eyes from the photograph and looked up at Lynn's inquisitive face. "Who is this?" she asked, pointing at a young man standing next to Lynn's mother in the picture. "He wasn't here on Wednesday."

Lynn felt mortified to see whom Blanche had pointed at. She had been hoping to never have to tell the actress this bit about her family.

"No; we thought it best not to bring him," Lynn admitted evasively. "That's Dan—my youngest brother." She was hoping desperately that Blanche would just leave it at that; however, her own curiosity got the better of her. "Why do you ask?"

Blanche shook her head in an obvious attempt to clear her head of some disturbing thought, and placed the photograph back on the dresser. "He was here," she spoke quietly. Lynn could feel an abundance of questions building up inside her. "About an hour ago."

Lynn got the terrible impression that the older woman was not telling her something, and she could also guess what it was. "What was he doing here?" she asked with uncanny evenness, her eyes unconsciously trailing Blanche's face and arms for any sign of physical contact her brother might have made.

Blanche must have seen her studying her. She shrugged her shoulders as a nonchalant answer. "Lynn," she began, considering her next words carefully. "Is your brother… I mean… Is he quite… normal?" She breathed out the last word with evident reluctance.

Lynn had dreaded this conversation ever since she'd started to work for the actress. With her history Lynn had thought in best not to have Blanche worry about her problems. For a long agonizing moment Lynn looked into Blanche's concerned eyes, wondering if the floorboards under her feet could possibly give out and grant her the bliss of escaping this impending conversation. However, she soon came to the depressing conclusion that that was not about to happen.

"No," she uttered hesitantly. The level look of understanding Blanche gave her provided Lynn with the confidence she needed to explain further. "Most of the time he's just a little odd, but there are worse days when he's very… confused and… well, upset. Mother denies it. She keeps saying he'll grow out of it." Lynn shifted her weight from one foot to the other, wringing her hands in front of her uncomfortably.

"I'm so very sorry," Blanche whispered with complete and utter anguish.

"And you're sure you'll be all right?"

Blanche smiled adoringly at Lynn's unfounded concern. At times she felt as though she were a child in need of looking after rather than the other way around. To be fair, that was what she was paying Lynn for, but she had never thought of young people as quite so responsible as Lynn. She astonished Blanche daily with all that she could accomplish.

"I'll be fine," she reassured the young woman, who was gathering the last few things to put into her purse. "What could possibly happen to me here?"

Lynn gave her a meaningful look.

"I'll be on my way back the moment we have that headstone in place," she promised. "It won't be like the day of the funeral."

Blanche shook her head at the tension in Lynn's tone. "Don't hurry back."

With a final lagging glance in Blanche's direction, Lynn hastened out of the house and into the street.

Blanche listened to the key turn in the lock, and then returned her attention to the knitting in her hands and the troubling thoughts on her mind. She couldn't for the life of her understand why Lynn had felt the need not to tell her about her brother. Naturally, she didn't expect the young woman to tell her everything about her, but she'd have thought Lynn would trust her with this—after all, Blanche had, whether intentionally or not, told her rather a lot about Jane.

Even from the way Lynn had spoken about him, it was evident that her relationship with her brother was far less loving than Blanche and Jane's. Maybe it was simply too painful for the girl to speak of her unfortunate sibling. Blanche knew first-hand how difficult it could be.

Around noon Bill called and Blanche was grateful for the distraction, although even as she was speaking to her friend on the phone, she couldn't quite get Lynn and her brother out of her head. They arranged for Bill and Margaret to come over for tea the following Thursday. Bill was starting a new project and his wife was just finishing one. Blanche was looking forward to hearing about the motion picture business of today. She had kept an eye on both Hedda Hopper's and Louella Parsons's columns in the papers, but that was undeniably nothing like the real life on the set and behind the cameras.

Blanche had often thought about the past but rarely missed it. As her thoughts drifted from one familiar face to another, she could almost smell the sawdust and hear the exited hubbub and the director's orders. She would have loved to see another movie set in her lifetime.

A curious sound from the hallway distracted Blanche from her blissful musings and she turned in her chair, so that she could leave her bedroom where she'd received Bill's call.

There was no one in the living room nor did she spot anyone in the kitchen. How silly of me! Who could possibly be here, Blanche thought to herself. Lynn couldn't be back yet.

Blanche was about to head back to the sofa to pick up her knitting again when her eyes travelled over to the front door and found it slightly ajar. A chilly feeling of unease filled her as she stared at the door. Lynn had definitely locked it.

"Hello?" Blanche called out apprehensively. "Is someone there?" Her eyes remained nailed to the silent front door for a long moment. And then a shuffling sound from the kitchen startled her.