Silver Scream

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she tried reason, argument, and, finally, bad grammar in an attempt to fend off Ingrid Heffelman from

the state bed-and-breakfast association.

“I don’t want none of those crazy people at Hillside Manor,” she shouted into the phone. “I mean,

any of them. They’re Hollywood types, and they’re

nuts.”

“Just because they make movies doesn’t mean

they’re crazy.” Ingrid huffed. “Look, I know this is

a big favor. But you had only two other reservations

for the last weekend of October besides the producer, Bruno Zepf. I can put those non–movie people

up somewhere else to make room for the additions

to Mr. Zepf’s original guest list.”

Since Bruno Zepf had made his reservation two

weeks earlier, Judith knew she was on shaky

ground. Like many Hollywood big shots, Zepf was

as superstitious as he was successful. Ten years earlier, his career as an independent producer had been

launched at a film festival in the Midwest. At the