A. Homes - This Book Will Save Your Life

"Perfect combination," Cynthia says.

"You two look alike," Richard says, as though it might come as a surprise.

"Irish twins," the sister says. "He's eleven months older."

They sit at a beautiful table set with dishes that look like they came from somewhere very far away, a very long time ago.

"Tuscany?"

"Neiman Marcus," the sister says.

"I want to hear everything," Tad says to Richard. "Does your ass hurt? Do you feel different? Are you exhausted?"

"I feel good," he says. "I'm glad I did it. It was interesting to notice how much my moods shifted even when nothing was happening. As quiet as it was on the outside, it was very loud on the inside."

"I knew it, man, you're on a path."

"Either that or you should be on medication," the sister says.

"You're going to change the world," Tad says.

"Hey, thanks for the cushion, it made a big difference."

A timer rings inside the house. "That's lunch," the movie star says, and he and the sister go inside.

"He's so cute," Cynthia whispers.

"They have the same expression," Richard says. "It's disconcerting."

"Twice-baked Chilean sea bass," the movie star announces, carrying out the fish.

"Avocado, tomato-onion salad, salad with arugula and fennel," Savannah says.

"You should do a cookbook," Richard says.

"Are you also an actor?" Cynthia asks the sister.

She takes a deep breath and belts out the beginning of an aria. The sound that comes out of her mouth is otherworldly; it freezes the canyon, hangs out over the hills, fills the crevasses, holds the air for a moment, and echoes back.

Her audience applauds. "Wow," Cynthia says.

"She's the real star," Tad says.

"I'm just here for a couple of weeks, and then I go back."

"Back to?" Cynthia asks.

"The Paris Opera."

"This is the best meal I've ever had," Richard says. "Talk about transformative."

"I'm going to take that as a compliment with a grain of salt," the movie star says. "After all, you haven't really eaten in seven days."

"And what about you?" they ask Cynthia.

"I've been at the Golden Door all week — just got out this morning."

"Isn't it the best?" the movie star and his sister say simultaneously. "We took our whole family."

Richard sits quietly, listening as Tad and Cynthia talk. The terrace, the landscaping, the colors, the textures of everything are all amazing to him. He could almost swear that he's on drugs, that the morning good-bye tea was some sort of monkey juice. Everything on the movie star's patio is perfect, everything is the way you would want it to be.

"Are you all right?" they ask.

"Fine, I'm fine," he says.

Cynthia is telling Tad and Savannah about her childhood adventures, crabbing with her father on the Eastern Shore, dangling raw chicken into the water from a piece of kite, watching the crabs' pincers grab the meat.

"I didn't know you were from the East Coast," Richard says.

"Of course I am, hardly anyone is really from here — we're all imports."

Cynthia and Tad really seem to be hitting it off. Why wouldn't a movie star have a lot in common with a depressed housewife?

"So what do you do when you're not making a movie, or pulling horses out of holes?" Cynthia asks.

"I cook," he says, "and I read — a book a day. Right now I'm reading a history of the West."

"I'm reading the new Regina Ditmont in my book club."

"I didn't know you were in a book club," Richard says.

"Well, it's not like you have to apply to be in a book club. Anyone can be in a book club — all you have to do is read the book."

"It's good," Richard says. "It gets you out and talking to people."

"Don't overestimate this group — they picked this book because they thought it was about two girlfriends, they didn't realize it was the Queen of England and her sister."

"How did you two meet?" the movie star asks.

"We're just friends," Richard says.

"In the produce section at Ralph's," Cynthia says. "I was crying because my life sucks, and he'd just been hit by a car and had a big bag of ice on his leg. I made him buy a Carvel cake."

"I love Carvel cake," Tad says.

"It's not exactly gourmet," Richard says.

"We always had it for our birthdays," Savannah adds.

The movie star goes into the house and comes back with a plate of cookies and big pot of tea. "I made these for you — lime cookies and chocolate-meringue drops."

"Sublime," Richard says as the cookie dissolves on his tongue.

There is a warmth, a notable lack of pretense to the afternoon. Richard is not sure how it's possible — he's never met a

movie star who didn't need constant attention.

They sit on the patio for a very long time, and finally Cynthia checks her watch and says, "I really should be going."

The movie star hugs and kisses them good-bye, and they walk back down the hill, towards Richard's house.

"I can't believe that Tad Ford cooked lunch for me. Did that really happen? Did I win the lottery?"

He nods.

"Did you have a good time?" she asks.

"As good a time as I could — everything feels a little strange, I don't know if I'm coming or going, my gyroscope is off."

Back at the house, he sits down on the front steps again. "I'm still not ready to go in."

"Can I borrow your bathroom?"

"Yeah, but bring it back," he jokes, letting her into the house.

A large minivan pulls up. "She'll be right out," Richard calls from the front step.

"Is this where the spaceship left you?" the husband says when Cynthia comes out.

"You don't have to go back," Richard says softly. He's standing next to her on the step, and they're both looking at the minivan.

"Is that really an option?"

"Why not?"

"I have nowhere to live, no job, no ability to take care of myself."

"That should be the least of it."

The husband beeps. "Come on already."

"I'm not sure I can," she shouts, keeping her distance.

"Get in the car," the husband snaps.

She shakes her head. "I thought I was going back, but I'm not. Thanks for coming."

"Come on, Cyn, just get in the car and we'll talk. The kids want to say hi."

The children sit seat-belted into the backseat, looking perplexed. They are at a peculiar age — too big to be little children, and too little to be teenagers.

She moves close to the car.

"Why did you bring the kids?"

"I can't leave them home with no sitter."

"They don't have a sitter anymore; they look after each other."

"Get in the car, Cyn," he says. "If I have to get out it's not going to be pretty."

"Be nice," Richard says.

"What does that mean, be nice? Like I'm mean, like I hit her or something? Who the fuck are you anyway?" he says, getting out of the car, grabbing his wife's wrist.

Cynthia screams.

"Let go," Richard says, coming closer.

"Don't tell me what to do," he says, twisting his wife's arm.

"Let go," she says.

"Get in the car," the husband says.

"I'm not getting in the car. I'm never getting in the car, so you can either let go and drive away peacefully, or cause a scene in front of your children."

He drops her wrist and steps back. "What are you doing? We came to pick you up. We thought we were being nice. I was going to take everyone out for dinner. Why don't we all go out for dinner and we can talk? Then, if you don't want to come back, I won't make you."

"You can't make me."

"Fine."

"He comes too," she says, grabbing Richard's sleeve.

It is the last thing Richard wants; what he wants is to be alone, to think about everything, to make note and order of it all.

They drive in squished silence to a famous steak joint downtown and cram into a booth.

It is a whole other world; he is abruptly and intimately inserted into Cynthia's life.