Page 4 of The Fire Line
“You read the treatment.”
“Yup.”
“And?”
“Could mean anything.”
There it was: not fear of being filmed exactly, but fear of being interpreted. Of someone taking the visible pieces and arranging them into a story Harris had not authorized. Much more interesting.
“We’re not here to turn your family into noble symbols of a disappearing West.”
“Seems like something people say before they do just that.”
Jay folded his arms. “Then answer honestly and make it difficult for me.”
Harris went still, the silence lasting a second too long to be empty.
“Four thirty tomorrow.”
“Fine.”
Harris walked away, and Jay watched him for approximately two steps too many.
“Harrison.”
A woman came down the lodge steps carrying a pitcher of lemonade and enough glasses for everyone in the yard. She had Evan’s open expression and Harris’s blue eyes, though the resemblance to Harris was clearest in the directness of her gaze.
Harris stopped and looked back.
“You meet everyone?” she asked.
“Yup.”
Her attention shifted to the crew. “Then I suppose introductions have been handled with his usual efficiency.”
Harris’s mouth moved at one corner. Barely, but Jay caught it.
“Della Shaw,” she said, continuing down the steps. “You must be Jay, Priya, and Eli.”
She identified each of them correctly, which meant she had either studied the production information or Evan had supplied physical descriptions over breakfast. Jay would have placed money on both.
“Drink something before you unload another case.” She distributed the glasses, then looked at Eli. “When did you last eat?”
“We had lunch.”
“What time?”
His hesitation apparently supplied a complete nutritional history.
“I thought so. Dinner’s at six in the lodge. Come hungry.”
While Della occupied herself with Eli, Harris resumed his path toward the shed.
Priya came to stand beside Jay. “That went well.”
“Your standards are deteriorating.”
Evan rubbed the back of his neck. “He stopped working long enough to introduce himself. That’s practically hospitality.”
