"Five. Almost six."

"Excuse me?"

Cassie quickly pointed to the photo on the bureau.

"I would guess. I mean, if that photo's recent."

She turned and raised a hand, taking in the whole of the room.

"I also have a niece who is five. This could be her room."

She waited but there were no further questions from LeValley. It had been a bad slip and Cassie knew she was lucky to have gotten away with it.

"Well," LeValley said, "I want to get you to sign in so we have your name and number. Are there any questions I can answer for you? I even have an offer sheet with me if by any chance you're ready to do that."

She smiled as she said the last line. Cassie smiled back.

"Not just yet," she said. "But I do like the house."

LeValley headed back to the stairs and down. Cassie moved toward the door to follow. As she stepped into the hallway, she glanced back at the collection of stuffed animals on a shelf above the bed. The girl seemed partial to stuffed dogs. Her eyes then went back to the drawing on the easel.

Down in the living room LeValley handed her a clipboard with a sign-in sheet on it. She wrote the name Karen Palty, the name belonging to an old friend from her days dealing blackjack, then made up a phone number with a Hollywood exchange and an address on Nichols Canyon Road. After she handed it back LeValley read the entry.

"Karen, you know, if this house isn't what you are looking for, there are several others in the canyon I'd be more than happy to show you."

"Okay, that would be fine. Let me think about this one first, though."

"Oh, sure. You just let me know. Here's my card."

LeValley offered a business card and Cassie took it. She noticed through the living room's picture window a car pulling to the curb behind the Boxster. Another potential buyer. She decided it was time to ask questions while she still had LeValley alone.

"The ad in the paper said the Shaws were anxious to sell the house. Do you mind me asking how come? I mean, is there something wrong here?"

Halfway through her question Cassie realized she had used the name of the owners. Then she remembered the letters on the wall of the girl's room and knew she was covered if LeValley noticed the slip.

"Oh, no, it has nothing to do with the house at all," LeValley said. "He's been transferred and they are anxious to make the move and get settled in their new place. If they sell it quickly they can all move together, rather than him having to commute back and forth from the new location. It's a very long trip."

Cassie felt she needed to sit down but stood still. She felt a terrible dread engulf her heart. She tried to remain steady by placing her hand on the stone hearth but was sure she was not hiding the impact of the words she had just heard.

It's a very long trip.

"Are you okay?" LeValley asked.

"Fine. I'm fine. I had the flu last week and… you know."

"I know. I had it a few weeks ago. It was awful."

Cassie turned her face and acted as though she were studying the brickwork of the fireplace.

"How far are they moving?" she asked, as casually as was possible considering the fears welling up inside her.

She closed her eyes and waited, sure that LeValley knew by now she wasn't here because of the house.

" Paris. He works for some kind of clothing import business and they want him working on that end of things for a while. They thought about keeping the house, maybe renting it out. But I think realistically they know that they probably won't be coming back. I mean, it's Paris. Who wouldn't want to live there?"

Cassie opened her eyes and nodded.

" Paris…"

LeValley continued in an almost conspiring tone.

"That's also the reason they would be very interested in any kind of an offer. His company will cover him on anything below appraisal value. Anything within reason. So a quick, low bid might really be able to turn this. They want to get over there so they can get the girl into one of those language schools this summer. So she can start learning the language and be fairly integrated by the time school starts."

Cassie wasn't listening to the sales pitch. She stared into the darkness of the hearth. A thousand fires had burned there and warmed this house. But at the moment the bricks were black and cold. And Cassie felt as though she were staring at the inside of her own heart.

In that moment she knew that all things in her life were changing. For the longest time she had lived day to day, carefully avoiding even a glance at the desperate plan that floated out on the horizon like a dream.

But now she knew that it was time to go to the horizon.

ON the Monday after the open house Cassie got to Hollywood Porsche at ten as usual and spent the rest of the morning in her small office off the showroom going down her list of call-backs, studying the updated inventory list, answering Internet inquiries, and running a search for a customer looking for a vintage Speedster. Mostly, though, her thoughts remained concentrated on the information she had learned during the open house in Laurel Canyon.

Mondays were always the slowest days in the showroom. Occasionally there were leftover buyers and paperwork from the weekend but as a rule very few first-visit car buyers came in. The dealership was located on Sunset Boulevard a half block from the Cinerama Dome and sometimes it was so slow on Mondays that Ray Morales didn't mind if Cassie walked over and caught a flick in the afternoon, just as long as she had her pager on and could be recalled if things started hopping. Ray was always cutting Cassie a break, starting with giving her the job without her having any valid experience. She knew his motives weren't entirely altruistic. She knew it would only be a matter of time before he came to her to collect the return. She was surprised he hadn't made the move yet; it had been ten months.

Hollywood Porsche sold new and used cars. As the newest person on the six-member sales force, it fell to Cassie to work Monday shifts and to handle all Internet-related business. The latter she didn't mind because she had taken computer courses while at High Desert Correctional Institution for Women and had found she enjoyed the work. She had learned that she preferred dealing with customers and salesmen from other dealerships over the Internet rather than in person.

Her search for a Speedster of the quality her customer sought was successful. She located a ' 58 convertible in pristine condition on a lot in San Jose and arranged to have photos and the particulars overnighted. She then left a message for the customer saying he could come in the next afternoon and look at the photos or she would send them over to his office as soon as she got them.

The one test drive of the day came in shortly before lunch. The customer was one of Ray's so-called Hollywood hard-ons, a name the fleet manager had come up with himself.

Ray religiously scoured the Hollywood Reporter and Daily Variety for stories on nobodies becoming overnight somebodies. Most often these were writers who were snatched from penniless obscurity and made rich and at least known for the day by a studio deal for a book or screenplay. Once Ray chose a target, he tracked down the writer's address through the Writers Guild or a friend he had in the voter registrar's office. He then had the Sunset Liquor Deli deliver a bottle of Macallan Scotch whisky with his card and a note of congratulations. A little more than half the time it worked. The recipient responded with a call to Ray and then a visit to the showroom. Owning a Porsche was almost a rite of passage in Hollywood, especially for males in their twenties – which all the screenwriters seemed to be. Ray passed these customers on to his salespeople, splitting the commission on any eventual sale, after the cost of the whisky.