Chapter 2: House Rules
Vivian Hart was smaller in person than on screen, and sharper. She received them in a sunroom full of orchids, wearing a silk robe and reading glasses, and she did not stand up. "Sit," she said. "Both of you. On the same couch. I want to see how you handle proximity."
Nora sat at one end of the couch. Eli sat at the other. There was a full cushion between them, and Vivian looked at it the way an editor looks at a sentence that needs work.
"Here is how this goes," she said. "Every morning, I talk. You both listen. Every afternoon, you write. Separately. Every Friday, you each read me what you have, out loud, in front of each other. I will tell you what I think. I am told I am not gentle."
"Understood," Eli said.
"I wasn't finished." Vivian took off her glasses. "You will also eat dinner together, every night, at this house. My last biographer told the press I was cold. I would like the people writing my life to at least know how to share a table."
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