I led him toward the kitchen. He peeked into the pan. “How well have you mastered breakfast?” he asked. “If you're asking if your eggs will be burned, the answer is probably.” Harry smiled and put a large, heavy envelope on the dining room table. The thwap it made as it hit the wood was all the clue I needed to what it contained. “Let me guess,” I said. “I’m getting a divorce.” “It would appear you are.” “On what grounds? I assume his lawyers didn’t check the boxes for adultery or cruelty.” “Abandonment.” I raised my eyebrows. “Clever.” “The grounds don’t matter. You know that.” “I know.” “You should read through it, have a lawyer read through it. But there’s essentially one big highlight.” “Tell me.” “You get the house and your money and half of his.” I looked at Harry as if he was trying to sell me the Brooklyn Bridge. “Why would he do that?” “Because you are forbidden to talk to anyone at any time about anything that happened during your marriage.” “Ts he also forbidden>?” Harry shook his head. “Not in writing, no.” “So I can’t talk, and he can blab all over town? What makes him think Ill go for that?” Harry looked down at the table for a moment and then back up at me, sheepish. “Sunset’s dropping me, aren’t they?” “Don wants you out of the studio. Ari’s planning to loan you out to MGM and Columbia.”