Cai WAS SHOOTING A MOVIE on location in Big Bear for three weeks. I knew that going with her wasn’t an option, nor was visiting her on the set. She insisted she would come home every weekend, but it felt too risky. She was a single girl, after all. I was afraid the prevailing wisdom erred too close to the question What do single girls have to go home to? So I decided it was the right time to go to France. Harry had some connections to filmmakers in Paris. He made a few calls on the sly for me. Some of the producers and directors I met with knew who I was. Some of them were clearly seeing me just as a favor to Harry. And then there was Max Girard, an up-and-coming New Wave director, who had never heard of me before. “You are une bombe,” he said. We were sitting in a quiet bar in the Saint-Germain-de-Prés neighborhood of Paris. We huddled in a booth in the back. It was just after dinnertime, and I hadn’t had a chance to eat. Max was drinking a white Bordeaux. I had a glass of claret. “That sounds like a compliment,” I said, taking a sip. “T don’t know if I have before met a woman so attractive,” he said, staring at me. His accent was so thick that I found myself leaning in to hear him. “Thank you.” “You can act?” he said. “Better than I look.” “That cannot be so.” “Tt is.” I saw Max’s wheels start turning. “Are you willing to test for a part?” I was willing to scrub a toilet for a part. “If the part is great,” I said. Max smiled. “This part is spectacular. This part is a movie-star part.”