“If you were, cowboy, it’d be the most exciting thing to happen to me all year.’’

Toby chuckled, which I took as an encouraging sign that his injuries weren’t too bad. As we rode off toward the trailer, Toby bouncing a bit behind the saddle, two questions ran through my head.

What would make Sam miss the chance to take Kelly to dinner? And why did Barbara emerge from the woods near the parking area, if she’d been in Toby’s trailer on the opposite side of the set?

“Look, everybody! There she is … Hollywood’s newest star.’’

My cousin Henry rose from our table at Gladys’ Diner and lifted his voice over the breakfast din. Mama paused at the door to make a proper entrance. Preening, she fluffed her hair, smoothed her lemon yellow pantsuit, and took the measure of the room.

Once she was sure all eyes were on her, she made the rounds, bestowing cheek kisses and beauty-queen waves to the customers. Henry whistled as she did a red-carpet amble along the counter.

Sitting with my sisters, I muttered, “Don’t encourage her, Henry. She’s just one air kiss away from Hollywood Diva as it is.’’

“Amen,’’ Maddie said.

“Oh, let your mama have her fifteen minutes, girls. It won’t kill you.’’

Sitting back down, Henry stole a biscuit from Maddie’s plate. Despite the poke she gave his hand with her fork, Henry polished off the biscuit in two bites. Then he grabbed another one from Marty’s plate. She glared. “Just because you came in late doesn’t mean you get to eat our food, Henry.’’

“Jeez, Marty!’’ he said. “Since when did you start suffering from PMS?’’

When Henry zeroed in on my plate, I raised my steak knife at him: “Don’t even think about it.’’

Gladys’ restaurant had done a makeover, replacing the wagon-wheel hanging lamps and gingham tablecloths with soft lighting and tasteful landscapes. There was some grumbling at first, as Himmarshee doesn’t take well to change. But the grub was still good, and people were getting used to the new look.

Mama sidled up to the table just as Charlene, the waitress, got there with a coffee pot and Henry’s breakfast order, the Hungry Hog. “I guess I’ll have to get your autograph, Rosalee. I hear you’re going to be in the movie.’’

“It’s just a small part, Charlene.’’ Mama lowered her eyes, signaling modesty. “But it’s absolutely crucial to the plot. Or so my director tells me. That’s Paul Watkins. He’s the one who noticed I had a certain star quality.’’

I mentally amended that to false modesty.

She said, “Let me just borrow your pen and pad, honey, and I’ll give you my John Hancock.’’

Charlene refilled our cups, then put her coffee carafe on the table and handed Mama a blank sheet from her pad. As Mama worked out her new movie star signature—“Do you girls think I should put a star right here, between Rosalee and Provenza?’’—Charlene pulled up a seat.

“I hear you’re teaching Jesse Donahue how to ride, Mace.’’

“How’d you hear that, Charlene?’’ I glared at Mama, the teller of secrets.

Shrugging off my question, the waitress babbled on excitedly, “I’ve been watching her ever since she was a little girl. Why, I’ve seen her grow up on screen. What’s Jesse really like? Has she slept with as many men as they say? Is it true she’s on heroin?’’

Mama started to give her version of the real Jesse, but I cut her off. “She’s not a drug addict so far as I can tell. I think people have the wrong idea about Jesse.’’

Maddie snorted.

“What does that mean?’’ I asked.

“I don’t like her,’’ Maddie said. “Making a spectacle of herself the way she does? If she was my daughter, her hide would be double-tanned by now.’’

Henry slathered butter on a biscuit from his own plate, finally. “Forget about Jesse,’’ he said. “What’s the story with Kelly Conover? Now, there’s a woman! Is she nice? Is she as pretty in person as in the movies?’’

Marty sighed. “She’s beautiful, even more so than she looks on screen. Tiny, too. She’s hardly any bigger than me.’’

“I wonder if that’s what people will say about me, once my movie comes out.” Pausing mid-autograph, Mama’s face took on a dreamy look.

“Well, Kelly’s not tiny everywhere,’’ Maddie sipped her coffee, “thanks to the miracle of silicone and a skilled plastic surgeon.’’

Marty looked over each shoulder, a guilty look on her face. “Keep it down, Maddie. That’s mean, and people may hear you.’’

“Kelly’s fake bosom isn’t exactly a secret.’’ Maddie said. “The scandal sheets have even run before and after pictures. Besides, her boobies look like two jumbo honeydews balanced on a plank of plywood. You are such an innocent, Marty.’’

Charlene took Marty’s scowl as her exit cue. Mama stood up and called after her, “You forgot to take my autograph, honey … Well, okay, I’ll leave it with your tip.’’

Marty said, “You know, I get really tired of y’all treating me like a child …’’

“Don’t blame me! I didn’t say a word,’’ I said.

Maddie snickered. “C’mon, Marty … only a moron would think those ‘girls’ of Kelly’s are real.’’

“Well, they look real enough to me,’’ Henry said.

“See my point?’’ Maddie sat back, arms folded.

Marty pressed her lips together and glared at our big sister.

Mama examined her profile in the mirror behind the counter. “I wonder if I should think about plastic surgery, girls. It’s quite common in Hollywood. And speaking of Hollywood, I see some folks in the corner I didn’t get the chance to talk to about my movie.’’

Waving, she traipsed off to another round of My Life on the D List, Himmarshee style.

Henry smacked his lips and closed his eyes. “I had a poster of Kelly in a crocheted bikini taped to my bedroom ceiling. I spent many happy hours dreaming of the day she’d be my bride.’’

“Dreaming, right,’’ I said.

“Bride, right,’’ Maddie added.

We both looked at Marty, but she didn’t chime in to rag on our cousin.

“Maybe y’all will think I’m a moron for saying this, but all you ever do is pick fights,’’ Marty said. “As for you, Henry, while you’re so busy drooling over Kelly, you might not have heard a crazed murderer is loose on the movie set. Mace already had a close call. And now someone tried to run over Toby Wyle. Anyone could be next. Y’all seem like you don’t even care.’’

“Calm down, Marty. You’re not acting like yourself,’’ I said.

“Don’t tell me how to act, Mace. Maddie always criticizes, and you always tell people what to do. Maybe all three of you should be spending more time thinking about who’s responsible and how to stop them.’’

With that, Marty grabbed Henry’s second biscuit right out of his hand. She took two big bites, tossed it back on his plate, and stalked out of the diner.

All of us stared as the door of Gladys’ slammed shut. Even Henry stopped eating long enough to watch, open-mouthed, through the plate glass window as Marty marched stiffly down the sidewalk.

“And here I thought Maddie kept the whole family’s supply of sticks up her butt. What’s gotten into your little sister, girls?’’

“I guess we’re all a little tense.’’ I turned my attention to my cousin. “Seeing a body hung up like the Monday wash will do that to people.’’

“That, and watching your sister narrowly escape death from the razor-sharp pieces of an exploding light,’’ Maddie added.

Henry motioned with his coffee cup toward Mama. Still making the rounds, she’d just stuck a fork into a neighbor’s plate for a sample of egg and sausage scramble. “Your mama seems to be handling the stress pretty well.’’