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“What was her name?”
“Who?”
“Mrs. Phelps.”
“Marie.”
Stefan snorts in approval. “Chaste. Sweet. Tell me about her.”
“Her maiden name is Salisbury; she hitched a bus from Atlanta and rode it to the end of the line, which happens to be LA, in ‘38; her parents are in the record industry, and she is not.”
“Yeah?” He leans back in, some parts rapt with the story--other parts with Cole’s lips. “What did she come here for, then? Aspiring actress?”
“The sea,” Cole answers, either unaware or willfully ignorant of Stefan’s intentions. “Her friends living here had sent her postcards with the ocean on them. She’s never seen it before. That’s where we met.”
--
Stefan meets Mrs. Phelps--in a manner of speaking.