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that occurred at the moment of impact.”
    Stark surreptitiously wiped his hand on a small napkin. “I’m not sure I picked up on that.”
    “It was very subtle,” Ian assured him. “Listen, I gotta run. Got some money people waiting for me. Promised ‘em I’d talk to ‘em right after tonight’s performance. But I’d really like to get together with you soon, Stark. Contemporary theater needs guys like you.”
    Stark stared at him. “I doubt it.”
    “Hey, I’m serious here,” Ian said. “Not every man in your position appreciates the importance of fringe theater. I’ll get back to you.” He winked at Desdemona. “See you, Mona.”
    He lifted a hand in farewell and hurried off to a booth in the corner.
    Desdemona wrinkled her nose at Juliet and leaned forward. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Honestly, I can’t believe you and Aunt Bess want me to go out with him. You know I never go out with men who call me Mona.”
    “Give him a chance,” Juliet insisted in a low voice. “He’s really a nice guy, and the two of you have a lot in common.”
    “Forget it.” Desdemona rolled her eyes and gave Stark a wry look. “Juliet and my aunt are incurable matchmakers.”
    “I see,” Stark said. He made a mental note never to call her Mona.
    “You have to admit that Desdemona is a rather unusual name in this day and age.”
    “I chose it myself when I was five years old,” Desdemona said proudly.
    Stark nodded. “So, what’s your real name?”
    “Desdemona is my real name.”
    “I mean what were you called before you were called Desdemona?”
    “Susan or something,” Desdemona said carelessly. “I don’t remember for certain.”
    Stark stared at her, amazed. No one at the table seemed interested in the topic. He reminded himself that actors frequently changed their names. Further evidence of their erratic natures, he supposed.
    Juliet sighed glumly. “I wasn’t trying for a cathartic sense of sexual release, you know.”
    Desdemona’s eyes gleamed. “Are you sure?”
    “Positive,” Juliet said.
    “I guess that explains why I didn’t get it,” Stark said.
    “Maybe I should have gone for it,” Juliet said. “Might have kept the Eastsiders interested.”
    “Don’t worry,” Henry said in a consoling tone. “It’ll take at least a week to close the show.”
    “And you’ve always got your day job,” Desdemona said cheerfully.
    Henry laughed. “That’s right.” He put a comradely arm around Desdemona. “Thank God for the one member of the family who has achieved financial stability.”
    Juliet slumped gracefully against the back of the booth. “Sometimes I think I’m fated to stuff mushroom caps for the rest of my life.”
    “You can thank Stark for the fact that there are still mushrooms to be stuffed.” Desdemona’s eyes met his over the top of her cup. “Right Touch is going to make it through another tax quarter because he was chivalrous enough to pay the tab for his canceled reception this afternoon.”
    For some reason, Stark was embarrassed. “Forget it.”
    “Abandoned at the altar.” Juliet was momentarily distracted from her own trials. “Incredible. I’ve never actually met anyone who was left standing at the altar. Sorry I had to miss it. I had rehearsal.”
    “I wish I’d missed it, myself,” Stark muttered.
    “Kirsten and I were handling the champagne,” Henry told Juliet.
    “We saw the whole thing. A very heavy scene. Audience of two hundred.”
    “No kidding?” Juliet’s eyes widened as she gazed at Stark. “Two hundred people saw you get dumped?”
    “A full house,” Stark admitted.
    Henry hunched over his espresso cup and peered intently at him. “Mind if I ask you a question?”
    “Depends,” Stark said.
    “What was it like when you realized she’d ditched you? I mean, what was the first thing that went through your head?”
    “The same thing that probably went through the fly’s head a second before the swatter got him in Fly on