Dutifully, Anne navigated her hired Prius through a terrain at once dusty and opulent; Palm Springs is, after all, an exorbitantly irrigated pile of sand. Her destination was a taupe Mid-Century house, all angles and vertical glass walls. Anne parked the car by the curb and buzzed at the gate.…
Tag: Palm Springs
To say Anne was stunned when she was summoned to the winter home of Becky Nelson—head of production at a very well-known studio—would be an understatement. Becky had cut her teeth working for Anne’s father: nepotism, there was that inconvenient word again. Was this a real deal? Had it ever…