There had been a time when she’d have been self-conscious for this whole crew to see her in the yoga pants that she’d had to wear all day. She used to be ashamed of her body—of her butt that made finding jeans that fit almost impossible, of her not-at-all-sample-size figure that made awards season a struggle, of her curves that had made her anxious in a bathing suit for most of her life.

At first, working in L.A. had made her feel so much worse. Everyone was smaller than she was, sometimes it felt like they were literally half her size, and she’d seen the way casting directors looked her up and down.

But at some point early on, she’d had to make a decision. She knew she was never going to be a size two, she knew she was never going to have that kind of ideal Hollywood body; no amount of starving herself or constant exercise would achieve it. So she’d had to decide whether to keep going in the business, just as she was, or give up and do something else.

She kept going. And then, amazingly, after her first few roles, so many women wrote to her to say how happy they were to see someone who looked like them on the big screen, how her beauty made them realize their own. Sure, it helped that she also saw the way men looked at her—both in public and in private—and how easy it suddenly was for her to get dates and anything else she wanted now, but that was just a side benefit. The men probably came easy to her because of her newfound happiness with herself, not the other way around. She realized, as she used her whole body to act, to exercise, to express herself, how much she loved her body, and how glad she was for every inch of it.

Last year, when she’d been so anxious and scared, she’d lost weight. And she’d gotten praise from all sorts of arenas for that, which felt so weird and disconcerting—did all of the people praising her really find her that unattractive before? But the worst part was she hadn’t felt like herself. She’d gained some of the weight back now and felt like herself again. And she liked herself, in and out of the yoga pants.

“It’s been a great day,” she said to Ben, “even though I’m worn-out.”

He smiled at her, and she suddenly wished they were alone.

“It really has been, hasn’t it?” he said. She liked the way he smiled at her. Like they were sharing a joke, one only the two of them were in on.

“Maybe . . .” she said, and then stopped herself. What had she been about to say? Maybe he could come back to her room tonight? She couldn’t say that. To cover for herself, she reached into her bag for her phone.

“I should check to see . . .” If what? If her agent called? Sure, yeah, that made sense. She was always checking for that anyway.

No emails or calls from her agent or from Simon, but she had two missed calls from her brother, and a text, too.

That was weird. Her brother was much more of a texter than a caller.

Call me when you get a chance

Oh no. That was an ominous text.

She held up a finger to Ben, still standing at her side.

“Hold on, I need to make a call.”

She scrolled to her brother’s name as Ben backed away.

“Hi, what’s up?” she said when Chris answered the phone.

“Okay, so Mom told me not to tell you this, but I know you’d kill me if I didn’t. But don’t freak out.”

She was already freaking out.

“What is it?”

He sighed.

“You know how they’re in Joshua Tree this week, right? They drove down yesterday, and today they were in the park. Well, Dad tried to help someone whose car had broken down.”

“Oh no,” Anna said.

“Oh yes,” Chris said. “Anyway, he landed in the hospital. They don’t think it’s his heart but they’re not sure; the only reason I know all of this, FYI, is that Dad was apparently bragging about me to the guy whose car he was helping with, and handed him one of my business cards. Thank God the guy called me and then I called Mom.”

Her dad was in the hospital. Oh no oh no oh no.

“Where are they?” Anna asked.

“A little hospital in Palm Springs, I’ll text you the name, I know you’re going to want to look it up. Mom sounded fine and forbade me to call you because she says you’re working, but you’re always working so I don’t know why she thinks that’s a reason not to tell you. She said Dad was asleep, but I don’t know if that was true or just some bullshit she told me. You know her.”

Anna sighed. Yes, unfortunately in this instance, she did.

“Okay. Thanks for calling. Where are you?” she asked her brother.

“I’m in Seattle at a conference. I’m supposed to be here through Monday, but depending on what I hear from Mom, I can fly down there tomorrow if I need to. I’ll call you if I hear more. Don’t freak out, okay?”

Don’t freak out, indeed. Her brother had always been the levelheaded one—calm, orderly, detailed, on the right path since birth. She was sure he wouldn’t freak out about this.

“I’ll try,” she said. “Thanks for telling me. Keep me posted, okay?”

“Okay.” He paused. “You’re not going to do anything wild like shipping in an L.A. doctor to the hospital or airlifting Dad out of Palm Springs, are you?”

“No.” She hadn’t even thought about any of that. “I promise, I won’t do any of those things.” Though . . . that whole airlifting-him-out thing sounded like a great idea. She should make a few calls on that one. Just to see how possible it was.

“Annie. This is me you’re talking to. I know that tone in your voice. Dad is going to be okay.”

She turned around so no one in the room could see her.

“You don’t know that,” she said in a low voice.

Chris sighed.

“No. You’re right. I don’t know that for sure. But I talked to Mom, and I know she would have been more worried if there had been something to worry about. You know how she does that fake chipper sound to her voice thing when she’s really scared? She didn’t do it this time, I promise. And I swear, if I hear from her again, I’ll let you know.”

His voice had that soothing Mr. Rogers tone he probably used to reassure his students. It usually worked on her, too.

“Okay. Talk to you tomorrow,” she said.

She hung up the phone and stood there facing the wall for a few minutes before she turned around. When she finally did, Ben was a few feet away.

“Feel free to tell me to go away,” he said quietly. “But . . . is everything okay?” He looked so concerned, and had such a warm expression on his face, it made her want to burst into tears. She couldn’t do that, though. Her mom was right, this was work, she had to keep going.