Cut to a close-up of the model, where we see an eyeball peering through an archway. It's Head #1, admiring Rick's work. Head #2 babbles some crap about "Miles's audacious sense of scale." Head #3 materializes and asks Rick point-blank if he feels up to such a big job. "Well, it certainly is a challenge," he fudges. "You've never done anything like this before," she says, semi-accusingly. Miles to the rescue. Head #2 scrunches up his face in pompous condescension (or I guess what he thinks pompous condescension looks like) and says, "Cybil's full of hormones right now. It makes her cautious and maternal." She responds with a cutting remark. Head #1 wants to know how Rick will get hold of all the land they'll need. "Very carefully, I presume," Rick says. I groan. Heads 2 and 3 talk at him for a minute before Head #1 levels another question about integrating the retail and office spaces so that neither seems like a "cheap afterthought." Rick pulls the old bullshitter's standby: when you don't know the answer, simply repeat the question in the form of a statement. Amazingly, these big heads of business seem satisfied with his vague comments. Rick is sporting that dopey, dazed look he got at Thanksgiving dinner. I hope the clients aren't looking at him.
Over his shoulder, Lily's chatting with the ladies. One asks about her "husband," referring to Rick. Lily corrects her. The swimsuit model is confused as to how Lily has kids without being married to Rick. Lily explains the whole sordid mess while the blonde trio clucks and nods. "Wow, four kids," says the model. "Two," Lily corrects her. "I have two, and Rick has two." "Right," says the model, "four." I think she just wants to prove that she can do the math. Lily has nothing to say in response to such a stunning display of intelligence, so she does the sensible thing and takes a slug of her champagne. While she's tipping her glass, the matronly blonde snides, "Well, I guess we know what you do all day, hmm?" and the ladies all snicker. Lily keeps the glass tilted and drains it. The model complains that she has to decide soon if she wants kids. Lily thinks that's silly, since the girl is in her early twenties. "Not if you have ovaries," the model vapids. "You can't get the tummy flat enough for swimsuit work." Someone needs to explain what ovaries are, I think. Lily looks as if she'd like to plunge her empty flute into her eye. "That never occurred to me," she says, and the ladies tee-hee. She excuses herself and heads for the conference room.