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"Uh-uh, the boss has already set up a trust fund for her education. Pablo's, too."Frank chuckled. "The boss, he's something else again, huh?" That he is, Frank. That he is."Early Monday evening, I was in my studio painting. David had driven Sable and Ginny to the airport to meet Greg and Frank.After Leah left me the first time, I'd actually captured my emotions in my first successful painting, the emotions involved with grief. Loni had said she felt grief when she gazed at the painting, said she couldn't live with the painting because it would make her depressed. I lived with the painting because I lived with my grief, but time passing had taken the edge off my grief, dulled it to disappointment. Could I portray disappointment?I tried; I failed. I didn't truly feel disappointed. I felt adrift, cast loose without an anchor, floating without purpose. I didn't have a clue about how I could create feeling adrift in a painting.Could I paint love?I set the failed painting against the wall.. And at the same time all too familiar. His nostrils flared as he breathed deep and concentrated on the subtle scents of the strangers, which had taken up residence in the cottage. Edgar nickered nervously, his hind quarters twitching and his tail swishing as his mind struggled to place an identity to the couple. Understanding dawned and his eyes widened and rolled with his excitement."By the Goddess! Can it be? Sabratha and Cadmus are in the cottage! Oh, merde! Could I choose a worse time to interrupt? Damn it! My apologies Helen, and, you too, Khalid, but I have no choice. At least I need not disturb Erik and Christine. After all, in order that all go well this evening, those two must find their release in order for Christine's power to ripen fully. Ah, fuck it! Well, there is no getting around it. Helen and Khalid will just have to wait a little while longer."His attention returned to the man he thought of as his best friend and to the woman whom his friend loved. His lips twisted.
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