Toni said, “I really enjoyed Quebec City, Alette. I’d like to go back someday. Did you have a good time?”
Alette said shyly, “I enjoyed the museums.” “Have you called your boyfriend in San Francisco yet?” “He’s not my boyfriend.”
“I’ll bet you want him to be, don’t you?” “Forse. Perhaps.” “Why don’t you call him?”
“I don’t think it would be proper to—” “Call him.” They arranged to meet at the De Young Museum.
“I really missed you,” Richard Melton said. “How was Quebec?” “Va bene.” “I wish I had been there with you.”
Maybe one day, Alette thought hopefully. “How is the painting coming along?”
“Not bad. I just sold one of my paintings to a really well-known collector.” “Fantastic!” She was delighted.
And she could not help thinking. It’s so different when I’m with him.
If it were anyone else, I would have thought, “Who is tasteless enough to pay money for your paintings?”
or “Don’t give up your day job” or a hundred other cruel remarks.
But I don’t do that with Richard. It gave Alette an incredible feeling of freedom, as though she had found a cure for some debilitating disease.
They had lunch at the museum. “What would you like?” Richard asked. “They have great roast beef here.”
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