Appointment with a Smile Read Free Page B

you.”
    Returning her hug, I replied, “I’m not certain. As much as I wish to see her, I don’t believe she’s interested, and I’ll accept that.”
    Choosing not to take a cab, I walked the few blocks back to my hotel. Fresh air, I believed, cures a foggy brain. At this point, my brain seemed nearly soggy, as well.
    I passed by the gallery on my way to the hotel and saw Fiona and her assistant, Spencer Murphy, inside talking with Max. I rapped on the glass.
    Max opened the door and gestured me inside. “The star of our show,” he gushed. “Have you come for your share of the takings?”
    We laughed. “I think I can wait until tomorrow.”
    Fiona pulled a chair toward me as I entered the office. “Glad you stopped by. We sold two more paintings since you left.”
    “I was concerned that we might not even sell one in total.”
    Spencer sniggered. “I figured at least three. They are extraordinary.” His boyish looks made him seem younger than his mid-twenties. Yet he had somehow become Fiona’s go-to assistant. He worked diligently on the many details in running one of the most successful agencies in the art world. He traveled with Fiona, kept her notes, and in general, kept her somewhat sober. Although romantically she liked younger men, he was not her lover. I strongly suspected he was gay.
    “Spencer,” I said, “we were both wrong. I may be a hit after all.”
    Fiona gave me a hug. I could tell she was somewhat inebriated. “The fools are coming to their senses. Now the collectors are like old lions with a piece of meat.” She cackled as she took another huge gulp of wine. “Want a sip? You haven’t done much celebrating, and it’s time you did. Past time.”
    “Thanks, but I’d rather just go back to my hotel to sleep.” I stood, made my way to the door, and turned to see them toasting a night of success. For me, this was more than another great night—it was monumental. It marked the first night Fiona had sold so many of my paintings.
    I was grateful for the triumphant evening in many ways. I also felt enriched that I’d met someone who’d played such an important part in Molly’s life. Although not biologically connected to Molly, Samantha had assimilated Molly’s kind and tender ways. 
    As to the future, I had but one guess. Molly wasn’t interested in meeting with me again, and I had to accept it finally. Or at least attempt to accept it.

Chapter 4
     
    I waited for my best friend of forty-plus years, Esther Lilly, to arrive from Colorado. When I called her yesterday, she recognized that my seeing Molly again had upset me and said she’d join me in London today at noon. We were meeting for lunch. I suggested Clouds, a small, exclusive, as well as expensive, café with an outdoor area located near the hotel. I asked the hostess to seat us outside under one of the parasol-style umbrellas.
    As I sipped wine, my thoughts drifted back to leaving my home a couple of days before. I missed both my residence and Clover, my sweet little seven-year-old schnauzer. With light-silver, nearly platinum-colored, hair, she had lovely eyes with heavy, long lashes. A local art student, Roxie Tate, was watching my home and Clover. Clover and I adored Roxie. She e-mailed me the happenings of each day and did so with a great deal of style and zest. Each morning, and most evenings, I checked for her messages on my compact notebook. She referred to Clover as “Lashes,” and hadn’t told me how she referred to me. Roxie would also be taking care of Esther’s dogs.
    Esther and I became fast friends in college and remained best friends over the years. She had recently retired from her career as an astrobiology professor. She once told me that one teaspoon of a neutron star weighed one-hundred-million tons. Esther was the queen of minutia.
    Just slightly over five feet, Esther was a force. Her curly, shoulder-length, blonde-grey hair surrounded an angular face. Piercing blue eyes gleamed as if she was