He was a little of each--an old
friend of Riles and useful around the place, watching the gallery
several times a week and doing the framing jobs that came along.
The Cleary's waitresses were wearing _Midnight in the Garden of Good
and Evil_ T-shirts. Not a bad image, from the cover of the best seller,
but it annoyed him to see his friends wearing advertisements.
"Pecan waffle, Don?"
"Yes, Ma'm--for my strength. It's that time again. I'm going north."
"Take me with you."
"Can't afford you."
"Next year," she suggested.
"Do my best," Don said. "Something to live for. There's not much up
there, Jilly, just Yankees, shivering and eating beans."
"I could stand the shivering. Want some grits?"
"Read my mind," Don said.
He ate slowly, drank an extra cup of coffee, left a big tip, and got on
with packing. By cocktail hour he had cleaned his room and stashed his
belongings in a footlocker and a duffel bag. The easel and the painting
gear stayed, part of the decor. He packed his best brushes, his
watercolors, and a block of good paper. There was no limit to the
number of lighthouse and/or lobster boat paintings he could sell, if
they were cheap enough. The portraits and the figures were different.
Drawn or done fully in oils, they were given away, or nearly. It was
hard to put a price on them.
"How well you look, Don," Kai said.
"Thank you. I'm having my annual burst of optimism.
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