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"I was hoping you’d say that"

Hilary freshened up and changed clothes She was ready to leave fifteen minutes before the repairer quarter-hour

In the car, on the way to Tony’s place, she recalled how she had felt in that dark ht Tony was seriously hurt, perhaps dead She nearly had been sick to her stoht, in bed, awaiting sleep, she had argued with herself about whether or not she loved Tony Could she possibly love anyone after the physical and psychological torture she had suffered as a child, after what she had learned about the ugly duplicitous nature of s? And could she love a ument still wasn’t settled But now she knew that she dreaded losing Tony Cleree that she had never feared losing anyone else in her life

At his apartment complex, she parked beside the blue Jeep

He lived upstairs in a two-story building Glass wind chi from the balcony near one of the other apartments; they sounded melancholy in the late-afternoon breeze

When he answered the door, he wasn’t surprised to see her "I guess Michael called you"

"Yes Why didn’t you?" she asked

"He probably told you I’erates"

"He’s concerned about you"

"I can handle it," he said, forcing a smile "I’m okay"

In spite of his attempt to play down his reaction to Frank Howard’s death, she saw the haunted look in his face and the bleak expression in his eyes

She wanted to hug hiood with people in ordinary circumstances, let alone in a situation like this Besides, she sensed that he had to be ready for consolation before she dared offer it, and he was not

"I’," he insisted

"Can I come in anyway?"

"Oh Sure Sorry"

He lived in a one-bedrooe and airy

It had a high ceiling and a row of big s in the north wall

"Good northern light for a painter," Hilary said

"That’s why I rented the place"

It lookedroo on the walls Other canvases were standing on the floor, leaning against the walls, stacks of them in some places, sixty or seventy in all Two easels held works in progress There were also a large drawing table, stool, and artist’s supply cabinet Tall shelves were jammed full of oversized art books The only concessions to ordinary living room decor were two short sofas, two end tables, two laed to forereat waret drunk," Tony said as he closed the door "Very drunk Totally s Would you like so?" she asked

"Bourbon on the rocks"

"Make it the sa drinks, she took a closer look at his paintings Some of them were ultra-realistic; in these the detail was so fine, so brilliantly observed, so flawlessly rendered that, in terraphy Several of the canvases were surrealistic, but in a fresh and co style that was not at all reuy They were closer to the work of René Magritte than to anything else, especially the Magritte of The Doritte had never used such s, and it was this realer than real quality in Tony’s visions thatand unique

He returned frolasses of bourbon, and as she accepted her drink she said,

"Your work is so fresh and exciting"

"Is it?"

"Michael is right Your paintings will sell as fast as you can create them"

"It’s nice to think so Nice to dreaive them a chance--"

"As I said before, you’re very kind, but you’re not an expert"

He was not at all himself His voice was drab, wooden He was dull, washed out, depressed

She needled hi him to life "You think you’re so smart," she said "But you’re dumb When it comes to your oork, you’re dumb You’re blind to the possibilities"

"I’ood a," she said

"I don’t want to talk about art," he said

He switched on the stereo: Beethoven interpreted by Ormandy Then he went to one of the sofas in the far corner of the room

She followed him, sat beside him "What do you want to talk about?"

"Movies," he said

"Do you really?"

"Maybe books"