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pretty woman said. She held out her hand and I took it

gingerly, surprised at how firmly she held her fingers

around mine. For a moment we only looked at each

other. Then I glanced up at Sanford Delorice. He was looking down at me, his eyes opening a

bit wider to reveal their mixture of brown and green.

He had his hair cut very short, which made his skinny

face look even longer and narrower. He was wearing a

dark gray sports jacket with no tie and a pair of dark blue slacks. The upper two buttons on his white shirt were open. I thought it was to give his very prominent

Adam's apple breathing space.

"She's perfect, Sanford, just perfect, isn't she?"

Celine said, gazing at me.

"Yes, she is, dear," Sanford replied. He had his

long fingers still wrapped tightly around the handles

of the wheelchair as if he was attached or afraid to let

go.

"Did she ever have any training in the arts?"

Celine asked Mrs. McGuire. She didn't look at Mrs.

McGuire when she asked. She didn't look away from

me. Her eyes were fixed on my face, and although her

staring was beginning to make me feel creepy, I was

unable to look away.

"The arts?"

"Singing, dancing . . . ballet, perhaps?" she

asked.

"Oh no, Mrs. Delorice. The children here are

not that fortunate," Mrs. McGuire replied.

Celine turned back to me. Her eyes grew

smaller, even more intensely fixed on me.

"Well, Janet will be. She'll be that fortunate,"

she predicted with certainty. She smiled softly. "How