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"I knew you would. We'll work for a while and take breaks. I have the kitchen stocked with great food for lunch," he said enthusiastically.

"How long will we work every day?"

"We'll work awhile in the morning, have a leisurely lunch, and then work a few hours in the afternoon. Whenever you get tired, just holler and we'll take a break."

I was surprised at how quickly the first hour went by. Tony looked at his watch and announced it had and then invited me to look at what he had done. I got up and gazed at the canvas. He had outlined my face, drawn in the lines and shaped my lips, eyes and nose. He had just begun to do my hair and neck. Of course, it was too early to make any judgments, but I decided quickly that he did have talent.

"It's nothing yet," he said, "but I think I'm getting a good start."

"Oh yes, it's very good."

"It's a wonderful experience, doing something artistic," he said staring at the canvas, his eyes dark and intent. "It gives you a sense of accomplishment when you bring something to life out of a blank canvas. This drawing is like the first stages in the making of a baby . . seeds in my imagination merge with reality and take form, just the way a man's seed attaches itself to a woman's egg and begins the creation of a newborn baby. You and I," he said turning to me, "we're giving birth to something beautiful here, together," he added, his voice in a whisper.

I didn't know what to say. The way he looked at me, his eyes small but bright as coals, his voice so soft, made me tremble inside. He quickly changed expression back to that tight, amused smile and then laughed.

"You look terrified. I'm only speaking in metaphors, making comparisons," he said and then he tilted his head a bit. "Tell me, Leigh, did you have a boyfriend while you were at Winterhaven?"

"Boyfriend? How could I? Momma wanted me to come home each and every weekend. You know we spent a lot of time together, skiing, horseback riding . . ."

"Yes, yes, but I thought . . . boys do come to visit there, don't they?" he asked, tilting his head to the side and smiling.

"No. Miss Mallory has prohibited boys from the building unless it's a properly chaperoned dance. There were a few dances, but I never got to go to them," I said bitterly.

"I see. Well, next year, you'll stay more often and get to meet boys. You're interested in boys now, aren't you? What about at your old school? Did you have a boyfriend there?"

"Not really."

"Not a steady one, huh? Just someone," he said and nodded as though I had admitted it. "How about a cool drink? Coke?"

"Okay." He went into the kitchen and brought out two glasses of soda. While he drank, he stared at me. I thought he might be still thinking about how to draw this or that, but he was thinking of other things.

"This boy who wasn't really a boyfriend," he began again, "I'm sure you kissed him, didn't you?"

"No," I said quickly. His question made my face redden and he smiled.

"Don't worry. I won't tell your mother."

"There's nothing to tell her," I insisted.

"Girls still kiss boys, don't they," he asked laughing, "or is that against the new rules? You just rock and roll nowadays?"

"Boys still kiss girls," I replied, although I wasn't speaking from experience.

"Did you ever French-kiss?" He sat on the couch and looked up at me, eager for my answer. I hadn't known what French kissing was until I joined the "special club" at Winterhaven and heard Marie Johnson describe it.

"No," I said more firmly.

"You do know what that is, don't you?"

"Yes."

"But you've never done it. How wonderful. You really are as innocent as you look. You mean when you didn't kiss this boy who wasn't really a boyfriend, you didn't press your tongue against his or he press his against yours?"

"I said no," I replied. Why was he teasing me so much?

He laughed. "It's not as bad as it sounds, Leigh, although your mother has come to think so, as well as thinking the rest of it is as bad," he added, suddenly angry. He stared down at the floor for a long moment and then those blue eyes swung my way, suddenly totally void of expression, as if he wasn't looking at me or didn't see me. It bothered me how empty he could make his eyes, as if he knew how to turn his emotions on and off. Then he blinked rapidly and focused on me again.

"You strike me as a very precocious young girl, Leigh. It's why I thought you would be wonderful as a model. Sometimes, you have a very knowing, very grown-up look in your eyes. I bet you're heads and shoulders above other girls your age, aren't you?"