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"Pardon?"

"Pose for me so I can paint you."

"Pose?"

"I don't mean nude," he said. "although I'll admit that from a purely artistic viewpoint, you are beautiful and would make an excellent subject. However, I'd like you more in a flowing long skirt with just a little of your leg showing as you sit on the dune here. I'd like you barefoot. and I'd like your hair down and to have you wear an off-the-shoulder peasant girl's blouse. No jewelry, not even earrings. No makeup. either. Just you sitting here looking out at the ocean is all I want."

"I don't have that sort of clothes with me." I said.

"It's all right. My mother has the clothes. She'll lend them to you, or to us, I should say. and I'm sure they will fit you well enough. Well?" he followed quickly.

"How long do I pose? I mean, hours and hours?" I asked.

He finally laughed warmly, freely, and when he did, his face looked much younger.

"No more than two hours a day for three days. How's that?"

"Okay," I said. "It's a deal."

His eves brightened, and then he looked out at the sea. "For now, though. I'd like to be alone." His voice had changed back to the harder, colder, angrier tone. It was as if he had another self a part of him that came from the dark side and took him over firmly,

"Okay." I stood up. "When can I meet your mother?" I dared to ask, and held my breath,

"Tomorrow, after we have our first session on the beach. I'll be out here by ten, which should give you enough time to rise, have breakfast."

"What about the clothing?" "It'll be here. You can go over the hill there and change."

"And your mother?"

"You'll come to the house about two-thirty. She and I have a glass of lemonade together and just sit quietly on the patio.

"Don't tell her about our bargain," he added sharply. All right."

"I don't want her to think... I mean, she might not understand," he said.

"But you're getting her to give me the skirt and blouse," I reminded him.

"I didn't say that. I said she would lend them to us. She just doesn't have to know she is." he added.

I was going to ask why keeping it a secret was so important. but I thought I heard Daddy tell me to stop, to be grateful for what

I had achieved, and not to push too hard. Everyone is fragile, he would say.

"Okay. See you later." I said, and walked back toward the house, When I looked at him again, he had gone down to the water. He stood in the incoming tide and stared out as if he saw something. I could see nothing, but then again. I wasn't looking at the world through his eyes.

.

Just before I turned to go back up the walkway to the house. I heard a vigorous honking of a boat horn and looked out to see someone in a long speedboat waving and bouncing along toward the shoreline. As he drew closer, I realized it was Thatcher. He gestured emphatically for me to go down to the dock which was just below the beach house. Surprised and amused. I hurried back over the beach as he pulled the boat alongside the dock.

"What are you doing?" I called. "I thought you were very busy today."

"I had a postponement at court and then met with the client who owns this boat. I gave him four hours for free in exchange for using the boat. Come on aboard.'

"Come aboard? But..." I looked back at the house. "I haven't even met with your mother today yet. She doesn't know I am here. and..."

'She's probably still in bed. C'mon. I only have four hours."

"But..."