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Late Saturday morning we walked along King Street. We went into Red Chili, but nothing seemed appealing. At The Urban Store there were just the sort of tee shirts I'd wanted: crimson, emerald, peacock blue, forsythia.

"Can I get more than one?" I asked Rachel.

"Why not? You'll still have something when you spill sauce on the one you're wearing Sunday!"

"Nasty girl! I should beat you for that!"

"Oh, please, sir!" We both laughed at that.

I bought an emerald and a blue. They were quite dear. I also found a pair of green silk hose. I used VISA.

"That should hold them tomorrow!"

"Hungry?" I asked.

"No, but we should walk over and do some food marketing."

We walked back to a bit past the bend in King and purchased some leaf lettuce, tomatoes, a cucumber, and a sack of potatoes. Then bread, milk, butter, black olives and some cheese.

"This will hold us for a few days, but we need to do some major marketing," Rachel said.

"Yes, dear," I sighed. "Can we go to a cheese shop? I'd like some real cheese."

"What's wrong with the Deli on King?"

"It's just not broad enough."

"Okay then, you find one."

"I'll ask tomorrow."

We had salad for lunch. "Want to go for a walk?"

"Where?"

"Just up King and City Road to Victoria Park. We could take something to sit on and some books. It looks dry enough."

"Fine. We can get drinks from one of the vendors."

And so we did that. I reread Upfield's An Author Bites the Dust, as murder in a fictitious Melbourne suburb was the closest I could get to Sydney (actually, the one about the Kelly Gang would be nearer in distance, but further in reality). Rachel took her book on the folktales of Indians in the American north-west. We had a fine time: together, comfortable, peaceful. After a few hours we walked home, stopping to get some take-out from Thai Times. After dinner, we went to bed for peaceful togetherness.

We cleaned house and lazed about Sunday. Then we got dressed and I drove downtown to Cowper Wharf. After a brief hunt, I located a space that appeared to be legal on Sunday.

"Do I look okay?" Rachel asked when we were in the lift.

"Ravishing," I responded.

Winnie's door was open and noise filled the vestibule. We just walked in. There must have been two dozen people there. We were most likely the youngest by a decade. We were spotted almost instantly.

"Oh, there you are! Come in! There are so many folks for you to meet." Winnie was hostess and mistress of ceremonies. She introduced us to a couple near the entry and then towed Rachel off, saying "You must meet the Gallery chair!"

"Oh, well," I said to the couple. "This way I know who counts."

"I know the feeling, sweet," the woman said. "He [head gesture] goes off to talk business or golf and I get abandoned."

"A man would be a fool to abandon you, ma'am," I said.

"Aren't you cheeky!" she responded. "Can I fix you a drink?"

She moved towads a table where a white-jacketed man was serving.

"Sir?" I cast an eye over the bottles. "I'll have a glass of the Viognier, please."

"Are you a connoiseur?" my new companion asked.

"Hardly, but I'm quite familiar with this one. My uncle owns the terroir."

"The vineyard?"

"Not quite. The group of vineyards. A terroir consists of the site- or region-specific characteristics of a wine. I recognized the label as from a hillside near St. George."

"Oh! You're a Queenslander! I'm afraid I didn't catch your name."

"Patrick Hollister. My pleasure. And you?"

"Mireille Colbert." She put out a long white hand with dark red nails. It was faintly moist when I took it.

"Well, Mrs. Colbert..."

"Mirry."

"Mirry. I'm not from Queensland. My father was born there, but I'm from Perth."

"Oh. Do you know Winnie well?"

"She's been a friend of the family for ... uh ... decades."

"Very tactful, Patrick." Mirry was maneuvering me about, like an angler with a prize fish. And it was clear what she was planning. But I spotted something on a wall.

"Pardon me, but might we look at that painting?"

"That one?" she pointed. "The one with that curve of dots?"

"Yes. It's a Fred Williams. Quite striking."

"You don't look like a painter."

"Oh, I'm not. The south-eastern Australian painter can be recognized by his poor manners and paint-spattered extremities. Large solitary, they band together briefly at gallery openings to criticize the exhibitor."

Mirry gave a shriek. "Oh, my! You hit it! You must be a performer. A stand-up comedian?"

"Wrong again. But I do want to look at the Williams." I moved towards it, sipping my wine. In the meantime a soft-looking woman in a too-brief orange dress had made her way over, attracted by Mirry's shriek of laughter.

"Laura, this is my new friend Patrick! He's the very funniest! Patrick, tell Laura what you said."

"Hello, Laura. I'm afraid I can't recall what it was that set Mirry off. It was just a spur-of-the-moment remark." Laura was wearing a shopful of scent. The Williams was really fine. It was a decade or so after ours, a vertical canvas with a shallow arc of dabs running vertically.

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I slept through breakfast the next morning. Jack had already left for the office when Helen appeared in the bedroom quite excited. "Someone's found Clyde," she announced. I opened one eye and looked at my sister. She was holding a slip of paper in one hand and begging for my attention. "Where?" I managed to ask. "It's some kennel north of the city. The police picked him up running along the highway and brought him there." She was elated. "Isn't it grand? I'll be so glad to see...

The Knight and His Squire 3Chapter 6

Rohea, Maes and Pyar exited the cave, and went to the horses tied nearby. "Mud!" Maes said. "Where is Mud?" "Mud is alive and well," Rohea said. "He is with the soldiers." "Are we headed there?" Maes asked. "Yes, we cannot travel quickly to Wolle with only two horses. We would be much faster with three. If we leave now, we should make it to the soldiers' camp before dawn." Rohea rode with Maes on Feisty, and Pyar rode on her own horse. The trio made their way back to the...

A Girl Only Dreams Make UpChapter 27

The light rain coming down reminds him of the first time they met. Alan wasn’t supposed to fuck anyone that day. He held out for a good bit until he found the toy. That was his undoing. He sits in his car staring up at the door to her apartment. He is nervous. He has never been nervous. For over two decades he has talked to, wooed and fucked many women. Other than his mother he thought he only had feelings for one other. Now that that is not an option, his attentions have turned to his dog....

Comforting after a break up

It was around the time Summer becomes Autumn in 2010 and I was only 16. I had my very first girlfriend and I was very pleased with how we were going. We had hit the 3 month mark, and I was elated, I couldn’t comprehend our relationship going any better. Evidently, she could. Pheobe dumped me on a Thursday, during the lunch break at school. I was devastated. I found myself questioning how this could happen, what went wrong, what could I have done. As you do. In the face of these...

Incredible ChangesChapter 504 Chrissy Memorial Park

Time to put Chrissy and her mom to rest. We were in a limo at the head of a twenty-two-mile-long funeral procession. “Corwin’s mom said that the elite families are already at the location. Everyone behind is everyone else coming to the funeral. A brief survey of those who came to the viewing shows that only a few met or spoke with Chrissy’s mom. Over half are Chrissy’s friends and their families. A small percentage is here for your mother and me. The rest said they are coming because...

The story of Peaches and Sweetpea Part 4

Why it had to happen this way? I had to confess my feelings for Tanuj some day or other. But as Thammi used to say, we realise the importance of people when they are taken away from us. Maybe to teach me a lesson, The Mother Goddess devised the turn of events. But because of me, Peaches is in danger. Oh Mother Goddess! I have already harmed my innocent brother. How many crimes will you make me do? I beg you my true love's life and well being. Please save him! I have worshiped you all my...

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