I dutifully looked at the painting. Nathaniel laid out silverware, fetched more coffee, made sure we had at least six kinds of jam, jelly, and preserves. I felt him. He looked surprised.
One was as blond as Clay, and the other was very, very brunette, as in African American brunette. How better? He asked as we eased past the news van and a crowd of gawkers. Trouble was the stage was too high from the floor to be that ladylike, so I stumbled, and he caught me and gave me a look. I realized that he'd pulled back.
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