Six

"Andi?" It was Claire's distinctive voice. "Did Joni tell you? We're almost neighbors."

"You've moved here?" Andrea said. "I'm so glad. How close are you?"

"Only ten minutes away," Claire said, with a smile in her voice. "I've rented a house on Third Street and I'm planning to offer painting classes to help keep the wolf from the door. Are you interested?"

"I don't know, Gypsy Pie," Andrea said, "Painting classes? I'm not sure if I have any talent along those lines."

"Au contraire, my dear. I remember some pretty good stuff in college," Claire said.

"That was your work, not mine. I passed the course, but no one accused me of being talented. Besides, college was a hundred years ago." Andrea didn't need anything else to demonstrate her inadequacies. She felt a draft and drew the robe close around her neck.

"Professor Hale wouldn't have known talent if it bit him; he just knew the rules," Claire said. "Who cares, anyway. We're talking fun here. I'm not expecting Picasso."

Claire paused to allow her time to respond.

Andrea's attitude was softening, but she said nothing.

Claire continued, "Anyway, I'll send you the poop and a list of supplies. You've got a few days yet; give it some thought. Talk to Joni; she's thinking about it too. It could be a lot of fun for you, Andi. No pressure, honest. If you want to learn, I've got stuff to teach; but no one is going to push."