As I said before I’m seriously protective of my privacy and
when I first agreed to allow Lydia to showcase some of my work I realized it
would have to be signed. I didn’t want to use my name so I chose a pseudonym.
It was an alias that had no meaning to anyone other than me. I selected the initials
AMB to sign off on all my work. Angie my baby is what the initials actually
represented. She would always be mine…in my heart.

Anyway that’s how I find myself currently getting ready for
another showcase of my paintings at Lydia’s gallery and no, she still had not
talked me into attending opening night. Over the years I have earned quite a
comfortable living selling my paintings. I have gone national…small collectors
across the U.S.A. have bought up my paintings as soon as they came up for sale
allowing me to amass considerable wealth. However, I am content with my life
and see no need to live extravagantly.

“Bette, won’t you reconsider coming to the opening tonight?
In all the years that I have known you, you have yet to attend even the first
one.” Said Lydia.

“Lydia, my answer is the same as always…no…I told you
before…I am finished with attending openings…mine or anyone’s for that matter.
I had enough of the ass kissing back in the day when I use to host them before
I left L.A. I thought we were past this long ago?”

“I know I’m sorry Bette…I just had to try one more time…can’t
blame a girl for trying.” She said with a smile.

“Well I really need to be going Bette. I have so much to do
and so little time to do it in. I will be by next week to go over the numbers
and give you a check. Maybe we can do lunch…take care and wish me good luck
tonight.”

“Sounds good…goodbye and good luck…like you’re going to need
it with your talent for salesmanship.”

Sitting down in the old rocker with her cup of tea in hand my
thoughts drifted to the opening. I hoped everything was successful for Lydia
tonight. Maybe I would call Kit and see if she could come and visit for a week
or so…my treat of course. As the cool evening breeze brushed across my skin I
thought…my Angie would be eleven now. I wonder what kind of things she likes to
do. Does she like to read or maybe draw or dance? I’m sure she has lots of
friends. As my mind followed this pattern of musings I knew it was time for bed
getting up from my chair I went inside.