Dust Devil
“He was a middle-aged man with graceful gestures who, Deborah decided long ago, was neither straight nor homosexual like some of the artists and writers who inhabited Camino del Monte Sol. To her way of thinking he was neuter, with no sexual preference. After the first months of working for him, his odd feminine gestures no longer bothered her, for she actually enjoyed his witty personality and his sincere friendship and his encouraging interest in her work.
"Are you still hoping one day to ...have your own one-woman art exhibition?” he asked her now between sips of tea.
Deborah paused in stacking the filing papers to one side of the table. Roger was watching her with an intensity that disconcerted her. "One day,” she answered carefully. "When my paintings have gained greater acceptance by the critics.”
Roger reached in his pocket and fished out a telegram. "It’s from CBS,” he said, handing it to her.
She looked from Roger to the yellow piece of paper addressed to him.MoreLess
"Are you still hoping one day to ...have your own one-woman art exhibition?” he asked her now between sips of tea.
Deborah paused in stacking the filing papers to one side of the table. Roger was watching her with an intensity that disconcerted her. "One day,” she answered carefully. "When my paintings have gained greater acceptance by the critics.”
Roger reached in his pocket and fished out a telegram. "It’s from CBS,” he said, handing it to her.
She looked from Roger to the yellow piece of paper addressed to him.MoreLess
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