We got in the cab and he put his hand on my knee, it felt somewhat weird, foreign, but it still made me flush a little. When we got to his flat he ush...ered me in and showed me around. He could probably feel that I was anxious so he offered me another drink, but I declined- too much alcohol was likely to spoil everything rather than make it better. "Well, I'm getting a glass of wine for myself, would you like some juice or water?" he asked as he led me to his kitchen. "Water would be good," I. “No favors.”“But I—”“There are no favors because André and I have already talked about it. How may we serve you? If you tell us to jump, our only possible response is to ask how high? If you tell me you want my arm, the only question is which one? Do you start to get a picture? We adore you two. You are totally and solely responsible for our happiness, both now and in the future. Now how may we serve you?”“Well, darling, you got most of the story last night. If things work out, Cara will be our. No question about it, she was beautiful. Her small mouth, with its thick, pursed lips, was nearly round, and in a perpetual pout. Her large, dark, almond eyes stared back at me in hurt innocence. Yes, she was quite attractive for such a young girl.And young she was. Her long, silky black hair was pulled back in a juvenile ponytail, and her slight form had barely a curve to it. She couldn't have been over 4'10'', and I doubt if she weighed eighty pounds — more like seventy-five. Yes, I guessed. Morgan returned her laptop to her desk in the studio and worked there.Working together—sharing the space—was a step in our recovery. And we were not alone. Kendra returned with clay and sat at her workstation. The first weekend we were all together, we hardly spoke, each absorbed in our own projects. Les came to the studio and worked with Morgan on evaluating potential outlets for our art and writing. I painted. Kendra sculpted. Annette wrote.Mavis stayed away. I’d heard her whisper to Kendra.