Chapter 2

“Are you trying, again, to make me fat?” Ellis asked her as they sat.

“You could use a few more pounds,” she replied. “You’re too thin by half.”

“Genetics.”

“That’s always your excuse.” She smiled fondly at him as they served themselves.

“Doesn’t mean it’s not the truth.”

She rolled her eyes then asked, after taking a couple of bites of the chicken, “Is your painting going any better today?” She knew, because he’d told her often over the past few months that he was having problems.

He shook his head. “I don’t have what it takes anymore. It’s just…rote. There’s no spark. No feeling.”

“What you need is inspiration.” She shook a finger at him. “Something you won’t get it hanging around here. And walking Jive a couple of miles doesn’t count.”

Ellis shrugged. “I go into the city at least once a month to talk to Randall at the gallery.”

“There and back in two hours, and an hour of that is driving,” she said. “Ellis, dear, you need to get a life which doesn’t revolve around the house and grounds. How often do I have to tell you that?”

“Every day?” he replied wryly.

“When are you going to listen?”

He sighed. “With as much as I’m not getting accomplished, maybe I shouldtake your advice.”

“It couldn’t hurt.”

Chuckling, he agreed, saying, “And it might help.”

* * * *

Ellis was up early the next morning. Not unusual for him. Having Jive in his life made it de rigueursince the dog was a morning—well not person, but…

After getting ready to face the day, Ellis joined Jive on the gallery running around the second floor of the house. The dog seemed to be looking longingly at the river, even though he couldn’t get to it anymore. Right after Ellis had gotten him from the shelter five years ago, Jive tried to take a swim. It almost ended in disaster. Pincers like to patrol their property. They also like water and with the Mississippi practically at the foot of Ellis’s property, Jive had decided to dive in. Luckily Ellis had seen him from the gallery and raced to his rescue when the dog had gotten caught in a strong current. If the runabout hadn’t been at the dock the dog might have had a very short life. Ellis called in a contractor the next day to erect a wrought iron, gated fence around the side and back yards of the house. There were times since then when he saw Jive peering longingly between the bars. But never once had the dog tried to squeeze between them to further explore the rest of Ellis’s two acres of land, or the neighborhood, on his own.

Jive raced down the stairs, capering in anticipation of their walk, followed more sedately by Ellis. When they got to the bottom, Ellis snapped his fingers, bringing Jive to heel. Then they went around the house to the long front path leading to the street and their walk began. It ended half an hour later in the kitchen. Jive headed to his bowls to eat and drink, while Ellis helped Janice finish making breakfast. Today it was blueberry pancakes topped by sunny side up eggs and pure maple syrup.

When everything was ready, they went into the dining room to eat. The first thing Janice asked after they made inroads into their meal was, “What are your plans for the day?”

It was the same thing she asked every morning and he usually replied, “To paint.” Today he surprised her by saying, “I thought I might go into the city.”

With a grin, she reached over to feel his forehead. “Nope, no temperature.” Leaning back, she looked at him. “To the gallery and right back home?”

“I’ll stop at the galley, but afterward I think I’ll have lunch somewhere then take a stroll around the Quarter. See if maybe you’re right about my needing to recharge my batteries by getting away from here for a while.”

“It can’t hurt. Spend the night. Hit up a club or two.” She patted his arm. “It’s been a long time since you’ve had any companionship.”

If Janice hadn’t been almost ten years older than his fifty-three, Ellis might have taken umbrage at her suggestion. As it was, he was used to her mothering so he simply smiled, replying. “Three years at last count. Not that I’m looking, or even likely to find someone, at my age.”

“You never know. Some young men are looking for—”

“If you say a father figure,” he grumbled.

“No, I was going to say a man with experience.”

He snorted. “Uh-huh. Not sure I even have that anymore. I might take your suggestion though. Twenty-four hours of R&R.”

“And good sex if you get lucky.”

“Janice…”

“It could happen.”

“I suppose,” he agreed, knowing full well that the chances of that were nil.