Chapter 13

In the entrance, she handed me a white envelope and a small thermos. “Thank you for being such nice company,” she said.

“I don’t think I understood your painting so well.”

“Oh, Sebastien, it’s not what you say. It’s your presence. Your…energy.” She fixed my T-shirt collar. “You’re such a decent young man. You have that double H working for you.”

“Double H?”

“Honest and handsome.”

With my free hand, I strapped my bag on. “Well, I’ll be back next week. And be careful until then, all right?” I raised the thermos to her. “Thanks, by the way.”

“Listen, Sebastien, I put a little more in there.” She pointed to the envelope sticking out of my pocket. “For your studies.”

A few months ago, I’d made the mistake of telling Valencia about the promise I’d made to my mother. But what kind of man went back to finish his high school degree at age twenty-seven?

Jack swore people did it all the time. He’d even offered to help me out financially if I chose to get my high school diploma.