“This is a very interesting opportunity for CU.” Dean Porter held up another slide, gazing at it through the ceiling light. “I must say, I was intrigued by your letter, and that the work appears to be similarly consistent in its boldness.”

“Well, I know the idea is probably a bit atypical. I thought perhaps this is a way to educate the public on women who are incarcerated by focusing on one individual, by showcasing her artwork.”

Although somewhat distracted by the art, Bette couldn’t help but notice the trace of Scottish burr in the other woman’s voice. Of course, she had immediately noticed her visitor’s appearance. Petite. Hair done in a sensible shoulder-length style, style of dress a conservative gray suit. But open in attitude. And attractive. Very attractive.

“Hmm. I’m equally curious why you came to California rather than trying to get a show in London.”

“Her work is in a gallery in London and it shows well there. They weren’t interested in taking a broader look not just at the work, but at her whole life. That’s when I got the idea to contact a University.”

Bette put down the slides and leaned on her desk. “Okay, so why CU?”

“I read about your show, ‘Provocations.’”

At the mention of the show, Bette almost flinched. It was over two years, and the name still dredged up so many strong feelings, mostly negative feelings.

“I thought,” the woman continued, “that if you were interested in showing the cutting edge of the art world, perhaps you’d also be interested in focusing on the marginalized artist.”

“So there’s no chance of the artist being able to attend an opening?”

“I’ve gotten some teleconferencing rates. That I can arrange. But travel, no. Even if she could get an extended travel pass, the United States DHS is unlikely to let her in. I’ve found they’re exceedingly difficult when it comes to visas for ex-cons. Arranging a visit for someone who’s still incarcerated would be near bloody impossible.”

“That’s too bad.” Bette passed the sleeve of slides back to her guest. “I’d like to meet this Daniella Blood.”

“Denny. That’s what she prefers to be called.”

“Okay, Denny.”

“If you’d like, I can arrange a conference call.”

“I’d like.” Bette stood. “We’ll talk to James, my assistant, and he’ll arrange things for us.”

As the visitor stood, she picked up one of the pictures of Angelica that decorated the Dean’s desk. “Oh, is this your daughter?”

“Yes.” Bette couldn’t help but beam at the chance to brag.

“She’s adorable.”

“Thanks.”

“You and your partner must be quite pleased.”

Bette raised an eyebrow at the term. “You have been doing your homework.”

“I like to be thorough.”

“Well, her mother and I have split up, but we’re both active in her life.”

“I guess my information is a wee bit out of date, but she’s adorable nonetheless.”

“Thank you.” With that, Bette led her guest to the door. “Now, Ms. Stewart, shall we arrange that call.”

Helen Stewart allowed herself a bit of an accomplished smile as she followed the Dean’s lead out of the office. So far, things were working together quite neatly. Quite neatly indeed.

(tbc?)