James Bolen was in the main showroom of the Porter Art Gallery in West Hollywood, CA when he heard the door chimes indicating they had a client. He turned just in time to catch a glimpse of a well-dressed middle aged woman breezing by him with two puppies in tow. She was headed towards the back offices as if she owned the place. Just as she was getting by him James reached out and caught her by the elbow. She stopped in her tracks to address the unwelcomed touch.

“Please unhand me.”

James immediately removed his hand from the woman’s elbow and stepped a respectful distance away from her. He took note of the puppy that she held in her arms bearing its teeth and growling at him while the one on the leash was sniffing dangerously close to his exposed ankles.

Fearing the dogs’ natural instincts to protect their master James moved a little further away. When he looked up the woman had pulled her designer sunglasses down the bridge of her nose as she assessed him with piercing blue eyes. The no nonsense look she gave him made the threat of the dogs more preferable to her wrath.

“I beg your pardon madam. May I help you?” he asked tentatively trying to regain his professional composure and some of the bravado he had expressed earlier.

“I’m looking for Elizabeth Porter. Is she here?”

***

One of James’ most important duties as the gallery manager was to keep people from barging in on its owner unexpectedly. He always announced Bette’s visitors and it was preferable if they made appointments. James knew this woman would not adhere to protocol but he made a feeble attempt anyway.

“Is she expecting you? I don’t recall Ms. Porter mentioning any appointments for this afternoon.”

The woman was becoming exasperated with the young man standing in front of her. She was not used to being handled and questioned in such a manner.

“Listen young man I really don’t have the time or patience to stand here chitchatting with you. Is Elizabeth Porter here or isn’t she?”

Her tone was commanding but James was used to dealing with affluent clients many of whom had an air of self-importance. He didn’t want to back down but instinct told him that he’d better find out who this woman was and make her presence known to Bette post haste.