“It’s called, “Collecting Imagery: Black Art of the 19^th and 20^th Centuries and the guy speaking is named Ashton Schwartz.”

“Ashton Schwartz?”  Bette’s eyes brightened.

“Yeah.  Says he’s worked at two world-renown auction houses in New York and teaches at NYU.”

“I know who he is.”  Bette casually moved her hair away from her face and worked to appear nonchalant.  “That’s tomorrow at 6, right?”

“Right.”

“I think I’ll go to that opening tonight, too.”  She reached out her hand for the paper as James walked to her desk.  “Thanks, James.  You’ve saved my weekend.”

“Glad to help. Anything else?”

“No, not right now.”

This time when James left, his hand reached out and pulled the sliding door closed.

* * * * *

It was 4:45 and Bette still hadn’t heard from Alice.  She had invited her to accompany her to the opening of the sculpture exhibit, but Alice was working on her own time clock today.  Soon, Bette would have to leave to get there on time.  Heading west on Santa Monica Boulevard during rush hour was always a bear; then she had to get on campus and with the continuing construction, she was sure to get lost.  Every time she went to UCLA, there was a new building and fewer and fewer parking spaces.  She’d give Alice ten more minutes, but that was it.

Just then Bette’s mobile phone vibrated on top of her desk.  She flipped it open and saw Alice’s work number.  “No time like the present, Al.”

“Sorry.  I just got out of a staff meeting.  Should I meet you there?”

Bette glanced at her watch.  “Yeah, I guess so.  The unveiling is at six and the reception begins at seven.”

“All right, I’m on my way.”

Bette disconnected.  She had really wanted to share the drive with Alice.  The only time she learned anything about Tina was when Alice gave up information.  Tina wanted nothing to do with Bette and no amount of pleading, demanding, or groveling on Bette’s part had changed her mind.  Those seven years ended abruptly with any happy times they had shared seemingly lost forever.  Why she still longed for Tina in spite of the clear message that she didn’t stand a snowball’s chance in ***** was beyond Bette.