Martin rang the doorbell then responded to his wife’s question, "No, I actually don’t know if she’s the one who worked with us out in Bangladesh."  He shrugged his shoulders.  "If it’s not her, Sandrine, then we’ll apologize to whomever comes to the door, ok?" 

He smiled encouragingly, "And I promise we’ll get to the Met exhibit in enough time so that you can see the Asian art exhibit you’ve been dying to see." 

Sandrine gave him a playful punch on his arm, "I just want to compare it to the one I saw in Hong Kong, Martin. It’s not that I’m dying to see it."  She paused, then looked up at the impressive mansion-type building they were standing outside of.  "What I am dying to see, however, is the inside of this beautiful mansion." 

He smiled fondly at her, then gave her a quick kiss.  Holding hands, they both stepped back, and looked around, wondering how long they ought to wait.  "Since we’re here anyway," Sandrine continued, thinking out loud, "Do you think whomever’s in there will let us look inside?  It’s just sooo beautiful outside and I’m wondering whether it’s as beautiful inside." 

Martin shook his head with a smile, then rang the doorbell again.  He shrugged his shoulders, and said "Not everything is as beautiful inside as it is outside, Sandrine.  Let’s not get our hopes up.  Buildings are like people that way."

She was about to rebut him when he added quickly, "But I’d like for us to go inside, too, if only to get warm.  It’s so damn cold out here and…"

They heard a voice come out of the speakers, "Hi?"

"Hi," Martin answered hurriedly, "Sorry to bother you, but we were wondering if a Bette Porter lives here?"

"Umm…who’s asking?," the voice asked.

"Martin, Martin Mourin," he responded.  He added hurriedly, "I worked with Bette on a financial literacy project in Bangladesh … um … for rural women.  It was ages ago, though, so I must admit that she may not remember me."  He turned to Sandrine, and shrugged his shoulders. 

"I’m sorry but I’ll have to ask you to wait just a minute, please," the voice answered politely.

"No problem," Martin assured the speaker, as cheerfully as he could.  Brrrrrrr.   Sandrine laughed, and whispered in his ear "You should have worn the fur-lined jacket I gave you, cherie, like I told you."