She clicked out, and then bent to remove her shoes, to walk on the sand.  She headed towards the beach, closer to the group of kite surfers floating in the darkening sky.  As she neared, she picked an open spot on a mound on the beach with a good view of the kite surfers, and the surrounding beach scene.  She sat, and dug her toes in the sand, hugging her knees to her chest.

She’d buried herself in work upon her return from Paris, to distract herself from the emotional turmoil of her break-up with Jodie.  There were a few artists she’d been trying to pull a show together with, and, immediately upon her return, she invited them to her house for drinks to see if they’d be interested in a holiday-themed exhibit.   There was a risk that she wouldn’t be able to pull things together, given the short preparation time before the Black Friday early morning opening they had targeted.  But key elements had fallen into place, including the decorator she normally turned to, who’d also worked as a set designer for an LA-based ballet company.

He had readily agreed to work with her on the exhibit, when Bette had called, admitting he’d be alone that Thanksgiving, and didn’t have any urgent projects to work on.

“I’m sorry this is all last minute… and thanks a lot for helping me.  But no one should be alone for Thanksgiving, Xavier,” Bette responded, with some concern. “You’re more than welcome to join my sister and I, and our friends, for dinner.”

He’d been touched by her friendly gesture, and had executed an inspired design for Bette’s gallery exhibit – scattering glittery large-sized figures of animal figures, coated in gold, all over the gallery, and hanging gold and silver vines, oversized leaves, and flowers from the gallery ceiling.  He and Bette couldn’t agree on the design scheme for the gallery windows, however, and the elegant exterior of the building.  But the gallery was otherwise ready for the exhibit.  There were only a few blank spaces left around the gallery, which Bette had hoped to fill with the works of the exciting young artist from San Francisco that she’d asked Peggy to talk to, on her behalf.

While she enjoyed watching the kite-surfers execute daring moves over the pounding surf, half an hour after settling into her perch on the sand, Bette began to feel a chill from the cold stiff wind blowing in from the ocean.  She decided to head back to her car.