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Jerry suggested they find somewhere to sit.
    “There’s some room in the den, I think.” They followed him as he led the way into a comfortable room off the living area. After they sat down he said, “Peter, I’d like you to paint a portrait of Emily if you would.” He smiled at his fiancée. “It would be my engagement gift to you, darling.”
    “Oh Jerry, that’s so sweet.” Emily took his hand. “But I think Peter is very busy, and I’m such a fidget when it comes to sitting still, even for a photograph.”
    But Jerry was adamant. “You would find time for her, wouldn’t you Peter?”
    “Of course. And don’t worry, I don’t believe in lengthy sittings.”
    “Peter has a photographic memory,” Jeff interjected. “It’s come in quite handy a couple of times.”
    “Really?”
    “Did you know he was in a coma for three years?”
    Jerry nodded. “Yes, Gloria and Johnny told us about your ordeal, Peter. That must have been hellish.”
    “When he started to regain some of his memory of the attack, he was able to draw a sketch of one of the perpetrators.”
    “Wow,” Jerry exclaimed. “That’s some memory—three years down the road.”
    “Well…” Peter set his glass down on a nearby table. “Remember, it didn’t seem like three years to me. Time was like, kaleidoscoped for me into a much shorter time frame. Anyway, Jeff’s right. I could paint you now from just the time we’ve been together. What I like the sittings for are to more or less talk to my subject, get a feel for their personality, the way they smile, move, that kind of thing. Something I can use to make them a real individual, not just a flat image on canvas.”
    “So it’s all settled then?” Jerry’s excitement flared in his eyes.
    Emily looked nervous at the prospect, so Peter said gently, “Why don’t I call you in the morning and let you know my schedule? I’m sure we can fix up some suitable times.”
    “That’s a great idea,” Jerry enthused.
    They were interrupted by party guests, some wanting to congratulate Peter on his portrait of Gloria, and others who’d heard of Emily and Jerry’s engagement. For a time they were engaged in small talk, then Peter winked at Jeff who nodded. That was their signal that they were ready to go.
    “Well…” Peter got to his feet. “What say we find our merry hostess and bid her a fond farewell?”
    After telling everyone good night, and Peter reminding Emily he’d call her in the morning, he and Jeff went off in search of Gloria and Johnny to let them know they were leaving. They found the two of them on the patio, slow dancing now to the strains of some Latin American music.
    “Oh, you can’t go yet.” Gloria pouted from the haven of her husband’s arms, but it was a weak protest and she sleepily kissed them both goodbye before pressing her face against Johnny’s chest again and closing her eyes. Johnny grinned at them both over the top of his wife’s head.
    “We’ll see ourselves out…”
    The room had thinned out now and Peter noticed Charles Hastings standing by the fireplace alone. He was looking grimly around him as he downed what looked like yet another bourbon.
    “What a dick,” Peter remarked as they pulled away from the house.
    “Who has?”
    Peter nudged Jeff with his elbow. “Not who has, who is . Emily’s dad. Didn’t you see him standing by the fireplace looking totally pissed off?”
    “Yes, I did. Not a happy man. Now tell me what happened between you and Emily a little while back.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “You know, when I asked you if you were okay?”
    “Oh that…” Peter paused to think how he could explain the feeling he’d had. “I sensed something in her that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Some real kind of sadness she can’t quite shake off no matter how happy she is at the moment.”
    “You mean like she’s hiding something from everyone?”
    “Yeah, something like that. I got the feeling too that she felt the