“Bob and Audrey are coming over tonight,” Sherry said. “Audrey wants to see the painting I did for Nancy before I deliver it.”
I was very nice to our company. They would have never guessed I was dying to be watching the Friday night boxing match on TV.
“It’s a beautiful painting,” Audrey told Sherry over a glass of wine. “You must have some wonderful paints and brushes.”
“Thank you very much,” Sherry said.
She sounded so sincere that I’m the only one who knew she was boiling mad.
“What kind of compliment was that?” she asked, after Bob and Audrey left.
“It sounded like a compliment to me,” I said.
“No, it wasn’t. It sounded like she thinks the reason the painting is good is because I have such wonderful paints and brushes. You notice she didn’t mention anything like talent or skill or that I might be a decent artist.”
Yesterday afternoon Sherry took a phone call from Audrey asking us to dinner.
“Did I just hear you say you’re looking forward to dinner tonight at Bob and Audrey’s?” I asked.
“You certainly did.”
“After last week’s visit from them?”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
After dinner that evening Audrey asked, “Did you guys get enough to eat?”
“I ate way too much,” I said.
“Me too,” Sherry said. “Everything was delicious. You must have some amazing pots and pans.”
