Violette Between

August 4, 2005 Somewhere between the car and the gymnasium, Violette lost her burnt umber. She'd seen it while packing her supplies that morning, and after going back and forth to the house three times to retrieve other items she'd forgotten, she would have spotted it if it had fallen out there. She wondered if she'd ever be organized enough to keep track of her possessions on a consistent basis. She doubted it. "Back in a sec," she called to the art student who was her assistant. The petite girl nodded and waved, then went back to mixing tints in paint trays. Violette retraced her steps to the car, making her way from the back gym door through the parking lot, her eyes glued to the concrete all the way. A few feet from the passenger door of her hatchback she found the tubecrushed flat and oozing its hue onto the blacktop. Only part of her groaned in frustration; the rest of her had to admit that the swirl of paint looked rather artistic. With one last look at the abstract mess squished into the pavement, she turned back to the gym. "Oh well," she sighed. "A new task for Callie then." "Your cell rang," Callie called when Violette walked back into the gym. With a sudden bounce in her step, she made her way to her backpack and pulled the phone from its pocket. She hadn't had it long, and still thought it a bit silly; only three people had the number, and she was hardly the type who needed to be easily accessible. But knowing that Christian could call her any time he had a break in his schedule made it worth it. Sure enough, his number was listed in the call log, and she hit the speed dial as she rummaged through her supplies for her roller brush. "Screening your calls?" he answered, voice teasing. Violette laughed. "Yeah, this thing just never stops ringing!" "How's it going?" "Not as good as I'd hoped. Haven't gotten that far, and my burnt umber took one for the team out in the parking lot." "Uh-oh." "Yeah, but oh well; could be worse. How's your day been?" "Depressing. Two couples bent on divorce and a third where the husband refuses to attend the sessions." "Doesn't sound good." "It isn't. Forget it, though. I'm bringing you guys lunch; what do you want?" "You have to ask?" She could sense his grin through the phone. "I assumed the usual, but with you I can never be sure. Burger Hut it is. Callie want cheese on hers?" "Callie's leaving at eleven thirty. She has a class." "Oh, all right then. Lunch for two. Even betterI'll have you all to myself." Violette's stomach tingled, and she felt the smile spread on her face. "See you in an hour then." Phone closed, Violette hummed as she pushed a new cover onto the paint roller and inspected Callie's mixing. "Looks good, girl. Do me a favor and pick up a tube of burnt umber when you come back this afternoon?" "No problem. What do we do now?" Violette shuffled back a few steps and eyed the wall. "Now we paint a mural." Christian was still a new habit to Violette. It hadn't been that long since they'd simply been friends, and here they were at the beginning of a full-fledged relationship. She hadn't been looking for it quite the opposite, in fact. But love did seem to be evolving. Sometimes she wasnStrobel, Alison is the author of 'Violette Between', published 2006 under ISBN 9781578567942 and ISBN 1578567947.