***Introducing Another Important Character

Madeline sat, gazing contentedly at the still-life she had just composed. Maybe still-life was not quite the right word. Maybe composing afternoon tea delights would be more apt. There was something splendid about the squat, rather modern teapot that dominated the raspberries. The cornflower blue of the pot contrasted nicely against their happy reddish color. Hmm, she wondered. Could she really bear to do a quick rendering of this delicious scene without robbing it of one raspberry? Perhaps, just one would not affect too much. There now, not even noticeable, and the sweetness of the berry, eclipsing a tad bit of bitter darkness, pleased her palette far more than a sketch would. Maybe the composition could afford the loss of another sweet element? Yes, yes, it could. Perhaps, even a third? No, no, no, no, No.

Stop it, she told herself. Indulgence can be pleasurable within measure. Out of measure it was down right gluttonous. Anyway, it would not be long before her composition would be dismantled, trespassed upon by unsuspecting fingers reaching for a berry or a cup of tea.

Brushing a lock of hair out of her eyes, still black when others her age had long been grey, she began the sketch. The hair fit nicely behind her ear and even stayed…for five seconds. Penny had advised using gel to help it stay back behind her ears, but frankly all Madeline could think of was a greaser type she had known in her youth. Most definitely no gel for her.

She allowed her mind to clear completely and form, line, shape, and texture began to inhabit the whole of her being. She supposed this was a bit like meditating, perhaps even channeling. So focused was she on the textural difference between fruit and porcelain that she did not even realize she was on autopilot, hand moving, eyes gazing, but something else seemed to control the movements of her hand. There was no thought of Rog, not even a sigh in reference to Joan, just pencil upon canvas - scratch, scratch, scratching out what would later in the evening become a vibrant painting.

It was well that she worked diligently, for the natural sunlight on the porch was slowly shifting, changing the shadows. But that was no problem. They were there, captured in the moment on a two-dimensional surface. Madeline was suddenly back from the reverie of aesthetics, and had become aware that a fair amount of time had gone by since she had begun. Feeling the teapot, she was a little surprised to find it now with just a hint of warmth. The sun was dropping indeed.

Where on earth was Rog? He came over every Monday at this time to catch up, do some handy work and enjoy the various treats his mother prepared. Today it was raspberry tarts. Joan would almost approve, accept for the eggs involved. She smiled at this. Perhaps she should call Joan and see what was detaining Rog, but that might seem intrusive to her soon-to-be daughter in law. She also had a feeling Joan did not approve of Rog spending so much time with her, though Rog assured her that was not the case. Since when did a young man in the world of today not have a cell phone? Surely that mentality was reserved for her generation. Until this moment, she had applauded him on his stance against the technological tide that had flooded the world. Now she was just a bit, just a very little bit, irritated.

Perhaps she would call Penny instead. Penny might know to find Rog. So Madeline picked up her cell phone and dialed.