Leap Year by Peter Cameron Page A

tricky situation. I decided it would be best if we let her stay on—you know: Humor her.”
    “Anton, darling, we had an agreement. Comprends ?”
    “Yes,” said Anton. “It’s just that…well, maybe it’s a joke.”
    “In my short, unhappy acquaintance with Ms. Paine, she did not strike me as being a humorous woman. I doubt it’s a joke. And here she’s canceled Gilberto’s show—Gilberto, who I hasten to remind you is our only economically profitable client—and replaced him with pictures of bestiality!”
    Anton took another look at the photograph. “I don’t know,” he said. “This looks kind of interesting. Amanda has an excellent eye.”
    “I hadn’t thought it was her eye that made an impression on you.”
    “Oh, Solange, don’t get nasty. You know it’s over between Amanda and me. You know that.”
    “I know we had an agreement, and I know I kept my half of it. I’m not so sure what I know about you and Miss Paine.”
    “Well, listen, don’t worry. I’ll take care of it. I’ll call Amanda and find out what’s going on.”
    “I think not,” said Solange. “I think, my darling, I will proceed from here, as I should have proceeded long ago. Give me that postcard.”
    “No. What are you going to do with it?”
    “Give it to me,” said Solange. She held out her hand.
    Anton gave her the postcard. She smiled at it, and then she spat, quite neatly, onto it. “You too,” she said, holding it out for him.
    “No,” said Anton.
    “Spit,” commanded Solange.
    Anton complied.
    Solange rubbed their spittle together with her finger, all the while making low, guttural noises in her throat. Then she ripped the postcard into tiny pieces, which she divided into two piles. She gave half of them to Anton. “Here,” she said. “Bon appetit, my love.”
    “No,” said Anton, but he knew it was futile. He watched Solange and did as she did: He put the moist fragments of card into his mouth and chewed them. Their eyes were locked. Solange was smiling. She leaned forward and kissed her husband. Chewed paper and tongue mingled in their mouths.
    Lyle Wallace was sad to be losing Kate. Though their acquaintance had been short—a little less than a week—it had been long enough for Lyle to grow fond of his ward. In fact, he found he preferred her to his own Kate, who seemed by comparison rather a dull child. On the morning of her departure, he awoke with a sullen heart.
    He bathed Kate and carefully dressed her in the party dress she had been wearing on her arrival.
    “Guess who you’re going to see today?” he asked her as he unpinned the name tag from her frilly chest.
    “Who?” wondered Kate.
    “Your mom and dad,” said Lyle. “They’re back from their vacation.”
    “They went on vacation?”
    “Yeah. Remember, I told you: They asked me to take care of you while they went on vacation.”
    “Where did they go?” asked Kate.
    “Portugal,” said Lyle.
    “Did Gregory and Heath go too?”
    “I don’t think so,” said Lyle. “But maybe.”
    In the car Kate seemed preoccupied. She stared out the window at the traffic stalled all around them.
    “Are you going to miss me?” Lyle asked.
    Kate looked over at him. “Why?” she said.
    “Well, we’ll probably never see each other again.”
    “Oh,” said Kate. She played with the clasp of her seat belt.
    “Keep it buckled,” Lyle said.
    “Maybe if they go on vacation again, you’ll take care of me,” Kate said.
    Lyle looked down at her and smiled. “Maybe,” he said.
    Sonia was waiting for them in the lobby.
    “Finally,” she said to Lyle. “They’re foaming at the bit. Talk about uptight New Yorkers.”
    “Well, here she is,” said Lyle.
    Sonia knelt down and smoothed Kate’s hair. “Hi, Kate,” she said. “How was Disneyland?”
    “Good,” said Kate.
    “You look so pretty. Are you ready to see your mom and dad? They want to see you!”
    Kate didn’t answer. She was looking over Sonia’s shoulder, down the long