The Fresco by Sheri S. Tepper Page A

manager. We need somebody like you, we really do. Someone well educated, personable, capable…”
    She almost blurted out the truth, but managed to keep her mouth shut. She had continued her education. Never mind if it hadn’t been inside ivy-covered walls, she’d done it.
    â€œI’ll let you know tomorrow,” she murmured, collecting her purse. “I’ll drop in tomorrow morning.”
    â€œWere you coming in to buy something?” he asked. “When I saw you outside?”
    He took her by the hand, casually, and drew her out into the stacks where he helped her pick half a dozen books, a gift, he said.
    â€œBy the way,” he murmured as he let her out, “my name is Simon DeGreco. My card is here, in the top book, and I’ll be here all day tomorrow.”
    She turned toward him and removed the dark glasses. “If you check my references, please don’t tell either of my bosses where I’d be working. I’ve left a…difficult situation, and I don’t want it to come looking for me.” She looked straight at him.
    His eyes fixed on the swollen eye, now turning shades of chartreuse and pale violet. “I’ll be discreet,” he said, crossing his heart, not making a big thing out of it. She decided she liked him.
    She got back to the hotel at six, and called Angelica from her room before she even put the books down.
    â€œSweetie, can you settle down and talk for a few minutes?”
    â€œI’m on my way out, Mom.”
    â€œI need to talk to you, Angelica. Really. Right now. And I’m not where you can call me back.”
    Long pause. “Give me ten minutes, Mom. Then call back. I’ll let my ride go on without me and arrange to meet them later.”
    She hung up and sat on the bed, swinging her feet, staring out the window at nothing. She’d never lived in a city, not really. Though the farm was gone, the house Bert had inherited was more semirural than suburban, and the city wasn’t high density, even in its core. The Washington area was huge, with lots of crime and race problems and poverty. But one could work in Washington and live wherever one wanted. Out in Virginia, or in Maryland, or in Georgetown. Too expensive, probably.
    She glanced at her watch. Five minutes more. She and Angelica talked at least once a week, though it had been two weeks this time. Angelica wasn’t telling her something. She had that feeling the last half dozen times they’d talked. She glanced at her watch again and dialed. She had decided not to mention aliens. Angelica was not very imaginative; she was really more pragmatic and aliens might set her off in the wrong direction. Make it a small inheritance. That was no less unlikely, but it was more believable.
    At the end of five minutes, Angelica asked plaintively, “Mom, who was the cousin who left you the money?”
    â€œYou never knew her, dear. She was a very old lady, and I hadn’t seen her in years. She was fond of my mother. And the money doesn’t amount to much, but it’s enough for me to get away from…well, you know what from. What I really want to know is will you and Carlos…will you be hurt if I do this?”
    â€œMom, I can’t speak for Carlos. Last year, I didn’t see that much of him. He roomed with those three other guys, and I was in the dorm, and it wasn’t like we were really staying in touch. This year…I have a confession to make. I toldyou he thought we should share an apartment to save money…”
    â€œI told you, Angel…”
    â€œâ€¦you told me not to, but he talked me into it…”
    â€œOh, Angel! Did you? When?”
    â€œSince June.”
    â€œYou didn’t tell me! You’ll…you’ll regret it, dear.” She thought of those black, black moods that Carlos had, moods that should be transitory, but in his case were nurtured and fed and coddled until they became a black