Claire took a long sip from the shot of Bunnahabhain, setting the glass softly on the table. “That’s what I’m talking about,” said Claire, as she began. “So Laura and Samantha meet Pete, and Kevin starts bringing out his pictures for them to look at, the gatehouse is now a rush rush for Samantha, pictures for the gatehouse, and while Kevin is pulling out the racks, he notices that Pete and Samantha are nowhere in sight. So Kev takes a step out to see into the main gallery, and they’re in a corner snogging like teenagers in a back seat.”

“I don’t care,” shrugged Dex. “He left me, he told me we could still be friends, I found Mark, end of that story.”

“Don’t interrupt,” said Claire. “Laura got all huffy, particularly because Pete said something about her weight, Kevin didn’t quite catch, but she bought three of Pete’s landscapes. Then they all left and Pete has Samantha’s number.”

“Poor Pete,” said Dex.

“I know,” said Claire, “he’s punching way above his weight with her.” She took another sip of her Scotch. “Is that really sparkling water?”

“Yes, are you going to be okay to drive?” asked Dex. Claire’s phone rang, and she saw it was an extension from the Historical Society.

“I’m okay to walk,” said Claire. “Did I tell you Kevin wants to see your dog pictures?”

Dex groaned. “He’s Pete’s gallery,” she said.

“He could be yours, too,” said Claire as she lurched on the uneven brick sidewalk. “You should just wear dog show shoes,” said Dex, steadying her friend.

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