Bob waited about five minutes for Benjamin to return before opening the door to the basement again. Mahui made no sound.

"Are you there?" Bob asked. A whimper came up the stairs from the dark, and he took one step down towards it. "Did you hurt yourself?" he asked next.

Mahui spoke in a little voice. "I hurt my knee. I think it's broke."

Bob took a few more steps down. He stopped when he saw Mahui's eyes shining bright. She gave him another sad whimper.

"It hurts bad!"

Bob stayed on the stairs, as the woman still acted strange. She had her left hand hid behind her knees, where the flute of her dress parted to expose them. She hobbled towards him while in this odd posture, her face alternating between a leer and a grimace.

"Why are you walking like that?"

"It hurts!"

Bob remained cautious, as her behavior was not convincing. She stopped at the base of the stairs, craning her neck to look up at him while still crouched. With the light from upstairs shining down, he could see that, rather than holding onto her knee, she had something hid under her dress.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

Mahui took three quick steps up the stairs and removed her hand from under her dress, revealing an open half pint can of yellow paint. Bob reared back as she flung its contents at him. Since he was still a few steps above her and gravity tends to pull things downhill, most of the paint splashed on her and the steps in between them.

She breezed past, lithe as a puma, dropping the can at his feet. "For heaven's sake!" he exclaimed at her assault, as she cackled and ran back outside.

If it weren't for the fact that Mahui dropped the can at his feet, Bob would have escaped unscathed. As it was, the near-empty can bounced off the step where he stood, splashing splotches on the brocaded shoes of his outfit.

Further examination of the paint on the stairs revealed that she was barefoot. He followed her yellow prints out the door and across the portico, where she again disappeared into the woods. With a huff of exasperation, and partial amusement, Bob pulled a nearby chair up to the treeline and sat, waiting for Mahui to emerge.

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"Benjamin's going to be upset with the mess you made," he said afer a long moment had passed. To another length of silence, he added, "And Ché's going to be mad about her shoes."

"Screw Ché," Mahui said, hidden in the dark.

Bob laughed heartily. "What?" Mahui asked when he stopped.

"That's what my wife said too."

Mahui drew a little closer, enough so Bob could make out her eyes. "Your wife said 'Screw Ché?'"

Bob laughed again. "Yeah. She did, when I decided to throw her shoes over my shoulder rather than wear them."

"You're the barefoot model," Mahui said upon realization.

"I am."

"You weren't wearing shoes when you walked."

"I was not."

Another step closer, and Bob could see Mahui's dress. Its shimmer of silver and highlights of gold were in stark contrast to her jasper brown skin. Its stretchy top was also in contrast to its skirt, which hung loose and flounced around her knees.

Her knees were in contrast to everything, as from there down she was covered in paint.

Bob rose and pulled up a second chair. He patted its seat and sat back in his.

"Come sit," he said to his assailant. "I don't want to talk to the trees."

Tentatively, Mahui approached. Without taking her eyes off Bob for a second, she sat facing him on the edge of the chair.

He leaned back and relaxed. "That's better," he said to her with a smile.

"Why are you here?" Mahui asked after a moment. "I've never seen you before."

"I'm Cecilia's husband. My name's Bob."

He leaned forward and held out a hand. Mahui took it and didn't let go.

"Scylla?" she asked with a polite leer. "The slut who posed nude in the trophy room?"

Bob squeezed Mahui's hand until she winced. "Let's call her Seas," he said with an equal leer.

Mahui's eyes grew wide. "Wow," she exclaimed. "You're her husband, huh? You've got some nerve, showing up here."

Bob leaned back again and breathed deep. "Why? Benjamin is a good friend. So's Tylene."

Mahui became impressed. "You're friends with Tylene Gunn?"

"Yes. Very much. She's been best friends with my wife since childhood."

"The one who posed nude for the sculptor?"

Bob gave a slight eye roll. "Let's try to get over that. She knows Benjamin and Ché and Ty, and a whole host of other designers. Our closets are full of their clothes."

"Benjamin doesn't do clothes," she said, testing him.

"No he doesn't. He does glass. The transom windows above my doors were created by him." Bob acted nonchalant. "Plus a bunch of other stuff lying around. My house is full of art."

Mahui nodded serenely. "I'm sorry I threw paint at you," she said after a while.

"You better be sorry to Ben. There's paint everywhere."

A look of sorrow washed over Mahui. She cast her eyes to her yellow legs. "I am."

Bob stood and again offered his hand, this time to help Mahui to her feet. "Come," he said after she accepted. "Let me show you something."

He led her by her hand to the tables where the hazelnut tea was being served. After seating her at a spot where they could be more to themselves, he retrieved the fob he'd been working on earlier. Sitting beside her, he poured two cups of tea. After stirring in the ground hazelnut, he held up his as a toast.

"To your yellow feet and to screwing Ché," he said with a smile.

With laughter from full lips through perfect teeth, Mahui clinked her cup to his.

"To yellow feet," she said, sipping and giggling.