“Here’s a list of things for you to pick for me while you’re in town,” Sherry said, as I was leaving.
“You must think I’m stupid,” I said. “This list only has three things on it; bread milk and cheese. I don’t need it.”
“I asked you to pick up the same three things last week and you forgot the milk,” she pointed out.
“All right,” I said. “Give me the list. I’m going to visit Melody at her art gallery first, though.”
“Good. You should always spend more time with your daughter.”
“What do you think?” Melody asked, as she showed me around. “This is your first visit since I moved.”
“It’s great,” I said. “I like the layout.”
“What do you mean?”
“I like the way you have the paintings arranged.”
“I don’t really arrange them any particular way,” she said. “When you paint in Belize it’s almost always going to be about the sea or the jungle.”
“These two are different,” I said, as we walked down the aisle. “You don’t usually do still life paintings.”
She said, “Oh, you’re talking about the ones I call Lunch.”
The paintings were nearly identical pictures of a table laid out for lunch. Each table had a glass of wine, two sandwich rolls, a plate of sliced ham, silverware and a jar of mustard.
“Shery would probably like one of these for the house,” I said. “What’s the price?”
“The one on the left is one hundred dollars and the one on the right is one hundred and fifty.”
“But they look almost exactly alike,” I said. “Why does this cost one fifty dollars more?”
“It has more ham.”
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