I awoke late that afternoon, well before Ephram did. Not too surprising, since as a Fledgling his sleep patterns were based on the rise and fall of the sun and it was still low on the horizon. After washing up, I dressed in jeans and a T-shirt and went out onto the balcony. The Quarter was definitely busy. But then when wasn’t it? Glancing down, I saw Vince locking the door behind him as he left the gallery.
“Did we have any sales?” I called down.
He looked up, giving me a wave. “One of the Carlton’s sold, to a woman from Ohio. We’re shipping it up to her. The ridged vase by de Sauvetterre will end up in—I think the guy said he was from Utah. And two smaller drawings are gone as well.”
“A good day then.”
“Definitely,” he replied. “Now if you could find someone to work nights, you’d be
