One morning she asked for the bathroom key. The gal behind the counter tossed the key toward the bathroom door. It was attached to a large key ring and crashed loudly on the floor. "One of your most valued customers," Rhiannon protested, bending over for the key. When she emerged from the bathroom, she drew herself up to her full five foot three and threw the key back on the floor. Joe couldn't help laughing—she was so intense and funny about it.
She had said "Her mother had a place," so he guessed that her father wasn't around. Her parents were probably divorced, maybe not so long ago. She was too self possessed not to have been well loved as a child.
On the day of Mo's business opening, Rhiannon announced that she had the afternoon off. Joe had the invitation to the opening in his shoulder bag and showed it to her. "She's a terrific photographer," he said. "Want to go?"
Rhiannon looked down at her black cotton pants and touched her T-shirt.
"I'll have to change."
"It's not until four o'clock. She's a working gal; it won't be fancy." Rhiannon looked at him as though he were retarded and agreed to meet him there at four-thirty. Later, Joe went home and changed into one of his better aloha shirts. He waited for Rhiannon at the bus stop nearest to Mo's, but she surprised him by getting out of a Charley's cab in front of the door.
"Yo, Rhiannon." He trotted up. "I thought you might come on the bus. God, you look great." She was wearing white linen slacks, huaraches, and a close fitting top with three quarter sleeves and a high neckline. The top was silk, purple with subtle golds and browns. Flat, black, oblong earrings hung partially obscured by her hair. Lip gloss and touches of eye shadow sent the "I know how" message. "You should be standing in a gondola, holding flowers," Joe said.
"Thank you."
They walked into the store and were greeted immediately by Mo. She gave Joe a quick hug, saying, "How nice of you to come." She stepped back and he introduced Rhiannon. Mo's eyebrows lifted as she looked down at her. "I'm glad you could come," she said, extending her hand. "I hope you find some things you like." She indicated the photographs hanging on the walls. "There are more in the next room. Rob?" She beckoned to a portly man with rimless glasses. "Rob, you must meet Joe and—his friend, Rhiannon. Joe and I are old buddies."
"How do you do." They shook hands.
"So," Joe said to them both, "this is where you're going to make a stand—gallery and print shop?"