"No fire engine," she said to Amber. "Huh?" AhnRee had said something to Amber and Amber was asking why they shouldn't try living in his studio.
"You will find it most private," AhnRee said. "It is some distance from the main house. In return, a bit of modeling, say, once a week? Say you will," he pleaded.
"Only if it is all right with Willow," Amber said, kicking Willow in the ankle.
"Ah, Willow," AhnRee said, wrenching his eyes from Amber who was becoming ever more elusive, more of a muse.
"Where is this place?" Willow asked.
"A short drive up the mountain. An easy ride on a bicycle. In fact, I have several bicycles—if you don't mind the old fashioned kind with baskets on the handlebars."
"And what do I have to do?" Amber kicked her again.
AhnRee considered. "You may mow the lawn around the studio. And, if you wish, attend a little to the flowers."
Willow had given in, and it had been fine. AhnRee had left them alone. And Amber seemed to enjoy modeling. "It's not so bad, being admired," she told Willow.
"Well," Willow said, coming back to the present, "you knocked Patrick out with that bit about foggy mornings on the Galapagos Islands."