From the Corner of His Eye

wear yellow."
        In the hall that served the two ground-floor apartments, they encountered Rena Moller, the elderly woman who lived in the unit across from theirs. She was polishing the dark wood of her front door with lemon oil, a sure sign that her son and his family were coming to dinner.
        "I'm an M&M," Angel proudly told their neighbor, as Celestina locked the door.
        Rena was cheerful, short, and solid. Her waist measurement must have been two-thirds her height, and she favored floral dresses that emphasized her girth. With a German accent and in a voice that always seemed about to dissolve in a great gale of mirth, she said, "Madchen lieb, you look like a Christmas candle to me."
        "Candles melt. I don't want to melt."
        "M&M's melt, too," Rena warned.
        "Do wolves like candy?"
        "Maybe. I don't know from wolves, liebling.
        Angel said, "You look like a flower garden, Mrs. Moller."
        "I do, don't I," Rena agreed, as with one plump hand she spread the pleated skirt of her brightly patterned dress.
        "A big garden."
        "Angel!" Celestina gasped, mortified.
        Rena laughed. "Oh, but true! And not just a garden. I'm a field of flowers!" She let go of her skirt, which shimmered like cascades of falling petals. "So tonight will be a famous night, Celestina."
        "Wish me luck, Rena."
        "Big success, total sellout. I predict!"
        "I'll be relieved if we sell one painting."
        "All! Good as you are. Not one left. I know."
        "From your lips to God's ear."
        "Wouldn't be the first time," Rena assured her.
        Outside, Celestina took Angel's hand as they descended the front steps to the street.
        Their apartment was in a four-story Victorian house that dripped gingerbread, in the exclusive Pacific Heights district. It had been converted to apartments with deep respect for the architecture, years before Wally bought it.
        Wally's own house was in the same neighborhood, a block and a half away, a three-story Victorian gem that he entirely occupied.
        Twilight, nearly gone and purple in the west, inspired a bright violet line along the crest of an incoming bank of bay fog, as though the mist were shot through with a luminous vein of neon, transforming the entire sparkling city into a stylish cabaret just now opening for business. The night, soft as a woman come to dance, carried a steely blade of cold in its black-silk skirts.
        Celestina checked her wristwatch and saw that she was running late. With Angel's short legs and layers of red, there was no point in trying to hurry.
        "Where does the blue go?" the girl asked.
        "What blue, sugarpie?"
        "The sky blue."
        "It follows the sun."
        "Where does the sun go?"
        "Hawaii."
        "Why Hawaii?"
        "It owns a house there."
        "Why there?"
        "Real estate's cheaper."
        "I'm not buying this."
        "Would I lie?"
        "No. But you'd tease."
        They arrived at the first comer and crossed the intersection. Their exhalations plumed frostily. Breathing ghosts, Angel called it.
        "You behave yourself tonight," Celestina said.
        "Am I staying with Uncle Wally?"
        "With Mrs. Ornwall."
        "Why does she live with Uncle Wally?"
        "You know that. She's his housekeeper."
        "Why don't you live with Uncle Wally?"
        "I'm not his housekeeper, am l?"
        "Isn't Uncle Wally home tonight?"
        "Only for a little while. Then he is joining me at the gallery, and after the show's over, we're having dinner together."
        "Will you eat cheese?"
        "We might."
        "Will you eat chicken?"
        "Why do you care what we eat?"
        "I'm gonna eat some cheese."
        "I'm sure Mrs. Ornwall will make you a grilled-cheese sandwich if you want."
        "Look at our shadows. They're in front, then they go behind."
        "Because we keep passing the streetlamps."
        "They must be dirty, huh?"
        "The streetlamps?"
        "Our shadows. They're always on the ground."
        "I'm sure they're filthy."
        "So then where does the black go?"
        "What black?"
        "The black sky. In the morning. Where's it go, Mommy?"
        "I don't have a clue."
        "I thought you knew everything."
        "I used to." Celestina sighed. "My brain's not working well right