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What she did? What he did, she meant. But still he did as he was told, and joined her on the chair, taking in the scenery. To him it just looked like a big mess.

“See what I was trying to do there?” asked Harriet, as she studied the work of art with a critical eye. “The breadth of incarnation and the whimsy of adhering to a strict delineation inherited down the ages is perfectly reflected in the daring touches as applied with a bold and deft flourish by an artist’s innate folly.”

He had absolutely no idea what she just said, but as long as it meant that he was done, he was all for it.“Absolutely,” he said therefore. “Just what I thought.”

Harriet beamed upon him with an expansive smile.“Brutus, my dear heart, I think we’ve just created my very first masterpiece! Hurray!”

“Hurray indeed,” he echoed.

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Inside the house, Gran was holding Grace, gently rocking her in her arms. She was staring out the kitchen window, wondering what it was that Harriet thought she and Brutus were doing. When Harriet had asked for supplies to start her budding artist’s career, she hadn’t thought much of it. Cats are funny creatures, and Harriet took the cake when it came to eccentricity sometimes. But painting? Then again, if Bob Ross was to be believed, anyone could paint, so why not cats? And she had to admit there was something soothing about watching acat paint.

Maybe she could make a video and post it on YouTube. God knows people could use something uplifting in their lives.

She turned away from the window and returned to the living room, where she proceeded to cast one eye on the television, and a second eye on her smartphone to see if Scarlett had replied to her message. Her friend had told her she was dropping by, but had neglected to add when.

On TV, some breaking news bulletin was being aired, and when the word‘Millions’ flashed by on the crawler, Vesta’s attention was immediately drawn.

“Today a painting by Vincent Van Gogh was sold at auction for no less than three hundred million dollars!” an excitable newscaster intoned breathlessly.

“Three hundred million!” Vesta cried, suddenly feeling just as breathless as the woman on the screen. “For that ugly piece of crap? How is that even possible!”

Grace must have thought the exact same thing, for she gurgled,“Brap!”

“Brap indeed,” said Vesta, rubbing her great-grandchild’s back. “Did you hear that, sweetie? That ugly painting just sold for three hundred million smackeroos!”

“Mackemoos!” Grace prattled happily.

“Exactly!”

Just then, Scarlett walked in through the kitchen door, as was her habit. She was dressed to impress, in a short-short skirt and skimpy tank top, that emphasized her ample assets, her lips and nails a vivid red, as was her hair. It was hard to believe that she was the same age as Vesta herself, though it did take her some effort to look that way.“Hey, hun. Hey there, cutie pie,” she said as she tickled Grace on the cheek with one of those long nails. “Everything all right, Vesta? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

“Some ugly-ass painting by some guy named Van Gauche just sold for no less than three hundred million bucks! I mean, my cats can paint better than this guy!”

“Which is exactly why you should join me and Marge for art class.”

“What art class? What are you talking about?”

“Haven’t I told you? I’ve been going to art class with Marge and Charlene.”

She would have told her friend that art was for suckers, which was her standard response when someone asked her to do something she didn’t want to, but she still had one eye on the screen, and that news ticker was still screaming.

“And I have to say that your daughter has a lot of talent, hun.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Cross my heart. That girl is going places. Even Chanda is saying it.”

“Chanda?”

“Chanda Chekhov. Our teacher.”

“Huh. Well how about that?”

“Here, let me show you what I did last night,” said Scarlett, and took out her phone. How she managed with those insane nails, Vesta did not know, but moments later she was staring at a drawing, and it wasn’t half bad either.

She squinted as she took in her friend’s creation. “Is that… a naked dude?”

“Yeah, we’ve been drawing nudes all month.”

She reeled a little.“Wait a minute. Are you telling me that some naked guy comes in and you make drawings of him while he just… lies there on a couch?”

Scarlett grinned.“Pretty cool, huh? And I gotta tell you, ever since Naked Guy has started coming in, the number of students has tripled. And it’s not all women either. We’ve got at least three guys in our class, though I think they’re all gays.”

“And is Marge drawing this guy, too?”

“Sure. We all are. Here, I took a picture of Marge’s drawing.”

Vesta stared at the sketch. Marge’s work certainly showed a predilection for the artistic. Still, there was something wrong with the drawing, though she couldn’t immediately put her finger on it. But then she had it. “Naked Guy is certainly well-endowed.”