Favorite Blog: BALLHONEYS BALL HONEYS far as I know," his mother replied, "She told me she'd given up on men."
His father's response was, "Humph; or they've given up on her," and then he returned to reading a magazine and his mother to her ironing, and there was silence.
On Friday evening, Paul, carrying a small case containing his weekend study work, a change of underwear and the bottom half of his summer pyjamas, rang Jean's doorbell.
Always well dressed, when she opened the door Paul was momentarily captivated. She was wearing a slack suit the colour of which matched the green of her eyes and at the same time it seemed to enhance the gleam of her dark hair.
The suit was very simple in its lines and moulded nicely to her figure. She wore no jewellery and very little makeup, and Paul, despite his slightly jaundiced view of Jean, decided that she was about to turn a few male heads at the opera that night, that is, until she focused those penetrating eyes on one of them, in which case the admiring male would probably wither up.
She said, Hello Paul," and then silently motioned for him to enter.
He'd been inside her house before but always in his mother's company. Typical of Jean the place was tastefully furnished, but in a style a few decades behind the times. He'd heard his mother refer to it as "The Scandinavian style" ¡V the plain pinewood design.
On the walls were paintings by what Paul later learned was called the Impressionist School. He also learned that they weren't "the real thing" because even well-off Aunt Jean could never have afforded the originals; she was in fact quite comfortable financially, but not quite as comfortable as that.
Home - Squirthunter
