When they were back in the car, he prodded her shoulder. ‘Fancy a nip?’ ‘Why not? Where do you want to go?’ ‘Not a clue. Never been to a pub...hereabouts.’ She smiled, keeping her eyes on the road. ‘A pub you want, a pub you’ll get.’ She drove to the old downtown district, away from the box stores on the state highway and onto the quiet, bricked streets lined with law offices, two banks, antique and hardware stores, a diner, and scattered taverns. He gazed at the buildings. The brickwork was. We strolled along to her house and I washed up as Ashley set out paper plates and pulled the local KFC's cuisine out of the microwave.Two o'clock sharp, Ashley's doorbell chimed. The museum curator was a balding, glasses wearing individual with a ready smile. "Mrs. Winslip, I am Walter Gainsborough and you contacted me about some paintings. One you said was an Eakins. Thomas Eakins lived mostly here in the east, but did travel west in 1888 and we assume he painted there too. If there are enough. More

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