Nate’s hair was unwashed. He hadn’t shaved. His wrinkled clothes looked slept-in. He passed the hours of the afternoon and night in his studio or out and about and was not the kind of man usually seen in broad daylight before noon. Something was up. He was manically chewing gum, one arm strung over the end of the couch. Agnes looked uncomfortable. “Did I miss something on the calendar?” Edward shook Nate’s hand and kissed Agnes’s cheek as they rose to greet him. “Have you been waiting long?” “I wanted to call first and Nate thought we should just drop in. I hope that’s okay. We’ve been up half the night talking.” Georgia brought in coffee and placed the mugs on the table in front of the couch. Agnes held hers between two hands. She rose and stood in front of the window and looked out at the cityscape, pensive, her sprawling hair in a cascade down her back. Nate started. “Look, Edward. Might as well get down to business. We’re here about the Vanity Fair profile.”
