She ejected the CD and put in an old Eagles album. The Italian stuff made her think too much.

Three hours later Eliana arrived in Park City: the mining town turned exclusive ski resort. There was a time when land there could be bought for fifty dollars an acre. Now the old mine shacks on Main Street were being snatched up by the rich and famous for a million dollars and change. Even in the summer months, when the hills were dry and the runs bare, the town was busy with tourists.

She parked her car in the lot at the Linton Gallery then walked down the road two blocks, where she met up with her new art dealer, Marsha Ellington, at a sidewalk café.

A warm mountain flurry descended the Wasatch slopes and ruffled the fringes of the café’s awning. Eliana sat sipping iced tea across from Marsha, who was meticulously spearing the olives from her pasta salad with a fork, then piling them next to a partially eaten hard roll on her bread plate.

“You heard me. I told them, no olives. How hard is that? If he hadn’t taken so long to bring it out in the first place, I’d make them do it over.”

“Olives are good for you,” Eliana said.

“Yeah, well so is Jazzercise, but you don’t see me prancing around in spandex.” She speared another olive and dropped it on the plate. “There are a lot of olive trees in Italy, aren’t there?”

It was like asking if there were a lot of Italians in Rome. “Yes. We had them at the villa.”

“Are there two kinds of trees, black olives and green olives?”

“No. They come from the same tree. All olives are green at first. It’s just a matter of how ripe they are when they’re picked.”

“I’ve wondered about that.” She disdainfully speared another olive, adding it to the pile. “So how’s the adjustment back to American life? Everything getting back to normal?”

“I’m not sure that I know what normal is anymore. It seems that everyone is in a hurry all the time.”

“That’s what we Americans do best.”

She sighed. “Not this one.”

“Good. Artists shouldn’t be in a hurry. Are you going to stay in Vernal?”

“I don’t know. It’s pretty small. I guess we’ll see.”

“There’s plenty of nice places available in Park City. I’ve got an ex who’s a real estate agent up here. Bad husband but good agent. Give me the word and I’ll tell him you’re looking.”

“I’m not sure if Park City is right for us.”

“Well, Park City certainly loves you. You’ve got to be pleased with how things are going.”

“I didn’t know what to expect.”

“Let me tell you, this kind of response for a first showing is extraordinary. I talked to Carolyn on the way up. She said there are only a couple paintings that haven’t sold yet. I’m not surprised. Tuscany is so haute right now.” She took a fork of lettuce and dipped it into a small cup of Italian dressing. “Taking nothing from your talent, of course.”