(Dianne) Fox Writes

“Madam.” The word rolled off his tongue. “Belinda. May I call you Belinda?”

“That depends,” Lindy said. “Who are you?”

He smiled slowly, like he’d been pleasantly surprised by her bluntness. “Phineas.”

“Phineas.” That didn’t tell her anything. “Okay, Phineas. Why are you standing beside my table?”

“Should a gentleman not approach a beautiful lady who catches his interest?” Phineas
asked, spreading his hands wide.

Lindy rolled her eyes, but really, she was flattered. It wasn’t often anyone called her beautiful. She was albino, and that was hardly anyone’s idea of attractive.

Of course, he was albino, too, but he pulled it off better than she could ever manage herself. His skin and hair were pale cream with hints of yellow, a sharp contrast to his dark suit, and the pink of his eyes set off the burgundy of his shirt. When she tried for contrast like that, she just felt washed out, but he looked stunning.

“Well. Are you planning to sit down, then, or are you just going to stand there all night?”