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What do you think of fashioning the centerpiece of my home after this fountain?”
    Pamela studied Eddie carefully. The big man wasn’t pretending. Unfortunately, this wasn’t a joke. He really wanted the wretched thing. She cleared her throat and took a deep breath before plunging into her answer.
    â€œIt is definitely an unusual idea.”
    Eddie and James nodded their heads in enthusiastic agreement.
    â€œI do, however, have some initial concerns. First”—she gestured at the enormous water fiasco—“the size. If I remember correctly, you said your home was roughly twelve thousand square feet. That is, of course, a spacious home, but I’m afraid that even an estate of that size cannot accommodate a fountain of such”—she paused, silently editing out words like monstrous and grotesque —“magnificent dimensions.”
    Eddie threw his head back and laughed heartily, causing several people to stop and stare at him. “Now I understand your shocked expression, my dear. I do not want the fountain inside my home. Rather, I want it to be a focal point in the courtyard. James, show our Pamela what I mean.”
    Smiling, James lifted a beautiful burgundy leather briefcase and extracted a thick manila folder, which he handed to her. She opened it to find detailed color pictures and floor plans of an exquisite Italian-style villa. It was built in a huge U shape around a lovely marble-tiled center courtyard, which was obviously meant to be the focal point of the home. Pamela felt herself nodding in appreciation of the architectural excellence of the home. Then she blinked and took a closer look at the picture. Across the color rendition of the tasteful courtyard someone had scrawled in changes with a pencil. Take out trees. Replace with Roman columns, gold perhaps, as in Forum?
    Gold columns? Her eyes drifted to a column near them. Like a bizarre cross between a whorehouse and a funeral parlor, it was covered with tacky faux marble paint. The top of the column was encrusted with gaudy swirls of gold. She was glad she was sitting down, because her knees felt decidedly weak. She looked back at the penciled-in notes. Instead of tiles, make floor to look like Forum streets. Horrified, Pamela glanced down. The “streets” of The Forum were nothing more than cement that had been textured to look like cheap imitation stone, and then painted muddy brown and varnished. Surely Eddie didn’t mean to exchange the fabulous travertine with cement.
    â€œDo you understand now? I want to transplant this fountain into the courtyard of my home.”
    Pamela felt her mouth open and close, fishlike, as she struggled to find something to say.
    â€œOf course I realize that even though my courtyard is large, it is not big enough to hold an exact replica of the fountain. So, what I have decided is that I want a miniature version. Cut out Caesar, Artemis and Apollo.” His gaze shifted fondly to the center-most statue. “You must keep Bacchus, though. God of the Vine and Fertility. In my home wine is always welcome, and fertility”—his chuckle rumbled—“well, the rules of chivalry remind me that such risqué subjects are not fit for a lady’s ears, so for now I will simply say that I wish to encourage the fertility of creativity and the written word.”
    Pamela ignored the mischievous glint in the big man’s eyes. She certainly didn’t want to get into any kind of fertility discussion with him.
    â€œLet me see if I understand you correctly. What you want is the aura of this fountain, something with its basic shape and design, only on a smaller scale.”
    â€œExactly!” Eddie grinned. “And, of course, I will require it to be animated.”
    This time when Pamela’s mouth dropped open, she didn’t bother to close it.
    â€œEx-Excuse me, uh, M-Mr. Faust?”
    Pamela turned to see three zit-faced teenage boys standing