Bette was less conscious of her own internal conflicts than was Tina. She spent her days studying the art of beauty, and her nights exploring the beauty of her artist. Her life was full of love, and she reveled in it. She even succeeded in convincing herself that nothing lacked, that she had everything she desired. Most of the time.  

But once in a while, when her thoughts idly wandered, Bette caught herself imagining a different life. The scenes came to her mind unbidden, rising from the depths of memories past and dreams yet unfulfilled. Always at the center of those memories was Tina: Tina holding Angelica in her arms and smiling up at Bette; Tina cooking dinner for the three of them, greeting Bette with a kiss and a laugh; Tina rolling over in bed and sleepily acknowledging Bette’s touch with a soft, "Babe?"  

Was this the truest beauty, then? The endurance of love, not the ephemerality of passion? In those moments, Bette could conceive of no portrait more moving than that of Tina and Angelica by her side, her family whole at last. Tears welled in her eyes when she realized that her reality did not match the pictures in her mind.  

As the summer wound down and fall term neared, Bette and Jodie talked more and more of the future. Bette was content in her position as dean. The students were inspiring, the fundraising and politics something she excelled at, and the opportunity to share her devotion to art with eager students a treat. Jodie, however, seemed unsettled. She had finished her installation in New York, but the board had filled her post at the university. Bette offered her an adjunct position, but she was powerless to give more. Jodie was beginning to show signs of restlessness, even as she assured Bette that she would not leave.