Odessa smiles in return, with a faint blush to accompany the curl of lips. It's both calculated in its supposed innocence and completely honest about it. "Just the good hostess," she insists.

Life's no fun if you behave all the time. At the top of the stairs, she makes a sweeping gesture to encompass the kitchen-dining-living area combo. "I should hire a decorator or something. I had planned to transplant some of my flowers, move them inside, but..." She shrugs faintly, leaving the implication that her garden may not be what it once was after all the recent to-do.

She moves from the landing and toward the kitchen set-up, and a waiting bottle of wine. "This reminds me very much of a Syrah, though they called it something else. I confess, I can't read the label." She pours a modest amount into the first glass, then glances up to her guest, and friend, to pour into a second. "Say when."