“Me too. I didn’t want to have to drop the guy at his dad’s funeral.”
Pen’s lips parted like she was going to say something, but she didn’t. Just gazed at me, like she was seeing me for the first time.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing.” She shook her head a little. “Anyway, he was a mess. I wonder if that’s normal behavior for him or if it was the result of grief.”
“I don’t know. He was yelling about his dad cutting him off. And his mom just watched that other dude escort him out.”
“My guess is ongoing conflict, and Gina and that Curt guy were prepared for the worst.”
“I bet you’re right.” I put my hand on the steering wheel and looked out the windshield for a moment. “I feel bad for his wife. Lost her husband and has a messed-up son.”
“I can’t even imagine. She looked like she was holding herself together, though.”
“She did. Probably one of those people who’s good at putting on a brave face in public.”
“Who knows how she’s coping in private.”
“Where do you think Michael ended up?” I asked. We hadn’t seen any sign of him when we’d left the gallery.
“Hopefully he got a ride home. Now I’m so curious. Is he married? Does he have a family? Where does he live? Did his dad cut him off because he has a drinking problem? What does cutting him off even mean?”
“What if Michael found out about his dad’s affair and that’s why they had a falling-out?”
She gasped. “Ooh, that’s a good theory. Or maybe Michael was a talented artist who threw it all away to study math and his dad never forgave him for it.”
“Hey, I have a math degree.”
“I know, but your dad isn’t an artist.”
“True. And he never tried to get me to follow in his footsteps, either.”
She moved the painting so it was flat on her lap, face up. “I guess we’ll never know.”
“Probably not. Although you know the gossip line is going to pick up on the Edwin-Morris-was-cheating story, whether it’s true or not.”
“Poor Gina.”
“Yeah, it’s brutal.” I looked down at the painting. “That’s really nice. Where are you going to put it?”
“I don’t know. I’m not sure where we have room.”
She hadn’t said it, but all I heard was,I’m not sure where Sean will let me hang it. I resisted the urge to grip the steering wheel in frustration.
“Can I ask a favor?” Pen’s voice was soft. “You already did me a big favor by coming, so I don’t want to impose, but hopefully this is a small one. Except—”
“Hey,” I said, gently interrupting her. “It’s fine. What do you need?”
“Could you keep this for me? Just until I figure out where to put it. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to it, you know?”
“No problem.” I hesitated, wondering if she was going to explain further. There was something in her voice—a sense that she meant more than just needing a place to keep the painting until she decided where to hang it. Was this about more than wall space? Was she thinking about leaving—
“Anyway,” she said, talking fast, “thank you so much. I’m afraid I would have frozen up if I’d gone in there alone. And I did not expect that to turn into the opening scenes of a soap opera.”
“It was morbidly entertaining. Even better than trying to figure out if Jeremy and Ashley are hooking up at work.”
She laughed. “We still haven’t figured out if we’re right.”
