Page 24 of Little Twisted Things

“Can I help you with anything?” I walked over.

“We’re just looking at the moment,” her friend said.

I lingered around to hear their conversation.

“This isn’t you, Bethanny. Years ago, when you caught him, you told him if he ever did it again, you were divorcing him.”

“I know. And he vowed it would never happen again.” She wiped a tear from her eye. “But since I quit work to raise Macy, he controls all the finances. I can’t afford to leave him. Besides, his lawyer is a shark, and I won’t get anything. I gave that man twenty years of my life, raised his daughter, and this is how he thanks me? He goes and screws someone half his age?” She shook her head. “I swear to God. I just want someone to make him understand what he did to us.”

It was like an open invitation. Almost as if she were begging for someone to right the wrongs of her husband. I inhaled a deep breath. She stopped in front of a painting by one of our newest artists. It depicted a lone woman standing at the edge of the ocean. The title card beneath it read: Starting Over.

“This is one of my favorites,” I said, walking over to her.

She couldn’t stop staring at it. Perhaps she saw herself in that painting.

“It’s beautiful and emotional,” she said. “She looks lonely.”

“You think?” I cocked my head, staring at the painting. “I think she looks hopeful.”

“My therapist told me that I need to stop putting everyone else first. I haven’t bought a new piece of art in years.”

Her friend walked over and studied the painting. “It’s almost as if that painting is meant to be yours, Bethanny,” she said.

“You think?” She glanced at her friend. “For some reason, I can’t stop staring at it.”

“It would look fabulous above the couch in the living room.”

“How much?” Bethanny asked.

“$6,500.”

“Use his damn credit card and buy it. He owes you that much,” her friend said. “That way, when you finally decide to kick his ass to the curb, you’ll have this painting to get you through it.”

“You’re right. I’ll take it.” She glanced at me.

“You’ve made the right decision.” I smiled, removing the painting from the wall.

I took it behind the register to ring it up.

“Have you ever bought from us before?” I asked.

“No. I haven’t.”

I clicked the keys on the iPad. “Can I please see your I.D.?”

She removed her driver’s license from her wallet and handed it to me. I typed in her name and address.

“Now, you’re in our system for the next time you come in. How would you like to pay?”

“Credit card.” She handed me the card.

I glanced at the name on the card before swiping it. Lawrence Gearheart. Perfect. Now I had his name and address. I swiped the card, and the transaction was complete. After handing her card back, I wrapped the painting and handed it to her.

“I truly hope you enjoy your new little gem.” I smiled.

“Thank you. I’m sure I will.” She and her friend walked out of the gallery.

Grabbing a piece of paper, I wrote down her husband’s name and address.