Chapter 8
Theo
Penelope and I walked to my truck in silence. I wasn’t sure where to start. The gossipy ladies accusing the deceased of having an affair? The woman in question, wearing a dress that barely concealed her boobs? The drunk son, going on a tirade about his father and getting kicked out by his mother?
So. Much. Tea.
It wasn’t that I was a gossip. Not like the Tilikum busybodies who spread rumors like it was their job. I wouldn’t tell anyone. But discuss it—at length—with Pen? Heck yeah, I was doing that. How could I not?
I unlocked my truck and when Penelope got in, I handed her the painting before heading around to the driver’s side and climbing into my seat.
“Wow,” I said, not sure what else to say.
“You can say that again.”
“Where do we start?” I shifted in my seat so I was partially facing her.
She did the same, angling toward me. “Those ladies meant he was having an affair, right?”
“That’s totally what they meant. Did you know anything about it?”
“No, but I don’t really know anything about his personal life. I’ve seen the woman before, though.”
“Amanda? Really?”
Her brow furrowed. “Do you know her?”
I winced. “I sort of went on a date with her.”
Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. “You did not. When? How long did you date her?”
“No, no, no. Wrong idea. I didn’t date her. We went out one time a few years ago. My aunt Louise set us up.”
“Why didn’t you go out again?”
“If I remember, it felt a lot like a job interview. She asked me my annual salary.”
“That’s rude.”
I nodded. “Yup. But that’s what I get for agreeing to an Aunt Louise date. Anyway, do you know her?”
“She was in the painting class I took last summer.”
“So she definitely knew Edwin. Did you notice anything going on between them?”
She paused and pressed her finger to her lips, like she did when she was thinking. “Maybe? He did seem to pay her a lot of attention. But I assumed it was because…”
“Because what?”
“This is going to sound bad, and I don’t mean it that way, but she wasn’t a very good painter. So it seemed like he was spending a lot of time working with her because she needed the help. Like, so much help.”
“Or maybe because he was interested in her. Or they were already boinking on the side.”
“Boinking?” she said with a laugh.
“You know what I mean.” I made a circle with my thumb and forefinger and used my other hand to stick my pointer finger in and out.
She laughed harder. “Nice visual. Thank you for that.”
“In case I’m not being clear, this is the dick.” I held up my pointer finger. “And this is the—”
She smacked my hands. “Stop. I know.”
I chuckled. “All right, so renowned painter, and married man, Edwin Morris might have been having an affair with one of his students. Interesting. Also, disgusting.”
Penelope’s face fell. “I know. It’s very disappointing. I hope those ladies were wrong.”
“Yeah, adultery is fucked up.”
She raised her eyebrows. I was careful with my language at school, so she wasn’t used to hearing me swear.
“It is,” I said with a shrug.
“You’re right. Very.”
“So the drunk guy was their son?” I asked, needing to move on so I didn’t start staring at Penelope’s very full mouth.
“Yes, Michael. I’ve never met him, but he looks so much like his dad.”
“Man, he was not okay. I saw him stumbling around that loft, and for a second, I thought he was coming toward you.”
“I’m glad he wasn’t.”
“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.”
“If they are messing around at school, they’re good at not getting caught.”
“Ugh, I know. It makes me even more curious.”
“Same. We’ll have to watch them a little bit closer.”
She held out her fist. “Done.”
I bumped my fist against hers and we did the explosion thing.
Light rain started to fall as I turned on my truck and pulled out onto the street.
We chatted a little more about the goings-on at the celebration of life on the way back to Penelope’s house.
When I dropped her off, I thought about walking her to her door, but ultimately didn’t.
Seemed kinda weird. And I didn’t know if Sean was home. I didn’t want to make trouble for her.
I waited until she got inside, then hesitated with the truck still running. Rain pattered on the windshield, obscuring my view of her front door. I was strangely reluctant to leave, although I didn’t know why.
With a glance at the painting she’d left on the seat, I backed out of the driveway. I’d see her Monday at school.
And it would have to be enough.