Chapter Fifteen
Marsha
Marsha stayed at the inn for two more days, enjoying her walks on the beach and thinking deeply about her life. Her head was clearer, and she felt lighter than she had when she’d arrived. She knew it would take time to fix the mess Craig had left her, and she was finally ready to do the hard work of moving on with her life.
It was time to go home.
The morning she left, she thanked Joanna and Melinda for being such wonderful hosts. “I’m sure this won’t be the last time I come here,” she told them. “And please send me a notice when you get married, Melinda. I’d love to send you a gift.”
Melinda promised she would and Marsha left the inn in a much happier frame of mind.
She’d already said her goodbyes to Andrew Trelow, who’d left early in the morning the day before. And she thanked the older man for sharing his story. “You’ve given me something to think about,” she told him as she hugged him. “I think it was fate that we met.”
“Or maybe Irene had something to do with it,” Andrew said, winking.
Marsha laughed but didn’t discount what he’d said. God worked in mysterious ways, and who was she to question it.
As she pulled out of the parking lot onto the highway, she called Kristi. “I’m coming home,” she told her friend. “I’ll be at the gallery tomorrow morning, and we can start working on making the gallery profitable.”
“That’s great,” Kristi said. “Are you feeling better?”
“Yes,” Marsha said with a long, relieved sigh. “Much better. I think I’m ready to make some big decisions about my life. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Three hours later, she pulled into the driveway of her Palos Verdes home and sighed. It was nice to be home, even with all the memories attached to it. Taking her suitcase from the trunk, she walked inside, set her suitcase down, and walked directly to the large picture window. That view! Even though she’d spent time near the ocean these past few days, it still wasn’t like her view here. This view was familiar. It belonged to her.
The next day, Marsha walked into the gallery, and before putting her things in the back room, she hugged Kristi tightly. “I’m sorry I worried you this past week. So much has happened, and I had to clear my head. I feel so much better now.”
“I’m glad you’re doing better,” Kristi said, hugging her friend back.
They got right down to work, discussing ways to make the most out of the gallery. Both women loved owning it and wanted to make it profitable.
“The first thing we have to do is change the percentage we charge for housing the artists’ work,” Marsha said. “I know it will be hard since we’ve become friends with our artists, but it’s necessary. We’ve been working with them on a 50/50 basis. But we need to change that to 60/40.”
Kristi’s eyes grew wide. “I know a few who won’t like that.”
“I know,” Marsha said, nodding in agreement. “But all the other local gift shops and galleries charge that much, and most of them demand exclusivity. We don’t ask the artists to be exclusive with us. And if they feel forty percent is too low, they can always raise the price to earn it back.”
“I’m not looking forward to those phone calls,” Kristi said.
“It will be hard, but let’s put it this way. Either we get a higher percentage, or we close our doors. That’s the honest truth.”
They also talked about adding some movable wall panels to create more space to hang paintings. The more items they had for sale, hopefully, the more they’d sell.
After they’d decided on a plan to change the gallery, Marsha made a few personal phone calls. She called her accountant and asked if he’d talked to the Torrance insurance office about the employees purchasing it. He said he had and told her the price they were willing to pay.
“It’s a good offer,” Tom said. “And since I know how much that office earns, I think it’s a good buyout. But, of course, it’s up to you.”
“Sell it,” Marsha said. “Send the information to my lawyer, and he can draw up the paperwork.”
“I’ll get right on that,” Tom said. “How are you doing?”
“I’m fine,” Marsha told him. “I took a few days off to clear my head, and now I’m ready to take care of things.”
“Great. I’ll call Richard and let him know you’re selling the office.” Tom hesitated. “Just so you know, the monthly mortgage payment for the Malibu house comes due at the end of the month. I’ve always paid it for Craig. Should I continue?”
Marsha sighed. More money she had to spend that she couldn’t afford. “Yes. Go ahead. We’re putting it up for sale next month. Could you send me a total of what’s left on the mortgage? Then I’ll know what profit I’ll make off it.”
“Certainly,” Tom said. “I’m sure you’ll make a nice profit off that house.”
That evening, as Marsha sat in her dining room, eating a frozen dinner, she wondered if this would be her life from now on. Once all her finances were taken care of and the Malibu house was out of her hair, what else was ahead for her? Would she spend the next thirty or forty years alone, rambling around in this house? She loved her house on the cliff and the large yard. But it was just her now. And the taxes were high, as well as the insurance. Could she even afford to keep it for the rest of her life?
She knew that Craig hadn’t left anything for Amanda and Max. She’d asked the accountant specifically about where the money from the sale of the businesses had gone, and he’d assured her all the money had gone toward everyday living expenses. Clothes, jewelry, cruises, vacations, and nice cars. And, of course, the upkeep of this house. Did she really want to spend the rest of her years on this planet buying things and taking care of this home?
It surprised her that she was even thinking this way.
As she crawled into bed that night, she couldn’t stop thinking about Craig’s mistress and son. He’d left them nothing to live on in the event of his death. Nothing. The house wasn’t in Amanda’s name, and he hadn’t given her big chunks of money. When Amanda leaves the Malibu house, she’ll have nothing except her job and her son. A week ago, Marsha would have thought the woman deserved to be left with nothing. Now, that thought didn’t sit well with her.
The next day, she called Craig’s brother, Jeffrey.
“Marsha!” he said, sounding happy to hear from her. “What can I do for you.”
“First of all,” Marsha said. “I’m sorry I got angry with you about knowing about the Malibu house and, well, you know. It wasn’t your fault. I had no one else to express my frustration to since I couldn’t yell at Craig.”
“Honestly, I didn’t blame you for being angry. Craig put me in a tough position, but I didn’t want to be the one to tell you about the situation. I’m so sorry,” Jeffery said.
“It was Craig’s mess, not yours,” Marsha said. “And I’m the one left to clean it up. But enough of that. I have a favor to ask of you.”
“Anything,” he said.
“Will you keep your eye out for a place I could buy, maybe in my neighborhood or nearby, where I have less house and less land to deal with but also still have a view?”
“You want to move?” Jeffrey sounded shocked.
“Only if it’s the right place. I can’t see myself staying in that expensive house for however many years I have left on this earth,” Marsha said. “I think it’s time for a change.”
“I’m happy to look for a place for you,” Jeffrey said. “But you know, they say you shouldn’t make any big changes for at least a year after losing a spouse.”
Marsha laughed. “After everything I’ve been through since Craig died, looking for a new place is the least of my problems. I think I’m making a smart decision.”
“Okay. I’ll be on the lookout,” Jeffrey said. “I’m glad to hear you’re doing better. Kristi tells me there will be a few changes at the gallery as well.”
“Yes. But they are all for the better,” Marsha said. “And if I’d known it wasn’t profitable these past five years, I would have implemented changes a long time ago. I know Craig thought he was protecting me from bad news, but it’s always better to just tell the truth.”
“I agree,” Jeffrey said.
“Also, there’s one more thing I need you to do,” Marsha said. She explained her idea to him, and again, his voice sounded stunned.
“Are you sure?” Jeffrey asked.
“Yes,” Marsha said. “It has to be done.”
Marsha smiled as she hung up. For the first time since learning about all the lies that Craig had told her, she actually felt better. Relieved, even. She knew what she was about to do was the right thing.
The next week was a busy blur for Marsha. She called a company that sold gallery walls and purchased three movable walls that they delivered right away. She and Kristi put them together themselves because they didn’t want to pay extra for someone else to do it. They had also made the calls to their artists to tell them the new percentage. They made an exception for the items already in the store for sale, but any new items would go under the new percentage. Some balked, and one person came in and took their photos off the wall. But most of them agreed it was fair. Other galleries were charging that same percentage, so it didn’t surprise them.
“And I want you to stay in business,” Marco told Marsha when she talked to him. “You sell more of my sculptures than any other gallery. If I left you, I’d be a starving artist.”
Marsha appreciated that he felt that way. She wanted to be fair, but she needed to make a profit, too.
At Marsha’s request, their artists brought more paintings, photos, and sculptures into the shop to sell. When they saw the idea of adding more walls for hanging space, they all complimented Kristi and Marsha on it. “We’ll sell more, and you’ll make more money,” one artist said. “It’s a win-win situation.”
Marsha hoped that would be true.
Marsha also spent time with Jeffrey to see several homes and condos for sale. She hadn’t found the perfect place yet, but she knew she would. It was just a matter of time.
By the end of the week, Marsha was exhausted. She spent the weekend at home, going through clothing and personal items, deciding what to keep and what to give away or sell. They had ten years worth of items sitting in the house and she didn’t need to bring it all to wherever she decided to move.
When she’d packed up Craig’s suits, shirts, and other clothing a couple of weeks ago, she’d been angry. Now, she was more sentimental about what she kept and what she was giving away. She knew he hadn’t planned to die so soon, and she thought he might have fixed their financial situation by the time they retired. But she also knew he never planned on telling her about his other life. About his son. And that hurt.
But Andrew Trelow was right. As she packed away memories, she realized there were so many happy ones to cherish. And she wanted to remember those good times despite all that happened since. Because no one could take away their twenty years of happiness, even if it wasn’t built on complete honesty. Hopefully, as time went on, she’d forget his betrayal and only remember the good times. She could only hope.