Page 111 of Better Luck Next Time

Georgie quickly veered the topic away from the meeting, and they had an agreeable meal. Maybe Adalia’s siblings were just trying to keep her calm, but she hoped the laid-back vibe had something to do with the phone call Georgie and Lee had last week, which supposedly had nothing to do with Adalia’s legal issues.

Soon it was time to go, and they walked the two blocks to the gallery.

A younger woman who looked slightly familiar met them at the door and led them to the director’s office. On the way, Adalia searched for any lingering evidence of her attack, relieved when she saw no splashes of red paint.

“Adalia,” the older woman said as she got to her feet and walked around her impressively clean desk for such a small space. “I’m Henrietta Higgins, the director of the gallery. Thank you for agreeing to this meeting. We’re very interested to hear your version of events.” While she wore a severe business suit and her hair was pulled back into a bun, she had friendly eyes.

“That’s why we’re all here,” Lee said in his best stick-up-his-butt voice. There was a soft edge to it, though, like he wanted to sound both professional and approachable. Lee could act when he needed to. It was how he managed to spend so much time around their father without pissing him off.

“Please, have a seat.” Henrietta gestured to three chairs that had been crammed into the narrow space in front of her desk.

The siblings all took a seat, with Adalia in the middle, and the woman who’d escorted them sat on a stool on the other side of Henrietta’s desk.

“As I’m sure your brother has told you,” Henrietta continued as she got settled behind the desk, “we’re only interested in learning the truth. We’d already decided not to press charges.”

Because Alan had made up a story about her being a sad-sack psychopath.

Criminal charges weren’t the only danger, Lee had warned her. They could file a civil suit if they thought there was just cause.

“That’s why we insisted on no attorneys being present,” Henrietta continued. “To make this all less antagonizing.”

The other woman remained silent.

“I understand,” Adalia said, clasping her hands in her lap. “I’m eager to tell you my side of the story as well.”

“Good,” Henrietta said, her smile widening. “How about you start with what prompted you to come to the gallery the night you were arrested.”

A bit of fire rose up in Adalia’s chest. “Is that your polite way of asking why I came into your gallery and threw paint on the sculptures?”

Georgie gasped and Lee stiffened.

Sorry, sibs. Addy’s tired of playing the sad sack role.

Henrietta’s smile spread. “That’s another way to put it, yes.”

“Let me give it to you straight, Henrietta,” Adalia continued. “Alan Stansworth is a thief. He instigated a relationship with me after he saw my work at a show about a year ago, taking advantage of his previous position as my instructor to exert authority over me. Then he stole my work by gaslighting me into believing he was putting several of my pieces in storage. I only figured out what he was up to when I showed up at your gallery and saw he’d attached his name tomywork.”

“So you resorted to destroying them?” Henrietta asked, her smile gone. “You expect us to believe that you would destroy over one hundred thousand dollars’ worth of your own work to spite him? Why not just bring the issue to our attention so the situation could be resolved in a more civilized manner?”

That stung, because Henrietta was right. In hindsight, there were a half dozen better ways she could have reacted.

“First of all,” Adalia said, “I had no idea my work was worth anything. Alan had convinced me it was mediocre at best but that I should ‘keep trying.’” She used air quotes for the last two words. “Second, he’d been playing mind games with me for several months, building me up only to tear me down.” She narrowed her eyes. “Like any good abuser would do.”

Surprise filled the director’s eyes.

“Yeah,” Adalia said, her head held high. “At the risk of sounding like a hysterical female, I just accused the great Alan Stansworth of emotionally abusing me.” She steeled her back. “Are you an artist, Henrietta?”

The director gave Adalia a weak smile. “While I love creating art, I don’t have the talent to bereallygood.” She held her hands out. “So I run a gallery. This way I can be surrounded by what I love. Even if I can’t create it.”

Was she suggesting she didn’t believe Adalia had created the pieces because she’d destroyed them?

“Has someone ever claimed something of yours as their own?” Adalia asked. “Something that you poured your heart and soul into?”

Henrietta was quiet for a moment, then said, “No.”

“Suppose you had a piece you were exceptionally proud of and someone else claimed it. How would you react?”

She took a breath. “I’d be upset, of course, but I wouldn’t destroy it. I would rather it continue to exist apart from me than take it from the world.”

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