Page 112 of Better Luck Next Time

This wasn’t going at all like Lee had suggested it would. Then again, Lee and Georgie had expected Adalia to play the meek, submissive role they’d written for her. They hadn’t expected her to hit the ground running.

“Fair enough,” Adalia said, “but tell me, did you have a good childhood? Has life been good to you?”

“Adalia!” Georgie whisper-shouted.

“That hardly seems relevant,” Henrietta said, clearly offended.

“Where does art come from?” Adalia asked.

“The artist, of course,” Henrietta said.

“Of course,” Adalia conceded, “but we both know it goes much deeper than that. Think of the great artists who have contributed breathtaking work to the world. Vincent van Gogh. Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec. Edvard Munch. Hell, even Caravaggio. They experienced great tragedy and emotional upheaval in their lives. And it showed in their work, because they put theireverythinginto their pieces. Their art was their life. Their reason for living. For breathing. Their names have become synonymous with it.”

“Several of those artists were mentally ill,” Henrietta said in a dry tone. “Are you suggesting you have such an excuse?”

“Now hold on!” Lee exploded, scooting forward in his seat. “That question is out of line.”

“She’s the one who brought it up,” Henrietta said.

“That’s a fair question,” Adalia said, holding up a hand. “And no, to the best of my knowledge, I’m not mentally ill, although I suspect I need a few years’ worth of therapy. But that’s my point. I have a deep emotional well to draw from, so when I put my soul into my work, it carries a piece of me. It’s like little pieces of me are scattered throughout the world. And as long as I know they’re out there, with my name on them, I’m good with that. But then Alan took parts of my soul and tried to claim them as his own. He’d already beaten me down emotionally and stolen my sense of self-worth. I couldn’t let him take my work from me too.”

She took a breath. “Was destroying them the logical thing to do? We all know the answer to that. Should I have tried to set the record straight instead? We all know the answer to that too. But that deep emotional well I mentioned is always there. It’s not a spigot I can turn on and off whenever I create. And when I saw what he’d done…I had to stop him. I had to reclaim myself.”

“By destroying them?” Henrietta asked dryly.

“In my mind, they were already destroyed before I ever threw paint on them. Even if I’d followed the proper channels and managed to do the impossible and prove they were mine—because the photos Lee possesses were taken in Alan’s studio, and we all know it would have come down to his word against mine—I still would have destroyed them.”

Henrietta was stone-faced, but Georgie’s eyes were glassy and Lee’s jaw looked hard enough to crack granite.

The other woman, who had yet to utter a word, swiped at her eyes. “I believe her. I saw her that night. She was clearly upset.”

That’s when Adalia placed her. She’d been at the gallery that night. She was the one who’d called the police.

“She could merely be a woman scorned,” Henrietta said.

“No,” the other woman said softly. “She was reclaiming pieces of herself. Like Horcruxes.”

“Except I didn’t murder anyone,” Adalia said in a light tone, only to be met with looks of horror from her siblings and weak smiles from the two women.

They were all silent for several seconds before Henrietta asked, “Why haven’t you sued Alan Stansworth for stealing your property or tried to file charges?”

“Because I would have had to relive it all over again,” Adalia said. “And frankly, I was not in a good emotional place for months after that.”

“But you’re better now?” Henrietta asked in a softer tone.

Adalia gave her a small smile. “I’m getting there.”

Still, she had to wonder if she’d taken the chicken’s way out by not pursuing a legal route. All she’d wanted to do was hide away and lick her wounds, but now she realized that she’d let him get away with it. Could she find the gumption to go through with the torture a legal case would ultimately bring her? Was it too late? The thought of fighting him should have felt empowering, but the prospect seemed exhausting.

Henrietta shifted in her seat, looking away for a moment, and when she met Adalia’s gaze again, her eyes were friendlier. “I suppose I can understand why you did what you did, although I truly wish you hadn’t destroyed them. The first time I saw them, they took my breath away. I feel like the world is a little bit dimmer without them in it.”

Adalia’s mouth parted in surprise.

“That being said,” Henrietta continued, “I would love to discuss the possibility of showing a new collection.” Then she added with a grimace, “Under your name, of course.”

Adalia blinked. “I’d be open to a discussion.”

“I have an available spot in February,” Henrietta said. “I can hold it for you for a few weeks if you’re not ready to give me a definitive answer.”

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