The Sky Beneath My Feet - By Lisa Samson Page 0,77
door by a couple of jumpsuited movers, much to Margaret’s displeasure. As they clear the door, Roy Meakin appears in the threshold.
“Deedee, you can’t be serious,” he says.
“Of course I am.”
“If you have to sell it, then let me buy it. I’d be happy to pay whatever price you name.”
“I’m sure you would, Roy. But I won’t have you gawking at my younger self.”
He turns to me. “Maybe you can stop her. The rest of us can’t seem to get through.”
“I don’t even understand what’s happening.”
“What’s happening,” Deedee says, “is a new period in my work. I’m done with the old. It’s time for the new. And that one especially has to go.”
“Why especially?”
“It’s an affront, that’s why. A painter painting herself, painting her own reflection, obsessed with her mirror image. Look what happened to Narcissus, so obsessed with himself.” She takes me by the shoulders, very intense. “The trick is to see through the glass, not to be distracted by the image it bounces back at you. You see what I mean?”
“Not really, no.”
“This thing goes to the gallery or the trash heap, one or the other.”
She follows the movers out, catching up just as they’re making the descent down the steps to the sidewalk. Despondent, Roy looks on. Margaret hobbles over, touching the wall for support until she reaches his side.
“Do you know which gallery?” Roy asks under his breath.
“I have it written down,” she says, passing him a folded slip of paper.
He inspects the paper, frowning with determination. “I’ll take care of this.”
Margaret directs a stern look in my direction. “You understand Deedee is not to know? This isn’t the first time we’ve had to save her from herself.”
“My lips are sealed.”
Leaving them to their conspiracy, I walk outside to see the canvas loaded into the van. Deedee stands on the sidewalk, arms folded in satisfaction, like she’s just pulled off a remarkable feat.
“They think they’ve outsmarted me,” she says. “But I told Mother it was going to the Annandale, when it’s really heading for Rooney & Gill. It’s not the first time they’ve tried to match wits with me and failed.”
I make a mental note of the name Rooney & Gill so I can pass the information along. The painting’s better off down the street at Roy’s than hanging in some stranger’s living room, surely. My promise to be the best neighbor ever is occasionally put to the test. This time I have a feeling Margaret’s the one to side with.
The van pulls away. Roy ambles our way, a hangdog expression on his face.
“Don’t pout, Roy. A man your age?”
“You don’t always know what’s best. Even for yourself.”
He heads down the sidewalk in the same direction as the van. Holly’s car passes him, pulling up to the curb near the mouth of my driveway.
“It’s that friend of yours,” Deedee says. “The loud one.”
She retreats to the house before Holly can catch up.
“I heard the bad news,” Holly says.
“Let me borrow your phone.”
Intrigued by the request, she hands it over. I punch Roy’s home number in and make the call. His voice mail picks up. “She didn’t send it to the place she told Margaret about. It’s going to something called Rooney & Gill. Good luck!”
“What was that all about?” Holly asks, dropping the phone back into her purse.
“Favor for a friend.”
“I’m glad to hear it. That’s the reason I’m here. To do a favor for a friend.”
“What kind of favor?”
We walk as far as the driveway, pausing next to her car.
“You’ve been holding on to the key to Stacy Manderville’s beach house for something like three weeks. I’ve had enough. We’re going.”
“I can’t leave now.”
“We are going to do this, Beth. Me and you. It’ll be an adventure.”
“Holly, I can’t afford the plane tickets, and I’m not having you pay for everything.”
“Not a problem. You said it yourself. Florida’s just a day away. We’ll have ourselves a road trip, two girlfriends on the open highway. It’ll be like Thelma & Louise. Minus the Brad Pitt, of course. Come on, Beth. You need this. If you stay around here, you’re going to end up going batty.”
“No,” I say.
“That’s settled, then.”
“Holly, no.”
“Remember to pack your bikini.”
“Yeah, right. Now you’re dreaming.”
chapter 14
Thelma & Louise
Remember the scene in It’s a Wonderful Life where George Bailey is looking for a suitcase to take on his travels, one that’s big enough for a thousand and one nights with room for labels from everywhere from Italy to Samarkand? And the guy behind the