Page 77 of Proof

A sense of peace flowed through her. So much had transpired over the past few weeks. This was her opportunity to hit the reset button. She closed her eyes and felt the sun wash over her face. It felt good. Warm. Safe. It was as if the canyon whispered, “Welcome home, daughter.” She wondered—could she live here? Not without Chris. Not without her family. For now, she was tied to North Carolina, but she promised herself she would make more frequent journeys to this magical land.

She turned when she heard footsteps approaching. Gail had a mug of coffee in her hand. “This is delicious. I guess having a café is a plus when it comes to making the perfect cup of joe.”

“I put a dash of allspice in the grounds.” Luna winked.

Gail took a big whiff. “Ah, that’s what it is. It’s subtle.”

“Yeah. Just like me.” Luna laughed. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“Not at all. I’m usually up around six, but the aroma of the coffee beckoned me.”

They clinked mugs. “Here’s to a fabulous day!”

Gail went back into the kitchen, put the morning pastries on a tray, and brought them back outside. “I made an appointment at the spa for tomorrow afternoon. I figured we’d do Bell Rock, then more art shopping, and then have a leisurely remainder of the day.”

“Sounds divine!” Luna sipped her coffee and tore off half of a muffin.

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Gail spoke. “Thanks for turning me on to Bad Sisters. Brilliant! I can’t wait to binge the rest of it.”

“I find I’m watching more international shows lately. They’re more authentic. Ellie, Chi-Chi, and I were discussing this the other day. I just wish I could figure out how to cut the cable cord and just go to streaming, but the idea makes me a little nervous.”

“What do you mean?” Gail asked.

“FOMO.”

“Fear of missing out? But why?”

“Old habits. I turn on the TV for local news and weather. I haven’t figured out how or if I can do that if I cut the cord.”

“Hmm. I get it. Robert rigged something up for us so we can get the local news and major networks, but we don’t have the other nine hundred stations nobody watches. Well, I guess some people do, but I don’t have kids, and I don’t care about every sport known to man or woman. And my Spanish isn’t good enough to sit through a telenovela.”

“Exactly! Maybe Robert can explain how I can do that at home.”

“I am sure he can help. It’s good to have a techno wizard in the house.” Gail chuckled. “Although there are times when he’s in the studio twenty-four-seven, and I don’t see him for days.” She raised her eyebrows. “Sometimes that’s not such a bad thing, either.” She chuckled. “Don’t get me wrong. I love Robert to pieces, but too much togetherness can get on your nerves.”

Luna smiled. “I don’t have that problem with Chris.” She sighed. “I love my freedom, but it would be nice to see him more than every other week. And now, with the new job, and the custody battle, who knows how often I am going to see him? I work most weekends.”

“Honeybunch, I am sure the two of you will figure it out.”

Luna nodded. “I have a feeling we will.” Then her mind went back to what she had discovered earlier. She got up. “Be right back.” She returned with her laptop and showed Gail the small notice identifying the victims of the boating accident.

“Oh, honey. I’m so sorry.” Gail wrapped her arms around Luna. “At least you know now.”

“Yeah. It still doesn’t make me feel any better.” She sighed.

“I know, sweetcakes. I know.” Gail stood. “Come on, let’s shower and get ready for our artsy adventure.”

Luna smiled. “Good idea.”

Later that morning, they began their mission in search of authentic holiday ornaments, starting with Celebrations Navidad. Gail introduced Luna to the shopkeeper, and Luna explained where she was from and handed him a brochure for the Stillwell Art Center.

“Yes. I am familiar with it.” He spoke in a soft voice. It was hard to tell the man’s age. His skin told of many long hours spent in the sun. His hair was a mix of black, gray, and white and pulled back in a braid that went down his back, past his shoulder blades. Luna tilted her head toward his back. “I used to have one of those until a couple of weeks ago. How long have you had it?”

“Many years.” His eyes also told of many years of experience. Some good. Some bad. The man was not much for conversation. He was a listener. Luna could tell from her years of social work. There were talkers, and there were listeners. Although being a listener wasn’t always equivalent to being understanding or comprehending.

Luna carried on. “Would you be interested in having some of your ornaments on display at Stillwell? Ellie is showcasing authentic indigenous art. Her intention is to bring more awareness and discoverability to this vast array of talent.” She swept her arm, indicating the items hanging in his shop. He said nothing. Yet. “Each artist’s work will be hung in the atrium. You can see the photo in the middle spread.” She waited for him to open the brochure and say something. Still, nothing.

The man looked at her as if to say, “Continue,” so she did. “There will be a placard in front of the displays, and people can have the opportunity to buy them.”

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