Page 80 of Proof

“What now?”

“The death thing.”

“You are going to have to stop this.” Gail was trying not to lose her patience.

“Sorry. You’re right. Why am I so obsessed with this Brendan thing?”

“Because it was a shock. Our minds do strange things when we are shocked. You oughta know.”

“Yep.” She linked her arm through Gail’s. “Let’s check back with, with—what was that artist’s name?”

Gail gave her a blank look. “Ha. Neither of us bothered to ask. Some team we make!”

“Well, we know where he is,” Luna said brightly, as they made their way back to Celebrations Navidad.

The older man was still behind the counter at the store. He looked up and nodded. No smile. No facial expression. Luna couldn’t help but wonder again why a man who made such fun pieces of art would be so sullen. No one at Stillwell was like that. Sure, there were some with idiosyncrasies, like Johnny Can-Do, who didn’t want to be seen in public. But he had a good reason. His face was scarred. And then there was Jennine, who, well, idiosyncratic was not necessarily an apt description. Man-crazy was more to the point. Luna supposed man-crazy could be considered a unique characteristic. But then, it was really a matter of perspective. To each his own.

The women silently and gingerly approached the counter as if they were entering a church chancel. Perhaps they were. It was this particular man’s sanctuary.

According to science, everything has its own unique energy. An electromagnetic field of neurons, protons, electrons, and quarks interacting at various levels and vibrating in a manner that cannot be discerned by the naked eye. In Sedona, those vibrations were amplified. You could feel so much of the energy. It was almost palpable.

Luna was the first to speak. “Hi again.”

He nodded and handed her a sheet of paper. She looked it over. It listed all the items he would provide, the prices, and delivery date. “May I put it on a credit card?” she asked.

He slid the electronic box toward her. She swiped the card and paid the 600 dollars for the ornaments, plus 42 dollars for shipping and handling. “Do you have something in particular you’d like included on the placard?” she asked.

He handed her a postcard with the name of the shop, address, and a brief description.

“Thank you.” She searched the bottom of her tote and found a paperclip that she used to attach the card to the invoice. She didn’t know what else to say and so held out her hand. “It was nice meeting you.” She wanted to say his name, but she still didn’t know it.

He shook her hand. “Elan.”

Gail stifled a laugh. “Elan” meant friendly.

“Nice to meet you, Elan,” said Luna.

“Thank you, Luna Bodman. Peace.” He turned and retreated to the other room.

This time they scurried out. Luna could tell Gail was holding something in. “What?”

“His name means friendly.”

“Oh stop,” Luna said. “Wait here a minute.” She turned and went back into the store.

“Elan?”

He came out. “Hello, Luna. What can I do for you?” This time, he was smiling.

“You can tell me why you were so dour earlier. I mean, not that it’s any of my business, but you make so many pretty things.”

“Many people come here to steal my ideas. I know a cactus is not original, but my cactuses are mine, and you came from another art center.”

“I totally understand. I am so sorry you got that impression from me. Us.”

“No. I was tired. My grandson kept us up all night. While you were gone, I looked further into Stillwell Center. It is an honor you are considering my work to be on display.”

“Whew. Well, it will be an honor to have your pieces on exhibit. I promise to send you photos.”

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