BETHANY UNLOCKED THE door and opened it, reaching around to turn the light on.
“I’ll leave you to it,” she said, “I have someone coming to look at American Carnage.”
I looked at her with surprise. Smiling, she said, “Told ya someone would buy it.”
She left me standing in the doorway, looking at Joan’s things in the storage room. I’d take her canvases and sketch books, I decided right away. Her sketchbooks were stacked on the shelf, but I looked around and couldn’t find her canvases. I made a mental note to ask Bethany about those; I thought she must have moved them for safe keeping. I went to the boxes on the shelves. I lifted the lids and peaked inside. Mostly art supplies—paints, brushes, pencils. If they were still any good, I’d tell Bethany she could keep them, maybe donate them t
