What They Call Sin

by Philippa Grey-Gerou

She stood in the doorway, astonished.

  The studio had been transformed. The ratio of art space to living space had shifted, and it now looked like a residence instead of a warehouse. The drywall on the dividing wall had been painted in blocks of bold color and softened with sponges of gold. One long wire had been run the length of the window wall, and panels of white nubbly scrim hung over each window.

  Cara was on top of a ladder up in the loft, nailing more scrim to hang from the ceiling from strips of white molding. The fabric hung down on either side of the wood, creating translucent “walls” for Lindy's new bedroom.

  Timothy was on the bottom level, bolting together a small dining room table to set up in the new dining area. The kitchenette had been reconfigured to a square layout instead of a galley, the square continuing on in an invisible line out into the room to where the dining area was now marked out by a large sisal rug edged in blue, an enormous wrought-iron candelabra suspended from the ceiling above it.

  The bulk of the area under the loft had been turned into a living room. The leather chairs and sofa as well as the oriental rugs had been moved under there and some soft lighting added to give it a cozy, old world feel. An armoire in the corner stood open, revealing a computer, printer and fax machine set up.

  "How...” She was stunned. “How did you do all this?"

  Timothy rose and came over to her. “Never trust an architect and a designer with plans to your place and a key. We've been at it since about six thirty, picking everything up and getting things together until Jade got here with the key."

  "Yes, we should be on one of those home improvement shows,” Cara added, climbing gingerly down the ladder. “We didn't even need two days!"

  "To be fair, we did have about ten guys helping us until noon. And the cable and phone guys were here, so your land line is in, as is the cable and DSL which Jade insisted we have installed.” He put his arm around Cara. “So, what do you think?"

  Lindy felt tears welling up in her eyes. “It's wonderful. I never imagined...” She couldn't speak further.

  "We gave you as much storage as we could,” Cara went on eagerly. “There's an armoire in the bedroom, and the kitchen cabinets are backed with shelves. And look!” She moved to one of the existing storage units. “We mounted some of your paintings as doors to hide the clutter!"

  Lindy noticed for the first time rows of her paintings affixed to the cabinet fronts.

  And just above and to the left was the half finished portrait of Rogue.

  Her breath stopped as her eyes met his cobalt blue ones, smiling down at her with a gentle smirk. It was the oil version of the diptych she had created of the two of them. She hadn't come up with a way to do it over, so had simply left it, burying it under a stack of old works to be forgotten. It was only half finished, but she hadn't been able to resist doing the details of his elegant face. Before he hurt her. Before she didn't care about him.

  And they had made him a part of her home.

  "Lindy?” Jade's voice came to her, concerned. “Is everything okay?"

  Cara picked up the concern. “We can take them down if you'd rather. The hinges are on short screws, so the canvasses aren't permanently damaged..."

  "No!” Lindy interrupted, turning her back on those compelling eyes. “It's perfect, really. It's just so much. I can't thank you guys for this.” She hugged them each in turn, tears in her eyes.

  "So, is this where the party is?"

  They all turned to see Kathleen Fallon standing in the doorway, a bouquet and a bottle of wine in tow.

  "Kath!” Lindy wiped her eyes, careful of her mascara. “How did you find me?"

  "A little bird's secretary told me.” She glanced at Cara, who rolled her eyes. “I'd talk to that girl about client confidentiality."

  "I haven't been trying to avoid you,” Lindy started awkwardly. “It's just..."

  "Yes, you have. But I understand why."

  "Um, guys?” Dan interrupted. “Let's get the rest of the stuff out of the van, let these two talk."

  They trailed out, Jade hesitantly turning back, protective of Lindy.

  "I'm sorry about Gabriel,” Kathleen said without preamble.

  "You knew all along, didn't you?” She took the flowers and crossed to the kitchen with them.

  Kathleen followed. “I had some pretty reliable information.” She set the wine bottle down on the counter, not looking up. “And I'm sorry about Michael, too."

  "Rogue.” She didn't take her eyes off the vase filling with water. “His name is Rogue. And you were right. I let my heart get involved and it was all pain and misery. He was just using me."

  "I don't know, honey. He sounded pretty distraught when he called me."

  Lindy looked up in surprise. “He called you?"

  She nodded. “Looking for you. He said he needed to explain something to you. I pretty much knew what that meant, so I hung up on him."

  "He was upset?” Lindy focused on the flowers she was arranging.

  Kath looked at her sharply. “Do you care?"

  "No! Yes. I don't know.” She sighed and gave up on the flowers, leaning back against the sink. “I don't want to. He destroyed me. So why does his betrayal hurt more than Gabriel's?"

  "Maybe because it was more of a surprise."

  Lindy opened her mouth to argue when the others came back, their arms full of boxes and garment bags.

  "But I've missed all the hard work!” Kath turned back on her performance face. “Lucky me! So I guess that leaves the celebratory dinner to me. We'll have a lovely meal with lots of wine to christen Lindy's new home and new life. My treat!"

  There was agreement all around, but as they finished the last touches and emptied the boxes, she felt Kathleen's watchful eyes following her.

  And Lindy knew she hadn't missed the painting.

  Chapter 42

  Grocery shopping for herself was a novel experience. Lindy had lived in the dorms all through college and then with Gabriel immediately after that, so never before had she had total freedom of choice over what she ate. But for the last two weeks all those decisions had been hers alone to make. So for a change, her basket was filled with more fresh produce, with fish instead of red meat and with less dairy than usual. She got the orange-papaya juice she liked, and the super sugary kid's cereal, and as a special treat, the brand of chocolate chip cookies she liked. It was silly, such a small thing, but it made her feel incredibly liberated.

  She chatted with the cashier as the girl rang up her order, then ran her card through the payment machine.

  A moment later, the girl looked at Lindy apologetically. “Could you run your card again, please?"

  "Sure.” Lindy dug the card out of her wallet and scanned it again.

  The girl watched her screen, then shook her head. “I'm sorry, ma'am, but your card's been declined."

  Lindy felt embarrassment suffusing her face. “I'm so sorry. I can't imagine what's wrong. Try this one.” And she ran another card through the reader.

  Again the girl shook her head.

  Her face hurt and her eyes watered in mortification as she opened her wallet again. Fortunately, she'd been to the bank machine the night before and had sixty dollars in her wallet. She pulled out two twenties and paid the girl. “I'm sorry for the trouble."

  "Don't worry about it,” the girl consoled her, handing back her change. “We see that a lot. Sometimes it's just our machines, but you should call your bank."

  "I will. Thanks.” And she scooped up the two bags of groceries for the walk home.

  She put the food away before making the call.

  "Yes, I'd like to check on the status of my bank account?"

  "Of course,” the faceless, officious voice said pleasantly. “Account number, please?"

  Lindy read the numbers out of her checkbook.

  "Yes, ma'am. Here it is. That account was closed as of this morning."

  "Closed?"

  "Yes, ma'am."

  "But that's not possibl
e. It's a joint account. I'd have to agree for it to be closed."

  "No, ma'am. You're Miss James, I presume?” When Lindy agreed, she went on. “The account was Mr. Stevens'. You were just a signatory on it."

  "Meaning?"

  "Meaning you had access to the account, but the money belonged to him, and he could do what he wanted with it. Including closing the account."

  Lindy felt panic begin to overwhelm her. “Thank you for your time."

  She called American Express, Diner's Club and MasterCard, all with the same results. The accounts were in Gabriel's name and they had all been closed.

  Finally she called Gabriel.

  "Good afternoon, McDaniels Polk and Marks. Gabriel Stevens’ office,” Caroline's breathy voice came over the line.

  "Caroline, this is Lindy. I'd like to speak to Gabriel."

  "Just one moment,” the other woman fairly smirked into the phone, “let me see if he's available."

  There was no music on hold. Lindy waited impatiently for long minutes before the phone reconnected. “Hey, Lindy,” Gabriel said, his voice cool and professional. “What can I do for you?"

  "You can tell me why you closed all our bank accounts,” she replied, trying to keep the panic out of her voice.

  "My bank accounts, you mean.” He corrected her like he would an errant child.

  "That money is as much mine as it is yours!"

  "Oh yeah? When was the last time you put anything in there, Lindy, huh? Have you ever contributed financially to this marriage?"

  She was dumbfounded.

  "I have to look out for my interests, Lindy. I've seen the bills. You've bought new clothes, redecorated the studio and who knows what else. I think I've been more than generous, but I'm not going to carry you anymore."

  "So what am I supposed to do?"

  "What everyone does. Get a job. Or come back home. Act like a proper wife and you get the benefits, Lindy.” His voice sunk, cloying and persuasive. “Righteous indignation won't feed you, Lindy. You've got no skills, no work experience. No one will hire you to so much as sweep their floors. Come home. Let me take care of you. It will be better that way. A nice house, nice clothes, fancy parties and fancy friends. It can all be yours again if you just. Come. Home."

  She couldn't breathe, couldn't think. She felt cage walls slamming into place all around her, and all she could think of was escape.

  "Think about it, Lindy. But don't think too long. This offer's not going to be available forever.” And he hung up.

  She sank down into a chair, dropping the phone heedlessly on the dining table. He was right. She had nothing to offer, no way to support herself. She'd never held a regular job outside of the short term internships she'd held during school, and those were all for nonprofit organizations that basically got paid to hire her.

  All she knew was her art. She could sell her paintings, but she couldn't support herself on that. She wasn't known and didn't have any benefactors. There wasn't any way for her to make a living that route.

  She could go dance for Eve. If Eve would let her back in. But stripping for a living? The first time she had done it had been a thrill, and after that it had been a search. But to do it every night, for no other satisfaction than a couple hundred dollars? She didn't think her spirit could support that for long.

  Maybe it was time to give up, move back to California. She loved it here in New York, but if she went home, she could make a new start, away from all the painful memories. Work with her mom at the gallery...

  The gallery.

  Her eyes flashed up to the portrait of Rogue on the wall. Could it work? It was a long shot. But she wanted to stay.

  She almost ran to the computer cabinet and threw open the doors. If this was going to work, she had to be prepared.

  * * * *

  The gallery was busy for a Tuesday. The local lunch crowd seemed to be avoiding the late February chill by browsing the exhibits. Lindy fidgeted nervously, hoping Diana wouldn't be too busy to talk to her.

  She should have known better. As soon as she saw her, Diana's face broke into a soft smile and she immediately crossed the room to greet her. “Lindy! It's so good to see you! I hadn't expected to again. But you look wonderful. How are you?"

  "I've had a lot of changes in my life recently,” Lindy confessed. “Which is actually why I've come. Can we talk somewhere?"

  "Of course. Come back to the office.” She gestured for Lindy to lead, following her in after hitching the drape back so she could keep an eye on the gallery. Lindy sat, and Diana wheeled the desk chair around to sit next to her. “What can I do for you?"

  Lindy took a deep breath. “Actually, I'm hoping it's a matter of what can I do for you. I've been thinking about what you said the first day we met, about needing someone to replace Sarah and wanting to do some teaching?"

  Diana nodded. “I do. Did you have someone in mind?"

  "Yes. Me.” She handed over the resume she had worked on until late last night, using the templates she had found as part of her word processing package. “I know my work record doesn't look like much,” she continued nervously as Diana looked over the single page, “but I couldn't put on there all the time I spent helping my mother with her gallery. I've already got my art degree, including some arts ed classes. I've done installations and advertising and fundraising, although you won't need that since you're not a nonprofit..."

  Diana laughed softly. “It's okay, Lindy. You don't have to sell me. Frankly, you are goddess-sent. It's Sarah's last semester, and she's been needing to spend a lot more time at school. I've managed as best I can, but it's gotten too big for just one person. Have you done any grant writing?"

  "I've helped, but I haven't done one from scratch before."

  "I can't pay you much. How does fifteen dollars an hour sound, with more if you can bring in some grants for the classroom art project? And we can renegotiate once Sarah leaves for Italy."

  Lindy was stunned for a moment at how fast things were moving. “So, I've got the job?"

  Diana laughed musically. “Yes, you have the job."

  Lindy collapsed in relief, her own smile blossoming. “Oh, thank goodness! I can't tell you how much I need this!"

  "I'm just glad I could help you.” Diana took Lindy's hands gently. “I can't tell you how sorry I am about how things ended with Rogue..."

  "Don't.” Lindy stopped her. “It's the only thing I ask. Don't talk to me about him. I've ... I've finally put that behind me. I can't move on if..."

  "I understand. I'm sorry.” She gripped Lindy's hand comfortingly. “Not another word."

  "Okay.” Lindy took a deep breath. “So, when do you want me to start?"

  "How about tomorrow? Sarah will be in then, so she can show you what she does. We can go on from there. Sound good?"

  Lindy smiled. “Sounds perfect."

  * * * *

  Lindy settled into life as a working woman so easily it was as if she was made for it.

  Sarah was grateful to have her. “I was feeling so guilty for making Diana have to start from scratch with someone, but you already know everything. So this is perfect!"

  Lindy couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm.

  She spent the first few weeks familiarizing herself with the gallery routines and standard operations. She got to meet some of the artists Diana hosted, as well as a number of the other gallery owners in the area. It was a different experience for her to be interacting with people for whom art was a way of life and not something they supported but never saw.

  Diana stayed true to her promise and never mentioned Rogue around her. Sarah was not so reticent.

  The end of the second week they were unpacking furniture together, handmade chairs and small tables and the like retaining the natural shape of the pieces of wood they were made from but taking on a Zen, Asian influence. Diana had found the artist upstate and convinced him to let her show some of his work. They carefully lifted out one long narrow table when Sarah spoke up. “I was re
ally sorry when I heard you and Rogue broke up."

  Lindy didn't look up. “Sarah, please."

  "I know, I know. Diana said not to talk about it.” They carefully set the table down on the floor. “It just seems so sad. You two were both so happy that day you were here."

  "It's just very complicated.” Lindy continued working quietly. “You thought he was happy?"

  "Oh, way.” Sarah started methodically popping a sheet of bubble wrap. “He'd been kind of ... reserved after his divorce. Withdrawn, you know? When he was here with you? That was the old Rogue. Only better."

  "Do you think you can finish this?” Lindy pulled away abruptly. She didn't want to hear this. Didn't want to care.

  Sarah looked at the two remaining boxes and nodded.

  "Okay, I'll just go finish up the paperwork on it.” And she escaped, as much from the girl's idealism as her presence.

  She celebrated her first paycheck by inviting all her friends out for a drink. Diana and Mercedes and Sarah were there, as was Jade and Dan and Cara and Timothy. Even Kathleen made an appearance. Lindy was pleased to see Kath and Diana hit it off, and unsurprisingly Dan and Mercedes did as well. Timothy, Sarah and Cara found something engrossing to talk about, leaving Lindy in Jade's company.

  "To a successful first month,” Jade toasted her quietly, wanting to keep the moment private.

  Lindy took a sip in acknowledgement. “Didn't know if I could do this."

  "You're stronger than you give yourself credit for, Lindy. You've gotten off to a great start."

  She took a deep breath. “Every day and in every way."

  "Better and better. And look,” she indicated the people gathered around them. “You have old friends who love you and new friends who support you. You're not alone anymore."

  "I wasn't alone before."

  Jade looked at her sternly. “Yes, you were, Lindy. You just didn't know it."

  Her new life suited her. It was quiet and comforting, and it inspired her own art. She moved on from her introspective paintings and started finding sources out in the world. She would often go walking, or just sit in the park, watching people, how they moved, what it said to her. She'd document them with her camera and now a video camera as well, then take the images back home to create reflections of what she saw in her mind's eye.