Free The Marriage of Sticks by Jonathan Carroll Page B

seventeen?”
    “Ha! A lot of men made love to me before I was seventeen and that was eighty years ago.”
    “Yes, but you’ve led a pretty unique life compared to most people.”
    “So what? Know when I think a person is old enough to make love? When they become interesting.” She held a cane in her hand and knocked it on the floor.
    “I don’t think you should run for president on that platform, Frances. They might burn you at the stake.”
    “I know. I’m too old. My heart doesn’t live here anymore. That’s why memories are good: you wake up every morning and put them on like hand cream. That way, the days can’t dry you out.
    “Listen, Miranda, I have a favor to ask. Do you know the painter Lolly Adcock?”
    Hugh Oakley’s face came instantly to mind. “Funny you ask. Someone was talking about her just the other day.”
    “A miserable woman, but quite a good painter. I have a small watercolor by her I want to sell. Would you be willing to look into the best way for me to do it?”
    I told her about James Stillman and me, about his dealings with the Adcock estate, and what happened to him afterwards.
    “Too bad you two didn’t meet when you were older; you’d probably be happily married with a house full of kids. But that happens: we keep meeting people or having experiences at the wrong time. The greatest love of my life was a man named Shumda, but I didn’t know that till I was ten years smarter. When we were together, I was just a kid auditioning different men for mad love affairs. I was looking for heat, not light.
    “You know how we look back and say, ‘Gee, I was dumb when I was seventeen.’ What if you look at it the other way—seventeen-year-old Miranda looks forward at you now. What would she have to say about what you’ve become?”
    “What would seventeen-year-old me think of me now?” I laughed.
    “Exactly. She’d probably be furious you didn’t marry this James and save him.”
    Hugh had given me his business card at the party. I called and we made an appointment to meet. Frances gave me the Adcock painting to show him. I was surprised she was willing to trust me with something so valuable.
    “You can only steal it. But if you do, then you won’t be able to come back and visit. I’d rather know me than rob me.”
    The day before our meeting, Hugh called to say he had to go to Dublin immediately. We could cancel the meeting, or he could arrange for one of his assistants to see me. I said the assistant would be fine. If necessary, we could meet after he returned. When I put the phone down I was disappointed, but nothing more.
    An hour before the appointment, I had a confrontation with the man I had been dating. He came into the shop all excited about a new video camera he’d just bought.
    Within fifteen minutes he was insulting me. He said I was cold and calculating. I’d squeezed him empty like a tube of toothpaste, then dropped him in the trash. I let him go on until all he had left was splutter.
    “I have an appointment now. I have to go.”
    “That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say?”
    “Haven’t you said it all?” I stood up.
    I don’t know what my face said at that moment. My heart and stomach were calm. More than anything, I was glad it had come to this. Now I wouldn’t have to diplomatically sashay around him anymore. I’d have guessed my expression was nothing but empty. Who knows? Whatever was there, his eyes widened and he slapped me across the face.
    Staggering backward, I banged into a metal filing cabinet. The edge of it stabbed me in the small of the back. Crying out, I fell to my knees. I saw his feet coming toward me. I curled my body inward, sure he was going to beat me.
    He started laughing. “Look at you! That’s where you belong, on your fucking knees. Let me get a picture of this. I want to remember it.”
    I heard a whirring sound and, fearfully looking up, saw the camera up to his eye, pointing at me.
    “This I gotta have. What a