Free A Widow Redefined by Kim Cano Page B

skinny models wearing outfits, shots of them walking down the runway. If I hit the right arrow button, I could see photos of the show for the current season, which I did.
    Each outfit was beautiful. There weren’t any prices listed, but I guess if you have to ask… Heck, what did I know, I shopped at Target. I checked the link on where to buy. Boutiques I’d never heard of popped up, and Neiman Marcus. Yikes! I knew that one, the most expensive department store in the mall.
    I noticed an “about us” button. I clicked on it, and there was a picture of Sabrina. I let out a sigh. She looked better than ever.
    I thought of Justin. Why had he never mentioned her name? Not even once? He often talked about his other clients.
    I read what was written in the “about us” section. Instead of providing juicy details about Sabrina, it was a statement describing the company’s artistic vision. Boring.
    I scanned down to the end of the page. There was one interesting nugget. It said Sabrina was carrying on where her parents, Don and Monique, left off.
    Out of morbid curiosity, I Googled their names. Again, a bunch of links popped up. The one that caught my eye was “Fashion Industry’s Tragic Loss.” The article went on to describe the untimely death of Don and Monique Bergman. While vacationing in Indonesia, their privately rented plane went down after leaving Bali. The wreckage was found between Bali and Java. The cause of the crash was unknown.
    After reading the article, I felt sad. And a little ashamed. I was behaving like a nosy old lady. Disgusted with myself, I logged off the computer and went to bed.
    •••••
    Sunday morning we got up early, ate breakfast and headed to the train station. On the ride there, Tyler talked non-stop about Josephine.
    “Did I tell you she went to a special college for art?” he said.
    My mom and I glanced at each other and smirked. Of course we knew that.
    “No honey,” I replied with interest, “you didn’t.”
    I let him rattle on as we bounced around in our seats. The benches weren’t very comfortable on Metra. And, of course, our train hit every single stop.
    “Did I tell you she went on vacation with her friends for a whole summer to Europe?”
    “Nope.” I figured he was going to tell me, though, and that story would cover the rest of the trip downtown. I sat there nodding and responding in all the right spots as he spilled the details.
    As I listened, I felt bad we’d never taken Tyler on a vacation. I know he heard Justin and I dream out loud about our travel plans, but they never materialized. I hoped travel would be in my son’s future. Justin would like that.
    I heard them call the final stop. Then we gathered our belongings and caught a cab to the Art Institute. Tyler loved the big stone lions out front, so we took some pictures there, before heading inside.
    We wandered aimlessly for a while. Then we found ourselves in the modern art section. Mom liked the paintings, but I didn’t. I know they’re supposed to evoke a feeling instead of be about something, but I didn’t care. I thought they were ugly. All I could think was how could paint be randomly splattered around and end up in a museum?
    “What do you think T?” Mom asked Tyler.
    He gave it some thought. “I like it,” he said. “It makes me feel happy.”
    “See, he gets it,” Mom ribbed me.
    “It must be me,” I said. “I’m not in touch with my emotions.”
    After I spoke the words I realized they were true. I hardly felt anything anymore.
    “Where to next?” I asked, switching the subject.
    “The restrooms,” Mom replied.
    After hitting the bathroom we located the Gauguin section. It was filled with pieces bursting with vivid colors and tranquil scenes. Tyler was in Heaven. He walked around slowly, taking them all in.
    “These are my favorites,” he said.
    “I thought you might say that,” I replied.
    Tyler kept going back to one painting. “I think this is the best one.”
    I