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The video shifted.
And suddenly, miraculously, a woman who both Julia and Alana knew well appeared on screen.
MARCIA CONRAD - DIRECTOR, WRITER, FEMINIST
“Ms. Conrad,” the journalist began brightly. “You’ve just purchased a destroyed painting for fifty times its original price. Can you tell me a bit about this decision?”
Marcia’s laughter sparkled like champagne. “Well, Audrey, to tell you the truth, I was a guest at Asher Tarkin’s exhibition the night of the, shall we say, ‘incident.’”
“Were you!” The journalist feigned surprise.
“I was,” Marcia continued. “I was in conversation with Asher’s wife when, suddenly, her face shifted. It was a miraculous moment, one that, as a storyteller, I’d like to recapture one day in a film or a novel. That said, I felt I needed to have a representation of this iconic moment.”
“And you think the painting itself represents that?” the journalist asked.
“I do,” Marcia returned. “But beyond that, I recently learned that Asher Tarkin and I have something in common.”
“What’s that?”
Marcia’s smile was secretive. “We both spent time at an artist residency on Nantucket Island. The Copperfield House. My time there changed my life forever. And, given that this very painting was created at The Copperfield House, I imagine that Asher’s life was forever changed from his time there, as well.”
“Are you kidding!” Julia practically screamed at the television.
“Shh…” Alana warned, conscious that their mother wasn’t far away.
The short news segment broke with a commercial. Alana paused the TV, her heart pounding in her throat. She felt like she’d just been hit by a bolt of lightning.
“I don’t know what to say,” Julia whispered.
Alana rewound the news segment and recorded it. Together, Julia and Alana watched a second time with rapt attention, their eyes so wide that they nearly popped from their heads. When the segment finished, Alana stopped the recording and turned off the television. Together, the sisters sat in the soft darkness, heavy with confusion.
“She knows I’m a Copperfield,” Alana whispered. “She even knew it that night at the gallery.”
“She might have figured it out later,” Julia countered. “We don’t know.”
“Still…” Alana continued, her voice catching. “She did this on purpose. She’s rubbing our noses in it.”
Julia nodded. “It’s the only conclusion I keep coming back to, as well.”
Alana jumped from the couch, catching sight of her reflection in the mirror on the far wall. With her avocado mask, she looked like an enraged clown.
“You know what this means, Julia?” she demanded as she paced. “This means war. I don’t know-how. But we have to find Marcia. And we have to make her admit what she did. As far as I’m concerned, she destroyed our family’s entire universe. And now, she’s still hungry to destroy us, just for kicks. I won’t stand for it.”
Julia’s voice was guttural. “I won’t stand for it, either. But I feel so far away from figuring out how to do that.”
Alana staggered to a halt. Julia was right. Marcia, Asher, Quentin, and Jackson had power over them. And all Julia and Alana were, just then, were divorcées with avocado face masks and too many chocolate chip cookies to go around. They needed a better plan.
