Previous chapters of the River Road story:
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

How should the story continue? Voting is open on the current chapter!

Last time, after an uncomfortable conversation with Margaret Pipkin, the DeLorcas and their young friends were interrupted by an frantic Mia Duomo who came running toward them. Mia was clearly upset by something and explained that she had seen a painting upstairs in the museum that had frightened her. She insisted that the DeLorcas go with her. Mr. and Mrs. DeLorca thought that it would be best if the kids stayed down at the wedding reception with Eben. Mr. and Mrs. DeLorca followed Mia upstairs and saw what had upset her so terribly. The painting Mia had seen was terrifying and seemed to be a picture of Sam and Jenny Colbert as a bride and groom surrounded by horrifying faces. Mrs. DeLorca noticed that whomever had brought the painting in had also stepped in paint. Mia noted that the footprints had been made by expensive women’s shoes by a particular designer. What happened next? Here’s what you decided.

Chapter 5: A Full Plate
by Joseph Crisalli

Framed in ornate gold, the painting was as tall as Mrs. DeLorca. The painting showed two people dressed as a bride and a groom. The couple in the painting had the faces of older people, but it was clearly meant to be Sam and Jenny Colbert—as they would look if they were ninety years old. The bride’s dress and jewelry matched what Jenny was wearing and the groom wore a policeman’s uniform. Behind the couple hundreds of faces had been painting—crying faces, screaming faces, faces in pain and in sorrow. Eveything about it was distorted and ugly—sad and mean.

It was a terrible, upsetting thing.

“I say,” Mr. DeLorca shook his head. “Who would do such a thing?”

“And why?” Mia asked.

“Joan, dear.” Mr. DeLorca looked at his wife. “You’re so silent and such.”

“I’m thinking.” Mrs. DeLorca said. She looked at the floor in front of the spot where the painting had been left to lean against the wall. “Who ever left this here also left behind some footprints. They seemed to have stepped in paint and tracked it on the floor.”

“And they were wearing shoes designed by Helga Warren.” Mia added.

“How can you tell?” Mrs. DeLorca asked.

“Any model worth her salt can tell a shoe by Helga Warren just by the footprint.” Mia laughed. “The woman—or women—who did this may have bad taste in art, but they have excellent taste in shoes.”

“Jolly strange,” Mr. DeLorca shook his head. “What do you suggest we do?”

“We should follow the footprints.” Mrs. DeLorca said.

Mia looked closely at the footprints. “These shoes are new. This is a design that was just released to the public a few months ago.”

“I say, you can tell that just by the footprint?” Mr. DeLorca asked.

“Of course.” Mia answered brightly. “There’s nothing I don’t know about shoes. But, what I don’t understand is where this paint came from. It’s not paint from the painting. The painting is dry. This looks like house paint.”

“It’s from here in the museum.” Mrs. DeLorca explained. “I am having the upstairs west gallery repainted for the new exhibit that is being installed this week. The walls had been blue when the Victorian Painting Exhibit was in there. However, since this new exhibit is of modern art, I thought that clean white walls would look best with the paintings.”

“Who is the artist?” Mia asked.

“Vivian Crane.” Mrs. DeLorca said.

“I’ve never heard of her.” Mia raised her eyebrows.

“She’s not well known. In fact, this is only her second exhibit. One of my initiatives at the museum this year is to showcase the work of talented, new artists. I see promise in Vivian’s work and invited her to exhibit her work here.” Mrs. DeLorca explained. “I thought the west gallery would be perfect.”

“These footprints seem to come from and go to the west gallery.” Mia nodded.

“Well, then,” Mr. DeLorca grinned, “It seems to me that we should head West. Ah, but it makes me feel like an American pioneer and such. Pity I don’t have a travel bag filled with delicious cornbread and assorted dried meats to sustain me on the long journey and so on.”

“The west gallery is only three hundred feet away. We won’t need a covered wagon.” Mrs. DeLorca laughed.

“Pity.” Mr. DeLorca shrugged.

With that, they followed the footprints to the darkened west gallery. Mrs. DeLorca reached for the light switch and turned it on, but found that it didn’t work.

“The power seems to be off in here.” Mrs. DeLorca squinted. “That’s odd.”

Suddenly, they heard the clicking of a woman’s high heels in the dark room as if someone was trying to run away.

“Wait!” Mrs. DeLorca said, running into the dark room.

“I say, Joan, dear!” Mr. DeLorca called after his wife. “Don’t go in there.”

Meanwhile, downstairs at the wedding reception, Eben brought pieces of cake to Isaac, Kathy, Nancy and Sarah.

“Thank you, Eben.” Nancy said appreciatively. “I haven’t had any cake yet.”

“It’s one of Mrs. Conn’s best.” Eben smiled as he handed another plate to Sarah and one to Kathy.

“I’ve been looking forward to this all day.” Kathy said.

“Isaac, have you had any cake yet?” Eben asked.

“No.” Isaac shook his head.

Sarah squinted at her friend. She knew that Isaac had already had three pieces of cake. She also knew that Isaac’s mother had told him not to eat more than one piece of cake at the reception. Sarah was aware that Isaac liked to eat, and he liked cakes and cookies most of all. But, she was also aware that he was lying.

Eben set the cake down in front of Isaac who greedily picked up the fork. Isaac looked briefly at Sarah, knowing that she was aware of his lie. He smiled at his friend.

“Eben,” Sarah began.

“Yes, Sarah.” Eben smiled as he sat down next to his young friends.

“Ummmm…” Sarah paused.

What should Sarah do?

Should she tell Eben that Isaac was lying?
Should she say “never mind” and let Isaac eat the cake?
Should she suggest that Eben ask Isaac again if he’s had any cake?

Email your thoughts.

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