Convicted (Consequences)

theoretically less successful.
    In this instance, Sophia questioned their tactics. As an artist, she knew publicity was publicity. The additional exposure the memoirs received from the suits and counter suits would likely propel the book My Life As It Didn’t Appear to number one in no time.
    Thankfully, Iowa wasn’t as backwards as Sophia had feared. The Quad Cities and the universities all helped to make it more than a large corn field thousands of miles away from the nearest coast. Sophia had met many of the people in Derek’s new circles. Their wives were nice. Sophia especially liked Sue, Tim’s wife; however, with one small child and one on the way, their priorities were considerably different. Sophia and Derek discussed children and the possibility was there. Right now, he needed to concentrate on work. Sophia knew that when she had a child, she wanted to do it for the right reason—being lonely in a new state—in her opinion—wasn’t the right reason.
    Deep down, Sophia knew that before she became a parent, she needed to work through some personal thoughts and feelings regarding her birth parents. Since the phone call back in California, Sophia hadn’t heard from the woman claiming to be her mother—of course, she had told her not to call. Sometimes she’d wonder about the woman. Was she still married to Sophia’s father? Was she ever married to him? If they’re not together, did she know where he was? What about siblings—did she have any?
    The Rossi’s were always open about her adoption; it never bothered Sophia—until they were gone. While they were alive, they did everything to fill her life with all the love and support parents do. Perhaps, now that they’re gone, it was a void Sophia subconsciously wanted filled; however, how did she know if the woman from the phone call was capable of filling that void?
    Sophia wasn’t completely without friends. She’d met an acquaintance—repeatedly—at different venues. Although admittedly, Marie was slightly eccentric, Sophia found her presence comforting. There was something familiar about the woman that Sophia couldn’t pin-point. With time, when at gallery openings or invitation only showings, Sophia found herself scanning the crowd for the older woman’s face. With so many changes, Marie seemed to be a reoccurring constant; therefore, when Marie invited Sophia to lunch at the Atlas on Iowa Ave, near the University of Iowa’s campus, Sophia gladly accepted. She decided that it was nice to have someone to talk with—someone with similar interests.
    “Can you believe how cold that wind is today?” Marie’s voice pulled Sophia from her internal thoughts.
    Smiling, Sophia shook her head. “No! I know we didn’t live out in California for very long, but I miss the climate out there. I liked the more constant temperature.”
    Marie laughed. “Oh, my dear, this is just the beginning; wait until the snow really starts to fly.”
    After settling at a table, they chatted about nothing in particular. It was nice to forget the wind outside, the move to a new state, and just talk. Marie’s gray eyes gave Sophia a sense of warmth she didn’t understand. As an artist, she often dissected people’s faces without realizing she was doing it. Sophia saw sadness and loss in Marie’s eyes; however, there was also a spark of excitement that tugged at her like a magnet. When Marie would suggest a new exhibit or a museum, the ideas seemed extraordinarily inviting. In some ways, it was like a mirror at a circus. Marie’s eyes reminded her of her own—yet they were different—complicated—multi-tasking. Sophia couldn’t put her finger on it...nevertheless, she was drawn, like a moth to a flame.
    “Did you enjoy your trip out East for Thanksgiving?”
    Sophia nodded. “We did. It was short, but it was nice to see my in-laws.”
    “Since you visited your husband’s parents for Thanksgiving, will you be traveling to your parents for Christmas?”
    Sophia looked down. “No.”
    Reassuringly, Marie’s hand covered Sophia’s. “I’m sorry, did I say something upsetting?”
    “It’s all right. It’s just that...my parents are no longer with us.”
    “Oh, my dear, I’m so very sorry. I won’t pry.”
    Forcing a smile, Sophia sat straighter. “Really, it’s all right. I’ve—had wonderful parents, but t—they’ve only recently passed away, late last summer. It was a car accident.”
    Marie shook her head. “I had no idea. I’m truly