Ferry and I graced the front page of the Community Arts section of the Sunday paper. Nevertheless, I hesitated to read the article itself. But with each reluctant word read, my cheeks rose as my lips tilted at the celebration of my return, not the mockery. Wilt had paid respect to my late wife through his brief explanation of my sudden yet long departure from the public eye. He honored my need to escape and showcased what he called my triumphant return.
Even I started to believe a revival was possible. The art world might again embrace their once golden boy, possibly without ridicule. Chills ran up my arms in anticipation and turned into uncontained excitement as I hopped around in circles, dancing like a child.
The doorbell quelled my exuberance. Surely Ferry had read the paper and th
