CHAPTER TWELVE – THE PROMISE ON THE SCREEN

Bernice crouched beside Mabel’s chair so they could speak at the same height.
She admitted that she had misrepresented the revised agreements and signed confirmations that had not been properly explained.
She said Celia had pressured her, but acknowledged that pressure did not make her statements true.
Mabel listened without interrupting.
“You told me my bird would come home,” she said.
“I did.”
“You knew they might sell it.”
Bernice lowered her eyes.
“By the time you asked again, yes.”
Doris stepped forward.
“Why didn’t you tell us?”
Bernice explained that she feared losing the program and being blamed for the agreements.
Leon shook his head.
“We could have decided what happened to our own work,” he said.
“You took that decision away before Celia ever opened the auction.

”
Bernice began to answer, then stopped.
“You’re right,” she said.
June moved nearer and held up the broken chair arm.
“And you threw things into our yard because you couldn’t tell them the truth.”
Bernice looked at the damaged wood.
“I’m sorry, June.”
“I wasn’t asking for an apology,” June replied.
“I wanted you to know I was there when it happened.”
The surrounding conversations had quieted.
Several donors and staff members were watching the group.
Celia approached with an event coordinator.
“This is not an appropriate place for an argument,” she announced.
Mabel lifted her chin.
“It’s our artwork on those tables,” she said.
“That makes it our place.”
Celia glanced toward Malik and his camera operator.
“We respect your feelings,” she said.
“But we cannot allow misinformation to disrupt tonight’s fundraising.

”
I took out my phone and asked Mabel whether she wanted the summer festival video played.
She nodded.
Malik offered to connect the clip to a small monitor used for interviews.
Imogen cautioned that the recording was relevant context, not a legal ruling.
Mabel said she understood.
The video began with the earlier festival’s applause.
People nearby recognized themselves and smiled uncertainly.
Then the announcer explained that the artists retained ownership unless they personally chose otherwise.
The camera showed Bernice in her red vest.
Her recorded voice promised that nobody could give away another person’s work.
The real Bernice stood a few feet from the screen, pale and motionless.
When the video ended, Doris addressed her directly.
“Did you mean it when you said that?”
Bernice nodded.
“Yes.”
“Then why did you stop acting like you meant it?”
Bernice looked around at the artists she had recruited.
“Because I was ashamed of what I’d already done,” she said.
“And every lie made it harder to admit the first one.”
Celia interrupted.
“This has become a theatrical performance.”
Bernice stood.
“No,” she answered.
“The performance was the one you asked me to give every time I told an artist the paperwork meant something it didn’t.”
Celia’s face flushed.
She demanded that Bernice stop making accusations in front of donors.
Bernice turned to Malik’s camera.
“I’m willing to give a formal statement to investigators,” she said.
“I’ve already admitted my actions to police.”
Mabel reached for the broken bird, which June carried carefully in a padded box.
She raised it just high enough for those nearby to see.
“This was supposed to be a gift for my granddaughter,” she said.
“Somebody broke it trying to keep a promise they had already broken.”