Kathleen left Scott six months before his death because of his addictions. He loved his fine whiskey and his assorted women, most of them lonely seekers who came to Sedona looking for spiritual enlightenment from high-priced New Age gurus.
Scott knew where to find the women, often corralled at some hotel bar murmuring about the spiritual wonders they had experienced in Sedona that day and charmed them easily into his finely-spun web of lies and deceit. A superb dinner at one of Sedona’s high-priced restaurants, a bit of close dancing, and the lonesome women fell easily into bed with him hoping this would be more than just a one-night stand. And, often it was, until Scott grew tired of the New Age babble they spouted with enthusiasm, believing everything in their lives were related to the crystals they hung around their necks.
Kathleen’s Irish-Catholic stoic temperament carried her through most of her trials with Scott, his belligerent language and behavior toward her, never seen in public. But it was his last volatile attack on her that finally forced her to face the state of her empty marriage. The day was crushed into her consciousness.
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