I’m Picasso’s “Weeping Woman” Mary Page Willoughby tells herself one day over a cup of coffee. Uneven reptilian eyes, crooked teeth, broken up abstract face, all crowned by a ridiculous garden club hat, a long way from the wife of the handsome scion of a wealthy family. At least until he runs off with a candy-eyed paralegal whose vanity plate reads IMCUTE. And so begins Mary Page’s new chapter as a single mother to a grumpy twelve-year-old who christens their new home “The Shed” as she embarks on a life she never planned on leading, stepping from the hushed grandeur of the Society of Virginia, country clubs and parties at the Rochester Davenport mansion and starts all over, head held high. Now, feeling like a foreigner in her home town of Richmond, VA, she must forge a new relationship with her estranged husband; prove to her parents she can manage without having to move home; mother a resentful daughter; and earn a living when she hasn’t had a fulltime job in over a decade because selling little garden scenes won’t pay the bills.

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