The Beach at Painter's Cove

by Shelley Noble

  “Of course, dear boy, we’re happy to have you.”

  “So many fascinating . . .”

  Issy blocked them out and wandered about the room, picking up objects and putting them down again. Counting the paintings; there were over twenty and this was just one room. She would need weeks just to get through the first floor. And there were another two floors and an attic.

  Fae and Steph came back with the lemonade and dustcloth. Issy went on to the next wall. Dead center, above a narrow table and in a place of honor, was a beach scape at night, painted from the knoll during a full moon. The pearlesence of the moonlight spilled across the waters, seeming to lift right out of the painting. Moonlight on Painter’s Cove. It was the last canvas Adam Ellis ever painted.

  Issy shuddered and decided to call it a day. No reason to bring up sad memories after such a productive morning.

  Steph handed her a glass. “I love the way the moon looks, like it’s lit up from the inside.” She studied it a few seconds longer, her hands fisted on her hippie-clad hips, then continued on with her dusting. She stopped again, frowning at a photo on the table beneath the painting. “Aunt Issy, is this you and Mom when you were kids?”

  Steph picked up a framed photograph from the table and laughed. “It is, and this must be Aunt Fae and—that’s the E—” She broke off and looked at Fae.

  The glass of lemonade slipped from Fae’s hand and shattered on the floor. Fae stared at the framed photo in Steph’s hand.

  Issy looked closer, took the photograph, and said in a muted voice, “That’s Adam Ellis, the man who painted Moonlight on Painter’s Cove. He was a good friend of Fae’s.”

  Issy returned the frame to the table, saying as she moved close to Steph, “He died in a car accident. It was quite awful.”

  “Oh.”

  “Not to worry. It was a long time ago. Take the cloth over to Paolo, please.”

  Steph ran over and handed it to Paolo, who moved everyone out of the way and sent Steph for a broom and dustpan.

  “Stupid me,” Fae said. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

  Issy had never been told the whole story of Fae and Adam Ellis, but she was beginning to wonder how many other secrets lay waiting in the artwork.

  “I think it’s time for lunch,” she said. “Shall we dine al fresco?”

  Issy, Steph, and Paolo changed into swimsuits while Leo and Fae filled an old wicker hamper with food, drinks, and a tablecloth. Paolo carried it down to the shore and settled Fae and Leo on the bench that Ben made.

  “Absolutely magnificent,” he said, taking a deep breath and scanning the coastline. He dropped the basket on the grass. “Last one in . . .” He ran down to the beach and into the water and let out a high-pitched squeal. “It’s freezing.”

  “City boy,” taunted Issy, running into the water and splashing him. Seeing Steph standing on the sand, arms crossed in front of her skimpy top, she and Paolo turned on her. Slowly they came out of the water.

  “Oh no you don’t,” she said.

  “Oh yes we do.” Paolo and Issy each took an arm and dragged her into the water, where they all promptly fell down laughing and shrieking.

  They swam out to where it was deeper, treaded water while they talked and laughed, and finally made their way back to shore for lunch and sunscreen.

  Issy spread the tablecloth on the grass and began unloading the picnic basket. There was a feast of celery and carrot sticks, cheese and bread, apples and grapes, bottles of water, and big squares of a cake that Chloe must have brought that morning.

  Paolo carried plates and drinks up to Leo and Fae. And Issy, for the first time ever, saw Paolo, to whom family was everything, in a family situation. Even though it wasn’t his family, he treated them with such respect and kindness and care.

  Actually he treated most people that way. Certainly Issy. And Chloe last night. It would be pretty cool if he and Chloe actually did hit it off. She was the epitome of how he described the wife of his dreams.

  “And what, bella, are you grinning at?” He stretched out between Issy and Steph and reached for an apple.

  “Nothing, just . . . happy.” Weird. In the midst of total upheaval, she was actually happy.

  “That me makes me happy,” Paolo said. “How about you, bella Stefania?”

  “Me?” Steph squeaked. She shrugged. “I guess.”

  “What is it, bella?”

  Steph looked up to where Leo and Fae sat near the two graves. “Tell me more about that painter. The one who painted the moon.”

  “Adam Ellis? He was very talented and really messed up. Drinking, drugs, a man of great passions but really on a downward spiral. I know he and Fae were good friends and she was trying to help him to stay sober.”

  “Were they, you know, like more than friends?”

  “I’m not sure, maybe. He was married. They lived in Manhattan, her family was super rich. I never met her, she never came up to the Muses.

  “One night she called him and demanded he come home. He’d been drinking heavily as usual. Everyone tried to talk him out of driving home, but he was adamant.

  “He drove his car through the guardrail and into the river. They found the car the next day downstream. The current had carried it almost to the sound and open water. Where it carried the body, no one ever knew.”

  “They never found the body?”

  Issy shook her head. “No one talks about it.” She couldn’t stop herself from looking up the hill to Aunt Fae. “And look who’s joining us,” she said, shaking off the gloom.

  Ben Collins was striding over the lawn toward them. Just seeing him made Issy’s day brighter. Made her glad to be home, even in crisis mode. You’d never find Ben driving his truck off the bridge in a drunken stupor.

  Issy loved the people who came to the Muses, they were fascinating and challenging, but sometimes she just needed to escape to someplace comforting. In those times she went to Chloe’s house, Chloe and her down-to-earth parents and her stinky, nerdy brother. Issy had forgotten how much they’d meant to her.

  Ben stopped by Leo and Fae, and Issy called out, “There’s lunch, come down.”

  He nodded, leaned over to talk to Leo and Fae, and came down to the beach.

  Issy scooted over, the story of Adam Ellis lifting from her shoulders. “Have a seat.”

  “Ha,” Ben said, sitting next to her and snagging a cluster of grapes. “I thought you were supposed to be working today.”

  “We did, and we will,” Issy said. “We’re on break. What about you?”

  “I brought the plumber. I left him with a dripping faucet and Jillian on the phone making demands on her agent. Do you think he’s safe?”

  “From Jillian? Not likely. It’s open season wherever she is. But she’s really on the phone with her agent? Hey, whose phone is she using?”

  “The house phone.”

  “Ugh. Using up Leo’s long-distance minutes instead of her own.”

  “Probably. Have you talked to her at all?”

  Issy shook her head.

  “Only when she threw the dustcloth at her,” Steph said.

  “You’ve come to blows already?”

  “No,” Issy said. “Do we have to talk about this? I’ll put a moratorium on phone calls when I go back. I shudder to think what she’s rung up already. Why doesn’t she call one of her friends to take her in?”

  “You’re going to have to talk to her, sooner or later. I mean really talk.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  Ben rolled his eyes to the sky. Paolo and Issy burst out laughing.

  “What?”

  “You just did our Deirdre exasperation expression.”

  “What’s that?”

  “When she does something annoying or clueless, we look up to the third floor, where we’re exhibiting the Cleveland Museum’s copy of The Thinker. You know the one?”

  “Yes, I know the one. Well, I’m glad to be part of the club.” Ben stood up. “Try the cake, Chloe made it. Got
ta run.”

  “You just got here.”

  “There’s a storm forming that may make its way here. Need to secure my experiments, set up some backups. No time to loll with the idle artistic. I just came by to make sure the plumber got here today.”

  “A storm. Anything we should be concerned about?”

  “Not yet. Gotta run.” And he left.

  “That was weird,” Issy said.

  “I think I make him uncomfortable,” Paolo said.

  “That’s crazy. He was fine last night.”

  “Yes, but I think maybe today is different . . . different since last night perhaps.”

  “What happened last night?”

  Paolo laughed. “Well, if you didn’t see it, I certainly did.”

  “What is wrong with Ben?” Leo said. “He barely got down there and now he’s turning around and coming back.”

  “He’s probably busy,” Fae said. “There’s a storm coming. I’m sure he has plenty to do to prepare for it.”

  “What kind of storm? One that you conjured?”

  Fae snorted. “One that I heard about on the news, which you would have heard, too, if you hadn’t been watching that SpongeBob character.”

  “Griff and Mandy love him. I confess I don’t quite get what it’s about.”

  Ben reached them, looking slightly perturbed. Fae wondered what was going on with him. She knew what she and Leo would like, but she also knew better than to get involved in other people’s lives. There was always hell to pay.

  “Ben, why didn’t you stay and have some lunch?” Leo asked. “We made plenty.”

  “I’m kind of busy.”

  “So busy that you brought Scott Rostand over, when he had a perfectly good truck of his own?” Fae said.

  “I don’t know. Three’s a crowd.”

  “There are already three,” Fae pointed out. “You would make four.”

  Ben shrugged, scratched his head, leaving his cowlick sticking up. “What’s between those two, anyway?”

  “What two?” Leo asked innocently.

  “Paolo and Issy. He paid attention to Chloe all night last night. But . . .” He frowned down at the group on the beach.

  “You just want to make sure his intentions are honorable?” Fae asked, wrestling with a smile.

  “I just want to know what his intentions are.”

  “He and Issy are colleagues. I don’t know about him and Chloe. But I’d say he’d be a good catch.”

  Ben did a double take at Fae, and she nearly lost it. What happened to the days of free love and musical beds and fun? Though she supposed those were the days before sex killed you. A shame. It was painful to watch this generation barter for sex and love.

  “Isn’t that what you were asking?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Well, why don’t you escort Leo and me back to the house and you can tell me exactly.”

  “Come, Leo. Ben will walk us home.”

  Chapter 20

  Fae and Leo accompanied Ben back to the house. The others reluctantly packed up the lunch things and beach towels a few minutes later. No one was in a working mood. That tended to happen after you’d been out in the sun and sand and waves. But work needed to get done.

  “Do you think my mother is ever coming back?” Steph asked as they trudged back to the house.

  “I hope so,” Issy said.

  “Me, too, and now her voice mail is filled up.”

  Issy nodded. “I know; I’ve been calling her, too.”

  “Do you think she stole Grammy’s money?”

  Yes, she did. But how could she tell that to Stephanie? In just a few days the girl had gone from sullen to curious and helpful, even fanciful. Steph was special in that Whitaker way. And finding out that her parents were not only crooks but stole from their own family could ruin that for her.

  Issy threw her arm around Steph’s shoulders and gave her a quick squeeze, before letting go. “Whatever happens, we’ll soldier on.”

  Paolo slowly turned his head to look at her. They both knew they wouldn’t be able to soldier on without a major miracle.

  Ben’s truck was gone when they reached the house. They dumped the towels and shoes in the mud room and carried the hamper into the kitchen.

  The plumber had left a note on the table that he had to get a part and would try to return tomorrow or the next day, which Issy filed under this is going to take forever.

  While Paolo and Stephanie returned the uneaten food to the fridge, Issy went in search of Fae and Leo to see if they wanted tea or if they were interested in doing a little more inventory that afternoon.

  She found Jillian instead, sitting at the escritoire in the parlor, with feet resting on a footstool that had been needlepointed by Hazel Whitaker in 1843. The house phone rested between her shoulder and her ear as she reached for a glass of what looked like orange juice, but the vodka bottle sitting out on the butler’s table suggested that happy hour had started at noon.

  “Talk to you soonest. Good-bye. Oh, Oops. I’m glad you’re here. I talked to George a while ago. He said to tell you he’s dropping by tomorrow afternoon. Expect him at three.”

  Issy just stared at her mother. One didn’t drop into Muses by the Sea from Hartford. Jillian must have put him up to it. How dare she butt into their business. And what did she think she could get out of it?

  “Well, don’t look at me; I didn’t invite him.”

  “But you called him,” Issy said, stepping into the room and immediately feeling at a disadvantage in her bikini. But she stood there, gritting her teeth, while Jillian gave her a quick once-over, before dismissing her. “Didn’t you?”

  “I just wanted to say hello.”

  “And how is Uncle George?”

  “He seems fine. You can ask him tomorrow.”

  “Mother . . .”

  Jillian gave her the eyebrow.

  “Mother . . . Aren’t you the least bit worried that your daughter Vivienne is missing?”

  “Oh, she isn’t missing. George’s people traced her and Dan to Panama.”

  “Panama?” And why hadn’t Uncle George bothered to communicate this to Issy? “Is she coming back?”

  “I’m not sure they can.”

  Issy took her time to shower and change, trying to decide whether to warn Grammy and Fae that George would be coming to talk to them and that Vivienne had been found, or to wait until he confirmed what Jillian had said.

  She was definitely telling Paolo and asking him to be there even though George would probably try to get rid of him for not being a member of the family. George could be a stickler like that. But Issy needed Paolo. She had a sneaking suspicion that Jillian and George were about to form a first and only partnership against the rest of the family.

  And that’s what it boiled down to. Issy was a part of the family and she had to make her stand where it counted.

  She towel-dried her hair and went downstairs. It was time for a meeting of the minds—if they could just get rid of Jillian so they could talk freely.

  Before she could gather the clan, Chloe arrived with Mandy and Griff. They dropped their backpacks and ran through the kitchen calling “Grammy, Grammy!”

  Issy followed them in time to see them screech to a halt and domino off each other. She came up behind them and saw Jillian still sitting there, on the phone again, with an admonishing finger to her lips to be quiet.

  Issy could feel them deflate. It broke her heart. Their mother had deserted them, and their grandmother was a cold fish.

  She eased them back into the hallway. “Hey, guys, how was camp?”

  “Good,” Mandy said.

  “Good,” Griff echoed. “Where’s Grammy?”

  “I think she’s still upstairs.”

  “Oh.” Griff hung his head.

  “Why don’t we go up and see if she’s awake?” said Issy. “But we have to be very quiet in case she’s napping.”

  “Okay,” breathed Mandy, and shushed Griff with a fin
ger to her lips.

  They tiptoed up the stairs and down the main hallway to Leo’s room. The children crowded in front of Issy and she quietly knocked on the door. They opened it a crack and looked inside.

  Leo was sitting on a chaise, a book turned over in her lap, her chin resting on her chest. But she opened her eyes and the two children took that as a cue to rush inside.

  Issy came in, too. “Sorry, Grammy, they were so excited to see you.”

  “And I’m so excited to see them, too.”

  Griff crawled up on the chaise to sit beside her, and she patted his nose with one finger. “I heard you calling me, Max.”

  “Griff,” Issy corrected her automatically.

  “That’s what I said. ‘I heard Mandy and Griff calling me.’” Her eyes flicked to Issy’s.

  “Look what I made you,” Griff said, and unwrapped a flat piece of dried plaster of paris. “It’s my handprint. We can put it on the table and I can check every time I come visit to see if my hand is bigger.”

  “What an excellent idea,” Leo said. “But this is such a big strong hand, does your hand really fit in there?”

  “Uh-huh, watch.” Griff stuck first one hand then the other until he got the right thumb in the thumbprint and fitted the rest of his hand to match.

  “But look what I made, Grammy,” Mandy said.

  “My goodness, what is that?”

  “I’m not finished with it yet. It’s going to be a lanyard bracelet, you take these four plastic ties and you fold them over and you . . .”

  Issy tiptoed out of the room.

  Stephanie wandered down the path through the woods. She shouldn’t be here, but she wanted . . . She didn’t know what she wanted. Aunt Fae had warned her about following the faeries but she didn’t say not to follow the Elf King.

  And Steph really needed to know.

  She kicked at a stone that stuck up from the path. What was she doing here, thinking about Elf Kings and faeries? She didn’t believe in that stuff. She believed in hanging out at the mall, not lurking in the woods hoping to catch a glimpse of things that probably didn’t even exist. Her friends would think she’d totally whacked out if they could see her now. If she said to them the things she said to Aunt Fae and Issy.