And Fae’s heart began to break.
She shouldn’t have let this go so long, Issy thought as she fought the slicing sheets of rain. She should have done something about preserving the paintings the day she found them. But she’d had so much else to deal with.
It was a relief just to get into the woods. The ground was slick, but she hurried down the path, anxious to complete this chore and return to the house before someone saw her and she had to make up some reason for being outside.
The rain seemed to be letting up, but that might be an illusion because of the trees. She could see the cabin up ahead. Dark, forlorn in the darkened light. She hurried onto the porch, and pulled out the key ring that held the keys to all the cabins. She’d shut the door the day she’d found the paintings. She assumed that it would still be locked.
It was, and it took several awkward tries of inserting the keys in the lock while holding a heavy flashlight before she found the one that worked.
She left them in the door and stepped inside. Shone the flashlight around the floor. The canvases were still there, where she’d left them. She propped the plastic roll against the wall, aimed the flashlight toward the first stack of paintings, and reached into her mackintosh pocket for tape and an X-Acto knife. She meant to put them on the easel to keep them from getting lost in the dark, but when she reached for the ledge she found there was a canvas already on it.
Strange, the central easel had been empty. Her stomach clenched as she realized someone must have been here since her discovery of the paintings. She snatched the flashlight off the floor and shone it on the canvas. It wasn’t finished, but it had been painted in a hurry, as if the painter didn’t want to forget the scene. The cove, the night sky, the full moon. And the eight figures dancing in the moonlight.
For an eternity, Issy just stood there, looking at it as disappointment clogged her throat. The paintings wouldn’t save Fae and Leo from the old-folks home. They wouldn’t save Muses by the Sea. But they might send Fae to jail.
She wanted to throw that last painting across the tiny room. But what good would that do? They had been her last hope. Even if she applied for every grant and loan for the following year, Leo and Fae would be long gone by then. Sotheby’s would have come in and taken what they thought valuable enough to auction. The local dealers would be given the next shot, then the Vets, and whatever was left they would pay to have carted away.
“Nooooo!” She snatched up the flashlight. Let the storm have the damn things, but she wouldn’t let anybody get the Muses. Somehow there had to be a way.
She locked the cabin. She’d have to confront Fae. Make sure she hadn’t sold any of the paintings. They’d fooled Issy. She wasn’t a trained authenticator but in her line of work you learned to spot obvious forgeries, and these were good. They just weren’t real . . . Like so many other things about the Muses and the people who lived there.
She took the path back to the house more slowly. Her sense of urgency washed away in the downpour. She’d have to tell Fae that she’d seen the paintings, make sure she hadn’t tried to sell them. Or maybe she already had as a last-ditch effort to save the house. Maybe that’s why she seemed so complacent.
And if one of those fakes was on the market now or even waiting to be sold . . . It would cause an uproar in the art-world rumor mill and a scandal for her family when the truth came out. But Issy hadn’t heard a thing, and if even a whiff of a rumor was out there, she would have heard about it. They were still safe for now.
Ben’s truck was parked outside the kitchen when Issy got back. Her heart lifted a little bit, but she really didn’t want to see anyone. With any luck he and Paolo would be putting up the shutters and everyone else would be having tea somewhere other than the kitchen.
She threw her raincoat on a peg in the mud room, pushed off the galoshes that were kept by the door, and slid into her espadrilles.
And ran smack into Chloe, who was putting on the kettle.
Leo was sitting at the table, cutting pieces of what looked like zucchini bread. “Where have you been?”
“I just remembered that Steph had been exploring those little cottages in the woods, the other day. I just wanted to make sure she closed the windows.” Sorry, Steph.
“And had she?” Chloe asked.
“What? Oh yes. False alarm.”
“Sit down; I’m making tea. The others are already having theirs in the parlor, but I put on a second kettle for Ben and Paolo, who are bound to be soaked when they get in. And I’ve hardly gotten to talk to you all week.”
“Hey, not my fault that someone here has moved in on my favorite design assistant.”
“Or that someone else has moved in on your brother,” Leo said. “Fae caught them kissing on the front porch.”
“She didn’t.” Chloe was smiling, but she turned serious. “Are you and he . . . like an item?”
“Chloe,” Issy warned, cutting her eyes toward Leo.
Leo threw back her head and cackled. “You think you invented sex? Ah, the things we did. The goings-on at this house.” She shivered. “They were wonderful. And Wes was wonderful.” She pulled herself back. “So? Are you?”
“Am I what?” asked Issy, blushing.
“An item.”
“Depends on what you mean by an item. We had a good time at dinner.”
“And he kissed you,” said Chloe.
“Well, I did kiss him back . . . for the record.”
“Oh, good.” Chloe got down the second teapot from the cabinet, poured in loose tea and hot water.
“But don’t get ahead of yourself,” Issy warned. She pointed a finger at Leo. “And don’t you, either.”
“You two would be perfect for each other,” Chloe said, ignoring her.
“You always say that about anybody.”
“No, I don’t. There have been several women I warned him about.”
Issy laughed. There was a hurricane on the doorstep, the family was broke, the Whitaker legacy was crashing down around their ears, Issy wasn’t even sure she’d have a job waiting when she finally got back to Manhattan, and here they were, talking about men. “Do you know you’re the best friend and best grandma anybody could have?”
“No, really. I mean it,” Chloe countered. “About Ben.”
“He’s my best friend’s brother.”
“Which is why it’s so perfect. You know all the good parts and the weird parts about him, too.”
Issy smiled. “I guess I do.”
The mud room door crashed open and Ben and Paolo pushed inside. “It’s torrential out there,” Paolo said, jumping up and down to shed the excess rain water from the mack he’d borrowed.
Ben was dressed in professional waterproof pants and coat, bright yellow. “He’s not kidding,” he said, deadpan.
“Well, come in. I just made tea.”
“Tea?” Ben crossed to the fridge. Pulled out two beers. Held them up for Paolo to see.
“Definitely. And maybe a couple of sandwiches.”
“Just bring that cold roast out of the fridge,” Leo told him. “Paolo, you know where the bread is.”
They had an impromptu picnic at the kitchen table, just the five of them. With the steam fogging up the windows and the wind howling just outside the door, Issy forgot about the conversation she would have to have with Fae soon. Forgot about most of her troubles as they laughed and reminisced and Paolo entertained them with some of his and Issy’s more ridiculous museum-opening moments.
Chloe and Issy switched to beer. Leo had a glass of Chardonnay from a bottle Chloe found in the fridge. Ben moved his chair closer to Issy and gave her a kiss on the cheek. And for a few minutes they forgot about the world.
Fae listened to the latest weather report and turned off the television. She made a final round of the windows in that part of the house and returned to the parlor, stopping to close the double pocket doors behind her.
“You’ll all be glad to know that the storm has been downgraded to a trop
ical storm and it has veered east without making landfall.”
“Does that mean we can go to camp tomorrow?” Mandy asked.
“Probably not tomorrow, we’re still in for some rain and flooding. We’ll be housebound for a day or two but we have plenty of food and games and Chloe and Ben are staying to keep you occupied.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” Jillian said. “Come have tea. Chloe made us a pot not long ago. I think it’s still warm. Where’s Leo?”
“I thought she was here,” Fae said, looking around.
“She was here a minute ago,” Vivienne said. “Kids, where’s Grammy? Steph, do you know where Grammy is?”
Steph shook her head, and went back to the book she was reading.
Fae hurried to the window.
“Can you see her?” Jillian asked, joining her at the window. “You don’t think she went outside?”
“I don’t see her.”
“Vivienne, take Mandy and Griff and go look upstairs. Steph, go—”
Steph shook her head.
“Stephanie,” Jillian repeated. “This is serious. We need to find her.”
“She told me not to say anything.”
“Oh my God, she’s gone to Wes. We’ve got to do something.”
Steph looked up from her book. “Chill, Jillian. She’s in the kitchen with Chloe. She told me not to tell because she needed a break from us.”
Chapter 29
The rain kept up a steady assault all afternoon. Since the hurricane had been downgraded to a tropical storm, Leo went upstairs for a nap and Ben and Chloe decided to go home.
“Take Paolo with you,” Issy said.
“No,” Paolo said. “You may need me for the heavy lifting.”
“Thanks, but I think any heavy lifting can wait until the rains pass. We’ll be fine. The Muses is like a fortress. Go off and enjoy the storm with Chloe.”
Ben lingered after the two had left. “I can stay, if you need me.”
“Thanks, and you’re always welcome, but I know you’re anxious to check on your instruments.”
“It’s just I’m at the culmination of two months of observations and data collection.”
“Go, but be careful. And call me to let me know you’re okay.”
Ben looked surprised, then he grinned, and kissed her.
Fae came in while Issy was sitting at the table, wishing she hadn’t been so quick to send Ben on his way.
“What is wrong with those children?”
“Which children?”
“Mandy and Griff. They’re sniping and whining and picking at each other. I’ve never seen them like this. It must be the barometric pressure.”
“More likely boredom,” Issy said. “I think dinner in front of the television is in order.”
“If the electricity doesn’t go out. It usually does. Comes from all the new housing construction and a very old grid.”
Issy was always surprised that Fae could go from burning sage to oust evil spirits to discussing barometric pressure and old electrical grids in a heartbeat. The pathways of her mind were always fascinating.
“Well, if it does go out, my laptop is charged, though I imagine Wi-Fi will be out, too.”
“Mandy and Mini Me are hungry,” Steph said, coming into the kitchen. “They’re driving us all crazy.”
“What happened to those kids?” Fae asked. “Do they always whine and fight like that at home?”
“Yes.”
“And are you always so morose?” Issy poked Steph in the ribs to lighten the question.
“Me? I’m not morose.”
“Have you even spoken to your mother yet?”
Steph shrugged. “Why should I? She stole Grammy’s money and she’s being a bitch to everyone else. I wish she’d go back to stay with Dad instead of making everybody miserable here.”
“Oh, dear,” Fae mumbled to herself.
“Well, it’s true.” Steph’s lip trembled. In a second she would be running off somewhere to be alone, hopefully indoors.
Issy wanted to tell her it didn’t do any good. But Steph was already heading for the door to the hall. She ran right into her mother, holding a stack of plates. Steph backed up reflexively. And bumped into Fae.
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” Steph mumbled.
Vivienne put the plates on the table. “What is wrong with you? You’ve been acting worse than normal since I’ve been back.”
Steph hung her head and eased closer to Fae.
“Vivienne, cut her some slack, why don’t you?” Issy said. Wrong thing to do. Vivienne turned on her.
“What do you know about raising children?”
“Well, I’d think those who have been through the trauma of being left by their mother without explanation—you should be able to relate to that one—find themselves in police custody, and have to call an aunt they hardly know to help them deserve a little slack.”
“Like we got?”
“We landed in a cushy life with people who loved us. And took care of us.”
“And knew nothing about what we really needed.”
“It’s what I needed.”
“Well, goody for you. Look at her.”
Issy couldn’t tell if she was pointing to Steph or Fae because they were standing so close together and were dressed almost identically today in their favorite patchwork overalls and tie-dyed T-shirts. Issy had gotten so used to seeing Steph copying Fae and Leo’s dress code that she’d almost stopped noticing.
“She’s turned from a typical teenager to a flower child in a few short weeks. And the trash she’s reading. Oh yes, I saw it in your room.”
“I’d hardly call a Victorian classic trash,” Fae said calmly. But Issy could see her fingering the sage stick in her overalls pocket.
“I just hope you haven’t done irreparable harm. George is right, you should be locked up.”
“Wait a minute,” Issy said. “George never said that. He suggested assisted living because he thought it would be easier for both Fae and Leo and because there isn’t enough money to even pay the taxes on the Muses. And who can we thank for that? Oh. You.”
Fae eased away from Steph and came to Issy. “It’s all right, you don’t have to stick up for me. Vivienne’s allowed her opinion.”
“My opinion? Everybody thinks you’re crazy, no matter what they say to your face.”
Stephanie lunged before Issy or Fae had an inkling of what she was doing. The force of the impact made Vivienne stagger backward.
“You’re horrible. You don’t care about anybody but yourself. I hate you!” Steph slammed out of the room.
Fae moved toward the door, but Vivienne stood in front of it. “Don’t you dare go after her. Haven’t you done enough harm already?” She turned and stalked out of the room.
Fae sagged and Issy just managed to pull out a chair from the table before she crumpled into it and covered her face with both hands.
Leo stood looking out the window and closed her ears and her mind to the noise. The television, the arguments, even the rain hurt her head. She touched the windowpane as if she could touch Wes through the glass, but it was slick with a river of rain. How she needed him, when the family was falling apart. To lie quiet in his arms as the rain beat against the house, safe within his love, within his world.
We loved storms, didn’t we? Making love beneath the thunder and lightning, Wes slick and sweating and powerful, crescendoing with the storm, not stopping with the calm. We were immortal, god and goddess of all that was beautiful, passionate, iconic. The bedcovers falling to the floor, Wes and Fae falling with them and laughing. We laughed so hard and wrapped ourselves together in the quilt like a cocoon and waddled to the window to watch clouds roll in and the rain pound down and we couldn’t stop from tumbling to the floor and taking each other once again. Your hands are everywhere and mine—
“I’ve had it with you. You’ll go upstairs and change into something normal.”
Leo’s
palm slid from the window. Wes was gone.
“I didn’t mean to cause that,” Fae said.
“You didn’t,” Issy assured her. “Vivienne is angry at everyone but herself. She’s like that donkey in Winnie-the-Pooh.”
“Eeyore.”
“Yes.” Issy smiled at her. “I hope you didn’t take all that stuff she said seriously.”
“About me being crazy and needing to be locked up? Dear Issy, it’s been said for my whole life. I never tried to change because I just didn’t understand how to do it. Nor did I want to. I don’t see anything wrong with me.”
“And I don’t, either.” Issy leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Now I’m going to fix a tray for those little hellions that should keep them buzzing for hours and send their mother into a fit of apoplexy. Do we have any Cheez Doodles?”
Mandy and Griff ate in front of the television. With their mouths stuffed and the sound blaring, Issy couldn’t tell if they were fighting or not.
Everyone who hadn’t eaten managed on their own and by the time it grew dark they were all back in the parlor attempting to appear like a family while the storm raged around them. Leo look rested but preoccupied. Fae had brought out a bag that held yarn and a crochet hook, which she used with fierce concentration. It was surprising. Issy had no idea she’d taken up crocheting.
Jillian stood by the window looking out at the rain while nursing her gin and tonic. Steph had yet to make an appearance. Issy caught herself reaching for her laptop—very rude. Eyed the tube of Toulouse-Lautrec specs. No place to spread them out. For a moment she even considered checking out whatever was blaring from the television.
She did none of them. Just sat there.
Stephanie finally came downstairs, still dressed in her Fae clothes, which Issy had to admit she was glad to see. Time for that kid to start making a break from all that bad energy.
Issy smiled at her thought. She was beginning to sound a little like Aunt Fae herself.
The Beach at Painter's Cove Page 32
