Tears filled her eyes. “I don’t know. It’s not about you. I’m the one who messed up. I’m sorry. I’m trying to figure out what’s wrong. Can you give me a little more time?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Are you telling me to come back?”
“You know I’d never do that,” he told her. “That’s why you’re asking. You get to say that you wanted to make sure I was okay with what you were doing. Then no matter what, it’s not your fault. Neatly played.”
And with that, he hung up.
* * *
Nina had debated the best way to handle the painting situation. Who would ever expect her mother and Bertie would find a piece of art worth ten million dollars? If she didn’t know better, she would think there were secret cameras from a reality show, monitoring her soon-to-be-experienced breakdown.
She’d decided on a direct approach, after certain safety precautions were in place. With Averil’s help, they’d unearthed a key to the big safe in the store and put the painting in there. The key was now in her safety deposit box at the local bank.
“You’re up for this?” she asked her sister.
Averil nodded, then climbed off her bed. “Sure. We have to convince Bertie to act normal, which shouldn’t be too difficult. Then she can be the one to keep Mom in line.”
All things they’d discussed before, only Averil didn’t sound very enthused. “Are you upset?” Nina asked. “Did you want to talk about another plan?”
The last thing she needed was her sister going over to the dark side in the middle of the conversation. The best way to corral Bonnie was to present a united front.
“I’m fine with it,” Averil told her. “I swear. I’ve got some other things on my mind.”
Nina wasn’t sure she could handle another crisis, but she knew her role in the family. “What’s wrong? How can I help?”
“You can’t,” Averil told her. “I need to handle this one myself.”
Nina wished that were true. Eventually all problems led to her door. But for now, she would take the words at face value and be grateful.
“Okay, then let’s go.” She headed for the door, then paused. “You agree that we can’t say it’s a four-way decision, right? It’s not our painting.”
Averil shook her head. “This is Bertie and Mom’s windfall. Not ours. Not that I would say no to a large cash settlement.” Her mouth turned up in a smile, although her eyes were still sad.
Nina nodded. She agreed with her sister. This wasn’t like a family inheritance or grandmother’s legacy. They were interested parties, but not the principles.
The sisters made their way into the living room where Bertie and Bonnie were already waiting on the sofa. Nina smiled as she saw them. The women were different in every way. Bonnie was tall and curvy—Nina had inherited her body type, if not her personality. With long blond hair and blue eyes, Bonnie looked more like a California surfer than a Blackberry Island native. Minus the tan, of course.
Their personalities were different, too. Bonnie was impulsive and generous, but not a detail person. She loathed planning, thought responsibilities were like dirty toilets—best left for others to deal with. She loved the world and assumed that was enough to cause others to overlook her flaws.
She loved her children, yet thought nothing of burdening her oldest daughter with the responsibilities no child should ever have handled.
Both women looked up as she and Averil walked into the living room. Bonnie laughed.
“A family meeting. I’m so curious. Nina, are you running off with your young man?”
“Dylan and I are friends.”
Bonnie’s eyebrows rose. “I meant Kyle.”
“Oh. No, we’re not running off.”
“Keep using him for sex,” Bertie said with a smile. “You deserve it.”
Bonnie leaned into her partner. “I’m not sure you should be giving advice on men, my love.”
“Why not? All relationships have certain aspects in common. Although I’ll admit to a complete lack of knowledge when it comes to men.”
Averil took one of the chairs and Nina sat in the other. Nina laced her fingers together as she tried to figure out how to start.
“You look serious,” her mother said, her smile fading. “Is it bad? I don’t want to hear anything bad.”
“We’re all fine,” Nina told her quickly. “No one is sick or anything. It’s about the painting.”
“The ugly one?” Bonnie asked. “We can’t sell it. That would be wrong. No one should pay good money for something that ugly.” She shuddered. “It violates everything I believe about life being beautiful.”
Bertie’s gaze sharpened as she studied Nina. She took Bonnie’s hand in hers. “Let’s hear her out.”
Nina smiled gratefully, then drew in a breath. “Dylan came to see me last week. He said there was something familiar about the painting, but it took him a while to place it. He showed me some pictures on his phone and said he thought it might be by an artist who was a disciple of Picasso. Emilion Stoicasescu.”
Both women stared at her blankly.
“Of course I know about Picasso,” Bertie said. “But I’ve never heard of his friend. The last name sounds familiar, though....”
Bonnie nodded. “Catherine or something. Are they related?”
“Caterina is his granddaughter, but that’s not exactly the point.” Nina did her best to look casual. “I found an art expert to come up and look at it. His name is Ambrose and he agrees the painting is by Emilion, and is probably an original. Ambrose is knowledgeable and was really helpful. Based on his suggestion, I’ve locked the painting in the safe at the store for now. Until you two decide what you want to do.”
“Oh,” Bertie murmured. “You mean we could sell it?”
“Yes. You could. In the meantime, Ambrose suggested we insure it for ten million dollars.”
Bonnie collapsed back on the sofa. Her shoulders started shaking and soon she was laughing. The happy sound filled the room.
“Is she slipping over the edge?” Averil asked quietly.
Nina shrugged.
After a few more seconds, Bonnie straightened and wiped her eyes. “How wonderful. Nina, whenever I start to worry about you, you surprise me with something like this. So funny. Thank you, darling. That was exactly what I needed this morning. A wonderful joke for all of us.”
Bonnie started to stand. Bertie pulled her back to the sofa. “She’s not kidding.”
“Of course she is. Don’t be ridiculous. We couldn’t possibly have found a painting worth...” The humor faded, along with Bonnie’s color. “No. We didn’t. That doesn’t happen in real life. It was a storage unit auction. Who would put something that valuable in a storage locker?”
“Somebody did, Mom,” Nina told her. “Like I said, it’s safe for now. I wanted to let you know what I’d done and get your permission to—”
“Our permission?” Bonnie shook her head. “Mine and Bertie’s? No. This is a family thing.”
“You two are the ones who bought it. It’s yours.”
Bertie took Bonnie’s hand again. “What is the next step?” she asked.
“Ambrose gave me the name of a few banks in Seattle where we can safely store the painting while we’re working through the process. The painting needs to be authenticated. We’ll have to confirm it wasn’t stolen from a government or museum that will want it back. After that, you can pretty much do anything with it.”
“We could give it to orphans,” Bonnie said happily. “Although it’s ugly and would frighten them. Oh, I know. We can open a little museum here in town. Charge two dollars for people to go through and see it.”
“Or we could sell it,” Bertie said drily.
“That’s not very fun.”
“We can’t afford to keep it,” Bertie told her. “None of us can afford the insurance, let alone whatever special display would be required. A painting that valuable doesn’t fit into our lives.”
“Neither does ten million dollars.” Bonnie shuddered. “That’s too much money.”
“Not divided four ways and after taxes. The girls would be set for life, as would we.”
“I wouldn’t say no to the check,” Averil said. “But you two need to do what you think is right with the painting.”
“I agree,” Nina told them. “But whatever you decide, for now we need to keep this quiet.”
Bertie nodded, but Bonnie’s expression turned stubborn.
“Why?”
“We have the painting secured. We don’t want to risk it being stolen or hurt in any way.”
“She’s right,” Bertie said, facing Bonnie. “You know how much I love you.”
Bonnie sighed. “You always say that right before you tell me something I don’t want to hear.”
“Yes, I do, because you don’t like to hear the truth. We need to be responsible about this. Nina has gone to a lot of trouble for us, and we have to honor her hard work. She’s right about the painting. We must keep the secret for now. I’m worried if you tell someone, you’ll be taken advantage of.”
Bonnie’s mouth blossomed into a pout. “You’re treating me like a child.”
“Yes,” Bertie said. “I wonder why that is.”
“Fine,” Bonnie said with a huff. “I won’t tell anyone.”
With that, she stood and stalked out of the room. Bertie watched her go, then turned back to Nina.
“You’ve put a lot of thought into this. Thank you. You’re right about moving the painting to Seattle. I don’t think there’s a big rush, but I think it should happen in the next couple of weeks.”
“I was going to take a day off next week, but I can talk to Andi if you think it should be sooner.”
Bertie smiled. “I think your mom can hold off for that long. I’ll talk to her.” She rose and crossed to Nina. She touched her shoulder. “It always falls to you, doesn’t it?”
“I’m used to it.”
“I’m sure you are.” Bertie left.
Nina turned to her sister. “You okay with all this?”
Averil nodded. “I have no idea what they’re going to do with it. I hope they sell it, but I wouldn’t put it past Mom to give it to orphans, like she said.”
“It’s a tax deduction she’d be living off for the rest of her life.”
* * *
After the painting discussion, Averil returned to her bedroom. She booted her laptop, but instead of opening the file for the article she’d been writing, she went to her picture file and started a slide show.
These were photos she’d scanned in from when she was a kid. They showed her in costumes, her with a neighbor’s dog, her in school plays and other events. Nina was with her in some, but mostly her sister was behind the camera.
Nina had always handled things, just like she’d done today. She’d taken care of the details. No matter what, Averil knew she could depend on her sister.
Bonnie opened her door and walked in.
“Hi,” her mother said, walking over to her desk and staring at her computer. “Oh, look at how adorable you were.”
Averil glanced at the screen. She was maybe seven or eight, dressed as a pumpkin, for Halloween. Bonnie had made the costume herself—it had taken days.
Her mother crossed to the bed and sprawled across the comforter. “I remember trying to convince you to be something else,” Bonnie said. “But you wanted to be a pumpkin.”
Averil smiled. “I could be stubborn.”
“Yes, you could. You always had such a strong personality.”
Not like Nina. Bonnie didn’t make the statement, but she didn’t have to. Bonnie loved her firstborn, but sometimes Averil wondered if her mother had resented her, too.
Bonnie had been sixteen when she’d gotten pregnant. She’d refused to marry the boy, despite pressure from both sets of parents. They’d broken up and gone their separate ways.
Four years later love, or at least sex, had flared between them again and Bonnie had gotten pregnant for a second time. Twenty and a single mom with a four-year-old, she’d accepted her boyfriend’s proposal this time. Averil had been born a few months later.
But within a year, he’d been gone, and Bonnie had been living with her mother. Averil did the math and realized that when Bonnie had been her age, Nina had already been nine and running the household.
Bonnie rolled toward her. “Remember when you were little and we used to pretend we were princesses held in a tower?” She laughed. “We would plot our escape and then travel all over the world. I wonder if those old maps are still up in the attic. Remember how we always looked for the most exotic countries and cities with the strange names?”
Averil nodded. While Nina had taken care of things like cooking and urging her mother to go grocery shopping, Bonnie had been content to play pretend and dress-up with her youngest. All those years ago, Bonnie had insisted they were both princesses. When Averil had tried to tell her that Bonnie needed to be the queen, she’d gotten upset. She didn’t want to be the queen.
Averil realized now that there had been a message in that protest. Being the queen meant being the grown-up in the room. Worse, the escape they had planned had been from Nina—a child herself who was simply trying to survive.
Their grandmother had helped out, Averil thought. But after she died, it had all fallen to Nina. Bonnie had resisted the rules imposed by her oldest daughter even as she’d looked to her to handle things. It had been an impossible situation for all of them. Averil had survived with a relatively normal childhood, but she’d been left with a confusing relationship with both her mother and her sister.
Bonnie sighed. “What do you think about the painting?”
“That you got lucky.”
“I suppose that’s one way to look at it. All that money if we sell it. Or we could keep it. Or give it away. Bertie will decide.” She sat up. “We could get a reality show. That would be fun.”
“I don’t think I’m ready for reality television,” Averil told her. She had a feeling that if there was a camera trained on her 24/7, she might not come off in the best light.
“What are you ready for?” Bonnie smiled at her. “Why are you here, Averil?”
“I don’t know. I needed to think, but I’m not spending much time doing that. I’m at the store or writing my articles.”
“Is it Kevin? Are you escaping him?”
“No. I love him.”
“From a distance? Is he easier to love from up here?”
An unexpectedly insightful question, she thought wryly. “Maybe. He’s so good to me and I’m not sure I deserve that.”
“Of course you do. We all deserve to be loved. Is it because he wants to start a family?”
“Some. I thought I was ready, but I’m scared. I don’t want to mess up. Being a mom will change everything.”
Bonnie continued to smile without comment. Averil wondered if that was because, for her mother, little had changed with her children. There had always been someone there to take care of the details. Averil didn’t want to be like her, but she also wasn’t ready to sacrifice herself the way Nina had. Of the two of them, Nina had been the one who’d wanted to escape the island, yet here she was. Stuck.
“Did you discuss children before you got married?” Bonnie asked.
“Sure. I do want them. I just don’t know how they’ll fit. Or how I’ll change.”
“Love makes us stronger,” Bonnie told her. “You’re such a gentle spirit. Your children will be a blessing.” She laughed. “Besides, I’ll be a great grandmother.”
“They will adore you, that’s for sure.”
Bonnie clapped her hands together. “They can stay with Bertie and me for the summer. We’ll love it.”
Averil thought about how Bonnie would allow her grandchildren to do anything they wanted, which was both good and bad.
Bonnie’s smile faded. “What do you want, Averil? Deep in your heart, what moves you?”
Averil considered
the question. “I want to be with Kevin. I love him and he’s a good man. I want to make him happy.”
“Happiness comes from inside. You can’t make anyone happy. That’s their choice.”
“Okay, then I want to be a better wife. I want him to be proud of me.”
“Isn’t he now?”
“I don’t know. I keep talking about writing a book and I’m not. I can’t seem to start it. Every time I think I have a great idea, it falls apart.”
“Write about a family that finds a famous painting. How it changes them.”
“You think it’s going to change us?” Averil asked.
“No,” her mother told her. “Because we’re strong. But it would change others.”
An arrogant statement clothed in charm, Averil thought. The painting had already changed things.
Her mother stood and crossed to her. After hugging Averil, she straightened. “Find your own way. Follow that path to wherever it leads. That’s where you’ll be happy.”
Averil wasn’t sure what her mother meant, but she nodded. Bonnie left.
Averil clicked on her word processing program, then stared at the blinking cursor. Its unceasing urging reminded her of Nina. How her sister had insisted she leave the island and go to school somewhere else. Averil had decided on UCLA mostly because of the location. And because she’d heard of the paper. Majoring in journalism had seemed her best option.
But she hadn’t really wanted to go. She’d wanted to stay on the island, at least a while longer. She unexpectedly saw the connection to her mother in not wanting to be the queen. Because staying on the island meant not having to grow up so quickly. But life wasn’t like that, and eventually every young girl had to grow up. There came a time when one had to stop pretending to be a princess and accept the role as queen. At least of one’s own life.
The picture of a princess lodged in her brain. Her hands moved to the keyboard.
No, not a princess, she thought. A rich teenager in a house full of staff. A cliché, maybe, but one she could work with. And not a teenager. Maybe twenty-three was a better age. Post college. Assuming she’d made it through college. Unless that was what the fight was about.
“We’re cutting you off.”
Evening Stars Page 18
