Oberon Boxed Set (Books 1-3) Welcome to Oberon

by P. G. Forte

  “Well, me, too,” Scout answered as her eyes scanned the area around the stage. “Besides, you got a lot more than I did. I mean, three pieces of furniture, and a few little odds and ends is nothing compared to the clean sweep you made here today.”

  “Three pieces of very expensive antique furniture.” Lucy felt compelled to point out. “Not counting Mandy’s desk. And several hundred dollars’ worth of odds and ends. And your father’s painting hasn’t even come on the block yet.”

  Scout’s chin rose proudly, a very small, very determined smile curled her lips. “Wrong. There it is now. That painting’s mine, Lucy. Just watch and see.”

  An expectant hush had fallen over the crowd in the auction tent as the painting which had drawn Scout here was unveiled. Lucy felt her eyes widen in appreciation. “Oh, Scout. It’s wonderful.” She was so used to the artwork hanging on the walls in her friend’s house that she almost didn’t see them anymore. She’d almost forgotten how very good a painter Scout’s father had been.

  Scout’s eyes were shining. “It is good, isn’t it?”

  “It’s amazing,” Lucy averred. She had not been prepared for the size of the thing, either. It was an almost life-size, full length representation of a woman standing drenched in sunlight, on a terrace overlooking the lush, green and russet fields of a vineyard just before the harvest. Everything within the picture was warm, with the sole exception of a small square of perfect blue sky in the upper left hand corner. And everything – from the stones on the terrace to the grapes on the vines, even the woman’s skin and hair – seemed to glow with light. And with life.

  “I remember when he was working on it, you know?” Scout’s voice sounded dreamy. “He wasn’t always pleased with the way some paintings turned out. But he was with this one. I think it was one of his favorites.”

  “I can see why it would be,” Lucy murmured. Her feet were like ice, a chill rain was falling and the canvas they were seated under did nothing to keep out the cold. But just looking at that painting made her feel warmer. As if it really were summer now. Or as if winter were a rumor only, and nothing she had ever actually encountered.

  The bidding began and Scout leaned forward eagerly. She wasn’t the only one interested in acquiring the painting, and Lucy could tell by the excitement in the air that they were in for a long contest. Scout’s smile didn’t so much as waver as she met every bid with an air of utter confidence. Lucy watched the bidding for a little while, and then went back to contemplating the object of the struggle itself. She could almost feel the heat that would have been shimmering on those vines, could almost see the grapes expand to the point of bursting, could almost taste the juice. And the woman, too, seemed almost ready to step from the canvas – if she could work up the energy to move. Something about her languid pose drew Lucy’s eye back to her. She considered again the ripe, sensuous lines of her body, the lazy, flushed expression on her face.

  “Scout, was she pregnant?”

  “Hm? What?” Scout blinked distractedly. “Oh. Gwen, you mean? Yeah, she was. A little boy. She lost it though, a few weeks after the painting was completed. I seem to remember her having claimed that all the hours she’d spent posing might’ve had something to do with it.”

  “Oh, that’s so sad.” Lucy sighed. “So, you would have had a brother?”

  “Mm.” Scout raised her hand to signal another bid. “Lucy, d’you mind? I’m trying to concentrate here.” There was an edge of something, not quite nervousness, in Scout’s voice. Lucy glanced at her quickly. She was still smiling, rather smugly – almost as though she were amused by the efforts of the others to bid against her – and her eyes glowed with purpose. She signaled again.

  Most of the other bidders had dropped out now. It was down to only two of them… Scout and an equally determined young man. But if anything, Lucy thought, Scout’s smile seemed to have grown brighter. She contemplated her friend’s expression for a few moments, and then, realizing she’d lost track of where the bidding had gotten to, she focused her attention on the auctioneer’s voice, trying to make sense of his words. She gasped in shock when the patter suddenly resolved itself into numbers. Astronomical numbers.

  “Omigod. Scout! Shit, are you crazy?”

  “Shh!” her friend admonished, signaling yet again.

  Lucy clutched the arms of her chair, and exerted all her will to keep herself from hyperventilating. Were they serious about those prices? It was just a painting of the vineyard they were vying for, wasn’t it, and not the vineyard itself? Of course, for Scout, it wasn’t just a painting. But even so... Christ, and people said she was obsessed with family!

  Finally, when Lucy was sure she was about to have a heart attack, it was over. The auctioneer accepted Scout’s latest bid, and called for another but this time there was no answering nod from her opponent. Every head in the place swiveled in his direction, as the auctioneer called again for a bid, but he just shrugged and shook his head.

  Scout sighed with satisfaction and relaxed back into her seat. “All right!” she said, softly. She turned and smiled at Lucy. “Well? I told you I’d get it, didn’t I?”

  “Yeah.” Lucy shook her head. “But you didn’t tell me you were gonna have to mortgage your house to pay for it.”

  “Oh, you always exaggerate,” Scout said dismissively. “Anyway, like I said, it was one of Dad’s favorites. He wouldn’t have wanted it falling into some stranger’s hands.”

  “Scout, it’s been in a stranger’s hands for all these years. And... hell, most of the rest of his stuff is too, isn’t it? I mean, that’s sort of the whole point of what he did, isn’t it? He painted things and then he sold them. And if he hadn’t, you wouldn’t have had the money to buy this one back. In fact, when I think about it, I’m not sure what you just did made any kind of sense.”

  “Oh, sure it did.” Scout nodded. “It’s actually kind of fitting when you think about it. Besides, it’s a nice piece; and now that I own it again, I can probably make the money back on reprints. But you know, Lucy, sentimental value aside, it’s not really one of his more important works. So who knows where it would have ended up if I hadn’t grabbed it.”

  “Well, I don’t know about that. That other guy sure seemed to want it awfully bad.”

  Scout dismissed her competition with a wave of her hand. “Ha, that sucker never had a chance. He didn’t know who he was up against. Like I told you, there was no way I was going home today without that painting.”

  “It’s all your Aunt’s fault, anyway, you know,” Scout added, after a moment. “She’s the one who pointed out that, with all of my relatives dead, my father’s paintings of them are all I have left of my family. Gwen may not have been my stepmother for very long, but she wasn’t the worst of them, either. I did good today, Lucy. We both did. Let’s go find the girls and do something to celebrate. That is, if you’re ready to go?”

  Lucy got to her feet. “Oh, hell yes. And quick, too. Before you see anything else you want.”

  Scout smiled. “Nah, I’m over it now. I’m just sorry I wasn’t able to find anything for Nick. You really don’t think I should try for one of those antique cars they’re offering?”

  Lucy shook her head. “No,” she said, as they crossed the lawn and headed back towards the house. “I really don’t. I think you burned through enough money today. More than enough. And besides, like I said before, do you really think you know what kind of car he wants? Look how he reacted when you got the SUV. And that wasn’t even for him!”

  “Yeah, I suppose you’re right. Your cousin’s a tough man to figure out sometimes.”

  Lucy laughed ruefully. “I got news for you Scout, they all are.”

  Scout shot a curious glance at her friend. Lucy had been unusually moody of late. And Scout hadn’t for one moment believed she’d only been joking the day before, either. “So, do you think Dan is going to be excited about the bees?” she asked, deliberately keeping her tone casual.

  “No, I doubt it,�
� Lucy replied. “He really hasn’t been getting excited about much of anything, lately. No, I take that back. In the last couple of weeks he’s been real excited about the way the kids haven’t been taking care of the dog. And the phone. He’s gotten pretty excited about that, too.” She sighed. “First he claims he can never get through. And then he complains that nobody else should ever answer it—because we don’t do it properly. The rest of the time he just mopes. I don’t know what his problem is, But whatever it is, I wish he’d just figure it out soon and... just get it over with.”

  “But... you don’t really think something’s wrong, do you?”

  Lucy stared off into the distance. “I don’t know, maybe not. Maybe, after seventeen years of marriage, this is just the way things are.”

  “Oh, don’t tell me that!” Scout begged. “I’m just starting out here, you gotta give me something to look forward to.”

  “Yeah, well.” Lucy sighed again. “Sorry about that. But come on, there are the girls now. Who’s that they’re talking to, anyway?”

  Scout recognized a deliberate change of subject when she heard it, but it was clear that Lucy would say no more on the subject – at least for now. “It looks like Bob Jelaski. Or, Father Bob, I guess I should say. I still can’t believe the guy’s a priest. How weird is that?”

  “Well, if you want even more weird, he’s a not half bad priest, either.”

  “If you say so,” Scout said, still trying to reconcile Bob-the-priest with the Bob she remembered from when she was a teenager – as the somewhat nerdy guy who, improbably, had been dating not one, but two of Marsha’s sisters.

  “Hello Lucy, Scout.” The new Bob smiled at them. “The girls were just telling me about the auction.”

  “Did you get the painting?” Kate interrupted to ask.

  Scout smiled at her. “Of course I did.”

  “Well, where is it?” Mandy demanded, impatiently. “Can we see it?”

  “They’re not delivering it for a couple of days,” Scout reminded her. “But I think, if you hurry, you might be able to take a look before they crate it up.”

  “Hey, and hurry back, too!” Lucy called after them, as they ran across the lawn. “We’re ready to leave.” She scowled at Scout. “That was not a bright idea. Who knows how long we’re going to have to stand around in all this mud now, waiting for them. And, I swear, if either of them talks you into buying even one more thing—”

  “So, Lucy,” Bob interrupted smoothly, “I understand you’re taking up a new hobby. You’re going to keep bees now? Is that right?”

  “Yep.” Lucy nodded. Scout was relieved to see her friend looking more cheery than she had all afternoon. “It’s kind of exciting, actually. I’ve got almost everything I need now. And with all that land out at the nursery, we certainly have enough space for it.”

  “Ah, yes.” Bob’s smile brightened. “Indeed. A good and spacious land. A land flowing with milk and honey.”

  “Yeah. Something like that.” Lucy was looking grim again and Scout decided she could also recognize when a change of subject was called for.

  “So, are you here for the auction?” she asked Bob.

  “Oh, no,” he said, as he checked his watch. “As a matter of fact, I have a meeting with Elaine Mannheim, in a few minutes. Grief counseling. This is her parents’ estate that’s being auctioned, you know, and—”

  “Grief counseling? Really?” Lucy frowned at him in doubtful surprise. “They still let you do that stuff?”

  “Uh, yes,” Bob answered, clearing his throat and looking suddenly embarrassed. He checked his watch again. “Yes, I, uh— well, I really should be going. It was nice seeing you both.”

  Scout watched as he hurried away. “Okay, what the hell was that about?”

  Lucy shook her head. “Nothing. I just can’t believe he’s still doing grief counseling. I mean, after the mess he made with Siobhan. You’d think he’d have learned something!”

  “Oh, right.” Scout tried to remember what she’d heard about that. “What happened again?”

  “Well, no one really knows, except the two of them. And they’re not exactly talking about it, as you may have noticed.” Lucy shrugged. “But like I’ve told you, I’m guessing he maybe went a little overboard trying to console the poor widow. Maybe tried to rekindle a few old flames while he was at it? You know the kind of thing I mean.”

  “Yeah? I thought you said he was a good priest?”

  “I didn’t say he was infallible, did I? But he must have done something pretty bad. She wanted to take out a restraining order against him, for heaven’s sake.”

  “You’re kidding me.” Scout stared at her in surprise. She hadn’t heard this part before.

  “Nope.” Lucy shook her head again. “Ask Nick. I think Marsha was the one who finally talked her into dropping it, but for a while there? Let me, tell you, things looking really ugly.”

  Back to Top

  * * * *

  Chapter Nine

  * * * *

  Tuesday morning dawned foggy and cold. Siobhan stood on her porch and surveyed what she could see of the world. It wasn’t much. A dozen variations on the same gray theme, from pearl to pewter; and a damp that sank right into her bones.

  Her eyes tracked the mist as it poured off the roof to pool in the air around her. It may have been a mistake to have waited for this morning’s low tide to collect the rocks she needed for today’s class. The beach would not be a fun place in this weather.

  The rolling motion of the fog drew her eyes downward until a hint of bright color at her feet caught her attention. She focused on it and froze. Her breath seemed to thicken in her lungs as she stared at the pink and yellow plastic pails carelessly piled at the top of the porch steps, still crusted with sand. As though they’d only recently been left there by a couple of children after a day spent playing on the beach.

  The slow, gray vapor swirled around her as she stood there, trying to stem the flood of images that formed in her mind. Trying to tear her eyes from the abandoned toys. Willing herself not to cry. Perhaps, the children would have made sand castles. And dug moats. And offered to bury their mother’s feet.

  Beside her, Selke whined with sudden impatience, wriggling his rump excitedly. A moment later, Siobhan heard it, too. Footsteps along the path. Coming toward her. Coming closer—

  “Who’s there?” she called out, nearly jumping out of her skin when Ryan materialized out of the mist in front of her.

  “Hey, relax. It’s just me. Here.” He thrust one of the two paper cups he was carrying towards her. “I brought you some tea.” He was dressed in a loden-green parka and he looked so solid, so dependable and substantial and safe, she could have cried from relief.

  “Thank you,” she mumbled as she took the tea, grateful for its warmth. She hadn’t realized how cold she was. Her teeth chattered against the plastic lid as she tried to drink it.

  He regarded her curiously above the rim of his own cup. “What’s the matter with you this morning? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  Tea splashed over her hands and down the front of her jacket. “Shit. Don’t say things like that!” she ordered, tightening her grasp on the cup.

  His gaze flicked over her, resting for just an instant on the pile of beach toys, and then returning to her face. “Oh. I bet your daughters used to play with stuff like that, huh?”

  She shrugged and looked away, not wanting to see the pity in his eyes. She cleared her throat. “It was just a surprise, that’s all. Finding them here like that. I wasn’t expecting it, you know?” But her voice wavered a little at the end and he was up the stairs in an instant.

  “Ah, Siobhan, I’m sorry.” His voice was rough with sympathy as he wrapped one warm arm around her shoulders. “But you know, someone probably just found them on the beach last night, and didn’t know where else to leave them. Do you want me to put them away somewhere so you don’t have to look at them?”

  “No, it’s okay.” She shoo
k her head. Pulling herself together, she stepped away from his warmth. “What are you doing here so early?”

  He chuckled softly. “I sneaked a look at your tide schedule yesterday before I left. I figured you’d wait for this morning’s low tide to collect rocks.” He gazed meaningfully at the boots she was wearing. “Looks like I guessed right, huh?”

  She returned his smile. “Yes. About that you did. But not if you were also guessing I’d turn down your help. In weather like this, four eyes are definitely going to be more use than two.”

  “Well, okay then,” he said as he unsnapped his dog’s leash. He pulled a paper bag out of one of his coat’s pockets. “Let me just put this stuff inside, and we’ll go.”

  He stepped inside the center, the two dogs following along behind him. A minute later he was back. He closed the door behind him, and reached for one of the buckets. Siobhan felt like one of them should be saying something, but she could not find a single topic to break the silence.

  “Thanks again for the tea.” she said, finally, as they headed off the porch.

  He smiled at her warmly. “You’re welcome.”

  He was walking easily at her side today, with only the slightest hitch in his gait. He’d gone for acupuncture yesterday and it looked like it was finally beginning to do him some good. But she had to smile, thinking about the expression on his face last evening, as he’d gotten ready to leave for his treatment session. For a tough guy he’d seemed awfully squeamish about the prospect of getting stuck with a few little needles.

  Her smile faded a bit when she considered that it probably wouldn’t be too much longer before his leg was healed enough for him to return to work. She’d had her doubts about him at first, but she had to admit that it had been nice having his help these last few days. He was just about the best assistant she’d ever had – as long as he followed orders and kept his opinions to himself. He’d also turned out to be smart and funny. And a real treat to watch.