by Autumn Skye
The Lonely Artist
By Autumn Skye
Copyright February 2018
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter One
Corrine
If I was good for nothing else, and some agreed that I wasn't, never let it be said that I couldn't throw a hell of a party. This one was in full swing. It was a rented yacht, but I'd occupied it long enough now that I called it my second home. In fact, I'd been cruising the Mediterranean for months. Well, technically, I had a full staff, including a captain. He'd been cruising while I enjoyed myself with my guests, particularly the topless blond seated next to me on the deck. Every day we docked in the Lonian Islands, let passengers off, picked up new ones. I'd made a lot of friends in the two years since I'd left Texas. The party was never over. Only the faces changed, and this blond, did she have a face.
Her luscious full lips turned upward alluringly as I sipped champagne from my glass. I was such a cliché, a spoiled rich girl living it up all over the European continent, but Greece had become my new most beloved place on earth. Good food and breathtakingly beautiful women. Did I mention this one was topless? My eyes roamed over her body, down her flat firm belly to her bikini bottom which was as blue as the sea we sailed on, my favorite color.
She was also an American, a stockbroker’s daughter from New York. I couldn't be sure exactly who had invited her on board, but I was glad she'd come. I had a strong urge to ask her to spend some time with me below deck in my room and I absolutely planned to very soon. In fact, I would have gotten around to it much sooner if we hadn't been in an area where my cell phone worked just fine. The signal was hit and miss on the water. It was sitting on the deck beside my lounge chair and the second it started to ring I knew it was Ryan. It was always Ryan. Who else? He was the only friend I had left in the states.
Only, Ryan wasn't in the states right then. He was in Greece attending an auction. We'd met for dinner a few times in the last week, but he'd declined my offer for him to join my cruise.
“Hello.”
“Hey, Corrine, how are you holding up?”
I gave the blond a sideways glance and she attempted to keep my attention my running her fingers over her nipples until they puckered before my eyes. We were surrounded by over twenty other sun bathers. She sure wasn’t shy.
“At the moment, I'm doing quite well. I'm a little busy, though. Can I call you back?”
“Corrine, come on, ignoring this mess won't make it go away. It's time for you to go home and deal with it.”
“I’ve dealt with it. I fired the bastard, Ryan.”
“And who is running the gallery. Do you even know?”
“Yes, that would be a Ms. Katrina Wells. She's covering the bases until I hire Greyson's replacement, but you no doubt know that. Are you testing me?”
“Yes, I am. When are you going to get around to finding Mr. Greyson's replacement?”
“You're going back next week. Could you do me a favor and interview a few candidates?”
“That's your job, kid. I don't work for you.”
“It would be a favor.”
“No, you can't run from this Corrine. It's all over the media.”
“I know. Why do you think I don't want to go back?”
“It isn't always a matter of what you want, Corrine. You owe it to your father.”
I sighed. I couldn't deny his point. My father's memory deserved so much better than me. “I know I do.”
“Then you'll come home?”
“Are you giving me a choice?”
“You always have a choice., hon. You could sell or come home only long enough to find Greyson's replacement and do some damage control, then take off again, though I hope you'll stick around for a while. I've missed you.”
“Miss you, too,” I said. “How bad is it? I don't mean the money. I know the details. I mean the damage control. How big of a dent do you think the gallery’s public image took?”
“It's nothing compared to how bad it will be if you don't get your ass back to Texas in the next few days. You're being absent for all this time already looks bad. Don't make it worse. If you do decide to sell, you don't want to have to take a loss.”
“I'm not selling.”
“Well, then, all the more reason to get home. It's your business on the line, and your father's name.”
“Okay, okay, I'm coming.”
“Any idea at all on who you want to replace Greyson?” he pressed.
“Maybe I'll take a shot at it myself, at least until things calm down a bit.”
“Wow, you almost sound committed, Corrine.”
“You know, I am qualified, Ryan.”
“That isn't in question. It's whether or not your heart is in it that I'm wondering about.” he retorted.
“If that mattered you wouldn't be asking me to do this.”
“That's not true. I'm just trying to help. Grief is normal, but you've been gone too long. If you let the gallery crash and burn, you'll regret it later. If you're not going to sell it, you'll have to run it. People need to see a McDowan at the wheel.”
“You're right. Of course, you are. I promise I'll be back in Texas by the end of next week, deal? In the meantime, could you at least investigate what went wrong?”
“I'm already on it. I have an investigator meeting with Katrina Wells tomorrow morning.”
“Thanks.”
“You're doing the right thing for your father. Someday, you'll have to get around to figuring out what's best for you.”
“I was doing all right just now until you called.”
“Blond or brunette?”
“I'd tell you, but it's so much more fun to leave you guessing,” I said before hanging up and turning back to the pretty woman who was trying so hard to tempt me.
She moved onto her side and kissed me softly on the lips, giving me a taste of her cinnamon gloss.
“I'd like to get to know you better. Would you like to see my cabin?”
She nodded, silently promising to make me forget all about that phone call. Of course, that was a promise she couldn't keep, but I was willing to let her try, or I would have been if I hadn't taken a closer look into her eyes and seen the gleam there. It was greedy, and hollow, and promised nothing more than one more empty night. All that was usually fine with me. It was normally what I was looking for in a lover, but not just then. I couldn’t deny that Ryan had a point. I had to get my act together. I had to grow up, or pretend to until this latest fiasco passed. Me behaving like a responsible adult was a frightening concept and it was enough to put a damper on my mood, no matter how luscious my blond of the moment was.
“You know, on second thought, I'm not feeling well. Too much sun, I think. I should go lie down. Maybe later?” That's when it hit me. I'd already invited her to my room and I didn't know her name. That said so much more about me than I cared to admit.
“Sure, anytime, Corrine,” she said.
Naturally, she would know my name. I was living in the public eye, running around Europe acting ten years younger than I was. Yes, indeed, Ryan was right. It was time to go home and face whatever awaited me there. Who could say what that might be? It had been a very long two years.
***
My flight landed at the Dallas Fort Worth airport with
out delay. It was rare that I'd ever taken an overseas flight without the smallest glitch, but there I was, standing in my home at 1:15 on a Sunday afternoon, searching for my limo driver holding a sign with my name on it. Normally, I'd have had Ryan pick me up, but I'd beaten him home. He wasn't due back from Greece until Tuesday. He had, however, hired an investigator to look into Greyson's dealings at the gallery and from what I understood, the entire staff would be grilled bright and early the next morning. I'd completely neglected any hands-on involvement in the running of the gallery since my father's passing, so I didn't have a clue as to who to fire, or keep, or promote, and I wouldn't until I spoke with the investigator. Someone had to hash out this mess and God help anyone who was relying on me to do it. The people waiting to hear if they're jobs were safe would have probably said the same thing.
I eventually found my driver and made my way home, to the house in Plano where I'd grown up behind iron gates and walls. I'd been away so long, it didn't feel like home, if it ever had. It had a certain cozy appeal, I supposed. Ivory flourished up the sides of the two-story house and busches of every color rose that existed lined the driveway all the up to the roundabout that stopped at the front walkway. Any other person would have thought it was a fine and privileged place to have grown up and they'd be right. There was nothing wrong with the house, other than it was too quiet and too lonely for one person to fill. If I hadn't left when I did, I'd be that lady with the seventeen cats by now and I just couldn't let that be me.
Mrs. Keller had been the main housekeeper since I could remember. She must have been waiting for the car to pull up because she opened the door before I put a foot on the bottom step of the stone porch.
“Oh, Ms. McDowan, it's so good to see you. How was your trip?” she asked as if I'd been gone weeks instead of years.
“Refreshing.” That wasn't quite true. I felt hungover, like I'd been to a party that had lasted way too long, which I, in fact, had. “How have things been here?”
“We've missed you.”
Aside from Mrs. Keller, the staff came and went. I doubted I'd ever met any of the ones currently working under her charge. It was nice of her to try and make me feel like my absence had disrupted the harmony somehow, though. I glanced around the living area and saw that everything was exactly as I'd left it, immaculately kept, sterile and hardly lived in.
“The flight was long. I'm going up to my room to take a nap. Have my dinner ready and wake me around five?”
“Yes, mam, anything else?”
“No, that should do.”
In my room, I called Ryan. “I'm home.”
“Well, that's a start.”
“I've been rethinking what you said about selling the gallery.”
“It is a viable option.”
“Not right this minute, but sometime in the near future, maybe. I just can't shake the feeling I'd be letting a lot of people down, including my father.”
“I knew Caleb for thirty-five years. I know what he'd say.”
“Do what makes me happy,” I said.
“Yes, that's what he did. He never intended to instill in you his own life ambitions. He wanted you to find your own, Corrine.”
“I'll work on that. In the meantime, I'm still the sole owner of the gallery, so I do have to take care of business.”
“Does that mean you'll be in the office tomorrow?”
“The day after. I'm jet lagged.”
“Let me guess, you're idea of a cure is to go clubbing?”
“Believe it or not, I'm going to spend a quiet evening at home.”
“No companion?”
“I've lost touch with most of my old crowd. I'd have to go clubbing to find one. Another thing you might find hard to believe is that I've had my fill of one night stands for a while. They're exhausting. They always want to chat and get to know me first.”
“That must be hell for you,” he said with a laugh.
“I haven't found one yet more interested in me than my money. That's what they really want to talk about.”
“That's because you've been looking for love in all the wrong places.”
“I'm not looking for love, period. The last affair I had landed me in the gossip tabloids. It also broke my heart.”
“I know, sweetie, but sooner or later you're going to have to try again.”
“Not tonight, that's for sure.”
“No, you take the night off. I'll call you tomorrow and let you know what, if anything, that investigator I hired digs up on the Greyson deal.”
“Thanks. Definitely keep me posted so I know what I'm dealing with before I go into the office.”
“I'm on it.”
I hung up with a heavy sigh, wishing I hadn't brought up Sharise. It had been over a year since she'd crossed my mind and over two since I'd last seen her. I'd had a lot of reasons to run away and she was a big one, but I’d learned the hard way that if it were possible to run away from memories, they wouldn't be memories at all.
Chapter Two
Katrina
“I'm not here to accuse you of anything. I just need you to tell me anything you can that will shed some light on what happened.”
“Honestly, Mr. Carpenter, I don't much about how Mr. Greyson conducted his business. I only assisted him, which means I only know what he thought I should know, and that's not much,” I said, giving the stern man sitting across from my desk an earnest look. In return, he gave me one that suggested he didn't believe a word I was saying. So much for this not being an interrogation.
“Is there any chance Mr. Greyson was getting a kickback under the table for passing the work in question off as legitimate. If so, that could warrant a criminal investigation, so it's best to be upfront with me from the start. I've been hired by a close business associate of Ms. Corrine McDowan's to get to the bottom of this incident, and if I can't then the police might have to get involved. It would go easier for you if you divulged any part you played now, however unintentionally.”
“Do I need an attorney?”
“Not if you're truthful with me.”
“Then here's the truth. I was an unemployed loser living off my overly generous roommate when I took this job six months ago. Since then I've been a glorified loser with a title that says I'm the assistant director of this gallery. It sounds fancy, but in reality, it doesn't mean shit and I'm sure I'll be stripped off that meaningless title the minute Corrine McDowan shows up. I understand she's back in town and should be making an appearance here tomorrow.”
“Do you expect me to believe you had nothing to do with McDowan losing three million dollars, either directly or unintentionally?”
“No, sir, I don't expect you to take my word for it, but it's the truth.”
“Or, it's a story you've stupidly decided to stick to. I'm sure women in prison have stories, too,” he mused aloud.
“Threaten me all you like. I don't know anything about Mr. Greyson's dealings. I can't help you,” I retorted, desperately hoping he didn't detect the tremor of fear in my voice, but fairly certain he did. He was trained to pick up on things like that and I wasn't very good at hiding my panic. I'd probably break down and cry like a baby if he didn't get his smug ass out of my office soon.
“Please, Mr. Carpenter, if that's all, I have work to do.”
“I'll be in touch,” he said, rising to his feet.
At least the sonofabitch didn't tell me not to leave town, I thought as he made his exit. Not that I had anywhere to go. This job was all I had, and I was probably only going to hold onto it for another twenty-four hours or so. Corrine McDowan would waltz in here bright and early tomorrow morning and toss me out onto the street.
***
I was more than a little nervous as I sat at my desk that next morning, wondering if I’d be packing up my things before the end of the day. I’d only just gotten the job as an exhibit manager for the McDowan gallery a few months ago and now my career might be over before it had even begun. The owner, Corrine McDowan,
was apparently not happy with how her gallery was being operated by the director she’d recently appointed. I couldn’t say I blamed her. The director had also acted as a curator and had authenticated an Egyptian artifact last week. It had turned out to be a very good fake, but that hadn’t come to light until after Ms. McDowan had paid over three million dollars for it. Now that Ms. McDowan was coming home, she'd clean house, fire the entire staff and hire new blood. That could be good or bad for me. I wasn’t sure which yet. I technically was new blood, so instead of frantically updating my resume to submit to other galleries, I submitted it to Ms. McDowan in hopes of getting the director’s position. I had a degree in art history and had completed a successful internship as curator at another gallery in the city of Austin, so I thought there might be a slim chance this could all work out well for me.
Now that it was time for my interview, however, I wasn’t so sure. In the entire time I’d been at the gallery, Ms. McDowan had never once come into her office, but now she’d decided to take a more involved approach and interview her employees herself. I supposed she had to with the director already out the door. I’d been working on my own, unsupervised for the last week, taking most of his duties on myself. The gallery hadn’t suffered, so maybe, just maybe, she’d not only keep me on, but promote me. There were only so many galleries and museums in town and unemployment didn’t pay all that well, so I had my fingers crossed, especially since I'd submitted my resume before I'd gotten that visit from Ms. McDowan's private investigator. He'd made my prospects look not nearly so promising. As for Corrine McDowan, I had no idea what to expect. For all I knew, she might be a total hard ass, not that you'd know it from anything I'd manage to dig up on her online. In fact, I was staring aimlessly at photo images of her splashed across my computer screen at that very moment and I wasn't sure what to make of her. She didn't look like a force to be reckoned with, at least not the likes of which I'd ever seen. She did look-well-hot, however, like a model, or a well styled, spoiled heiress. Whichever, she was one of the prettiest women I'd ever laid eyes on in my life.
She wore a bikini in most of the pictures and in the majority of them she was surrounded by beautiful young women, not a man in sight, which I found interesting. There was nothing on the internet concerning her personal relationships, but if I had to guess from some of her more provocative poses, she loved women, lots and lots of women. She hadn't been photographed with the same one twice, so I gathered she liked to play. Naturally she did. A woman of her status had probably never heard the word no. She was quite the catch, so if she didn't want to limit herself to one lover it was understandable. I myself hadn't had a lover since I'd graduated college. I couldn't relate to being in that position, but I could dream, and in my dreams maybe I'd play the field, too. In my dreams. In real life, I could barely introduce myself to a woman without stuttering all over the place. No one had ever accused me of having a lot of game.
