CHAPTER TEN
Nikki Monroe blew into the old Victorian house with the force of a hurricane, hugging and kissing and talking at gale speed.
“It’s a shame she’s so lacking in personality,” Des joked as Nikki flung herself onto Barney.
“So shy and awkward. Pity,” Cara agreed.
“Aunt Des!” Nikki’s arms were filled with a wiggling fluffy white mass of dog, but she tried to hug Des anyway.
“Nikki, we are beyond delighted that you’re here.” Des wrapped both arms around her niece and Buttons licked both their faces at the same time.
“Me, too! I’m so excited for this summer. I just couldn’t wait until school was over. Of course, then I had to go visit with my grandparents, but that was fun because I got to shop with Gramma and go to the pool at their complex.” The dog squirmed and Nikki put her on the floor.
It always fascinated Des that Nikki barely seemed to take a breath.
“They live in this place with other old—” She glanced apologetically at Barney. “Ah . . . senior people, like retired people? They have a beautiful pool, but there was hardly anyone in it while I was there, so I got to practice my strokes every day. One of Grampa’s cousins died and they wanted to go back to Indiana for the funeral, so they let me come here a little early.”
Nikki hugged the dog again. “Buttons, I’ve missed you, too.” The dog resumed licking her face again, and Nikki laughed. “See, Aunt Barney, she remembers me. She missed me.”
“Of course she remembers you,” Barney assured her.
Des watched Allie’s eyes as Allie watched Nikki. As annoying as her sister could be at times, Des knew Allie would do anything for her daughter, that she loved her as purely and as deeply as she could ever love anyone. The resemblance between mother and daughter was so strong that when Des looked at Nikki, she could almost believe she was looking at Allie at fourteen. Nikki was slightly taller than Allie had been, but they shared the same long, straight blond hair, startling bright blue eyes, long legs, perfectly proportioned body, and angelic face. What set Nikki apart was the fact that she lacked the bitterness her mother had carried with her even as a young girl. Nikki’s smiles could light up the room, and her positive energy flowed around her like a magic cloak. She happily shared her sunshine with everyone who came into her orbit.
Des thought the boys at her school must think she’s a goddess. And they’d be right.
“I can’t wait to see what’s happening at the theater. Tell me again about the ceiling. Is it fixed yet?” Nikki chatted on as she picked up her carry-on bag. “The airline couldn’t find my big suitcase. The one with all my new stuff in it.” She rolled her eyes. “They said they’d bring it out as soon as they located it. Probably sent it back to L.A. I want to put this stuff in my room. Can we have dinner early? I’m starving.” She started up the steps, pausing only to plant a kiss on her mother’s cheek before continuing toward the second floor. “They only had these little bags of pretzels on the plane, and ugh. Carbs. Aunt Cara, could you make granola for breakfast tomorrow?”
She disappeared at the top of the steps, still chatting happily, and the four adults she’d left in her wake laughed softly.
“Welcome back, Nik.” Barney beamed. “Oh, how we’ve missed you.”
Des realized Allie hadn’t moved from her spot on the step.
“You okay?” she asked.
Allie nodded slowly. “She’s . . . she’s everything.”
“Yes,” Des agreed. “She certainly is.”
In honor of their California girl, they had chicken and avocado quesadillas for dinner and a large pitcher of Barney’s lemonade, which Nikki had declared her favorite drink ever.
“Wow, the kitchen looks so beautiful! I love the new cushion on the window seat! But the ivy’s gone. I kinda liked it. But the all white is so clean and pretty, and the cabinets look awesome. Courtney’s mom watches HGTV all the time. She’d love this. And oh! I almost forgot to tell you!” Nikki had slapped her forehead, a touch of drama for emphasis. “I wrote this essay for English class about the theater? It was about how my great-great . . .” She paused and looked at Barney. “How many greats for the one who built the theater?”
“I believe for you it’s three,” Barney said.
“Well, how he owned all these coal mines and how he built the theater and how when the Depression came he showed movies and had plays there and let everyone in town come for free.” Nikki flashed a pleased smile. “My teacher entered it in the county writing competition, and guess who won first prize? This girl.” She pointed to herself with her thumb.
Amid the “Yay, Nikki” and the “Way to go, Nik,” the doorbell rang.
“I’ll get it!” Nikki jumped up and ran to the hall, Buttons in pursuit, before anyone else had a chance to budge.
“You’d think she was expecting someone,” Allie commented. She’d joined them for dinner but had merely picked, her stomach still in a state of flux.
Nikki’s happy chatter could be heard coming toward the kitchen, and a moment later, she walked in with Tom.
“. . . so I’m here for the summer,” Nikki was telling him. “I just got here today.”
“So I heard.” Tom could not contain a smile.
Nikki’s joy had apparently rubbed off on him immediately.
“Sorry to interrupt your dinner,” he said. “I just wanted to drop off something to Bonnie.”
“We were just finishing up. Can we give you something cold to drink?” Barney got up. “What’s that you’re bringing me?”
“You mentioned you were still in the garden club, so I thought you might be interested in some of my mother’s old files. She was the first recording secretary of the group, and she kept a lot of notes.”
“Oh, I’m sure the club would love to have those.”
Tom handed the file to Barney, while behind him, Nikki held up her hands, her fingers forming the shape of a heart, obviously implying that Tom and Barney had something romantic going.
Everyone tried with mixed success to ignore her.
“Let’s go into the other room and see what’s in here.” Barney held the file in her left hand, and as she and Tom left the room, she made a lighthearted swat at Nikki’s behind, murmuring, “You little minx” as she did so.
“Aunt Barney has a boyfriend?” a wide-eyed Nikki whispered as the pair left the room. “And he called her Bonnie. Why’d he do that?”
“He grew up in the house across the street, so they’ve known each other for years. He thinks Bonnie suits her better than Barney,” Allie explained. “He’s been away for a long time, but he’s here to clean out his parents’ house so it can be sold.”
“So he’ll be around for a while?” Nikki asked.
“At least for the next month or two, I would guess.”
“Sweet.”
The doorbell rang again, and Nikki dashed back down the hall, Buttons chasing her, barking all the way.
“For a house that rarely sees visitors after six p.m., there seems to be a lot of activity tonight.” Allie rose. “I wonder who that is.”
They’d expected Nikki to return to the kitchen, but minutes passed as Cara and Allie cleared the table and Des rinsed off the dishes and stacked them in the dishwasher. When they heard Nikki coming back down the hall, they heard a second set of footsteps.
“Mom, look who’s here.” Nikki came into the room, a tall, dark-haired boy around her age at her side. “You remember Mark.”
“Mark?” Allie frowned. She obviously had no recollection of Mark. Des could almost hear the questions swirling inside her sister’s head: Who was he, and how did he know her daughter was there?
“Remember when I was here back in April we went to that gun club where they were playing bluegrass music? I met a bunch of kids and we got to hang out for a little bit?” Nikki was obviously trying to jog her mother’s memory, but Allie’s expression gave no indication she had any recollection of Nikki meeting a boy—or anyone else—that night.
“Oh, of course,” Des said. “You’re Seth’s cousin’s son, right?”
“Right. My mom’s his cousin Roseanne,” Mark said, grateful that someone remembered him and had spoken up to break the ice.
Nikki looked up at the handsome young man with obvious stars in her eyes.
Des caught the look on Allie’s face.
Uh-oh.
Silence filled the room.
Cara jumped in to kill the awkward moment. “So do you live in Hidden Falls, Mark?”
“Yes. Over on Third Street. Across from the old church.”
“Are you working this summer?” Des asked.
“I’m helping Uncle Seth out on his farm. He’s not really my uncle, but we all call him that, so . . .” Mark shrugged.
“It’s a beautiful farm. If you like being outdoors, you should have a good summer,” Des said.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Let’s get lemonade and go sit on the porch.” Nikki had apparently been quiet long enough. She filled two glasses with ice, then poured in lemonade and handed one to Mark. “My aunt Barney makes the best. I’m going to drink it all summer. Let’s go outside.”
Mark nodded a sort of see you to the sisters, then followed Nikki.
“She didn’t tell me about him.” Allie’s face was rigid. “I had no idea there was a guy . . .” She turned to Des and Cara. “Did you see the way he was looking at her?” Allie almost screeched. “Puppy dog eyes.”
“Of course he looks at her that way. What teenage boy wouldn’t fall all over her? She’s gorgeous and fun and funny and smart and lively and—”
“I know my daughter’s attributes, thank you.” Allie sat on the window seat. “She’s too young to have guys ‘falling all over her.’ ”
“She’s almost fifteen, Allie,” Des pointed out.
“I am aware of her age, Des,” Allie snapped. “And she’s still only fourteen. How old do you think he was? Eighteen?”
“He’s the same age as she is,” Des told her.
“How would you know?”
“Seth told me last night.”
“There’s a story we still have yet to hear,” Cara reminded her. “Where did you guys go? What’s going on with you two?”
Before Des could respond, Allie said, “Could we keep this conversation on track, please? My daughter hasn’t been here for four hours and some strange boy shows up looking for her? How does that happen?”
“Not by accident. Seth said they’ve been keeping up with each other on social media and that Mark knew Nikki would be coming today instead of Wednesday.”
“Well, isn’t that special. She could have mentioned it to me.”
“It’s not a big deal, Allie. He’s a good kid, and—”
“How do you know he’s a good kid? Because Seth said so?”
“Seth did say so, and I believe him. Allie, you act like the guy came in here with punk green hair smoking a joint and grabbing her butt.”
“Just because he didn’t doesn’t mean I trust him with my daughter.”
“Then trust her just a little. Trust her judgment. Sooner or later, you’re going to have to.”
Des leaned on the back of the chair next to the window seat where Allie sat and touched her sister’s hand.
Allie shook her head. “She’s so young.”
“She has to start to grow up sometime, Al. Be happy it’s here, where you are, and now, when she’s surrounded by people who would fall on the sword for her. You’ve given Nik all the tools. Trust her. You have no reason not to.”
Allie looked at Des with sad eyes and sighed loudly. For a moment, Des was afraid she was going to begin to wail.
“I’m not ready for her to have a boyfriend.”
“None of us are. But just be grateful the boy she seems to have her eye on is not that green-haired, pot-smoking, butt-grabbing—”
“Okay, okay, I get it.” Allie wadded up a napkin and threw it in Des’s direction.
To Allie’s mind, Mark had stayed too long, and Nikki spent too much time on the front porch with him in the dark. She had gone out once under the guise of offering more lemonade, and while she was there, she turned on the porch lights. She debated whether to watch TV with Des and Cara—which would give her cover while she waited for Nikki to come inside. Or she could go upstairs and go to bed.
Like that was going to happen with her fourteen-year-old daughter out on the front porch with a boy.
Allie excused herself from the kitchen and went up the back steps to her room. She gathered up towels that had been left on the floor after she got out of the shower, and a glass that had fallen onto the floor from the nightstand. She folded the throw that belonged on the chair and changed the sheets. She disposed of several empty vodka bottles and opened both windows, hoping to dispel the stuffy, slightly rank odor that hung in the air. There was just enough cross-ventilation that the breeze swept the staleness aside.
She bundled up her trash and took it downstairs to the large can, then went back upstairs to wait for her daughter.
“Mom? You awake?” Nikki rapped softly on Allie’s door not long after.
“Come on in.”
“What are you doing in here by yourself? Everyone’s downstairs binge-watching season one of The Blacklist.”
“Just a little tired tonight, that’s all.”
Nikki took out her phone and sat on the bed next to her mother. “I have pictures to show you. Here’s the spring dance Courtney and I went to.”
She held up the screen. Nikki and Courtney stood with their arms around each other, in dresses of similar style though different colors.
“You texted me that one. I remember asking about the dress because I didn’t recognize it.” Allie forced a smile. “You mentioned that Courtney’s mother took you both shopping for dresses.” She watched Nikki’s face for a sign that she knew that her best friend’s mother and her father were an item, but she saw nothing there.
“Right. This one—” Nikki swiped the screen. “This is from our class trip to Sacramento to the capitol building.”
Nikki had a seemingly endless stream of photos, and she showed Allie every one, sharing the highlights of her life since she’d returned to California after having spent spring break in Hidden Falls.
Nikki moved from the side of the bed to the chair, presumably to respond to a text. The toe of her foot hit the bag Allie had tucked away.
“Oh, sorry, Mom.” Nikki bent down to grab the bag, but when she picked it up, it was sideways, and several of the tracings fell out. “Mom, what’s this stuff?”
She held up Allie’s tracings.
“So pretty.” Nikki stared at them for a moment. “These look like the ceiling in the theater.”
“They are, sort of.” Allie reached for the bag but Nikki held on to it.
“Why do you have them?” Nikki took the rest of the tracings from the bag and looked them over.
“I had an idea about filling in the missing places on the designs, but in retrospect, it wasn’t a very good idea.” She reached again for the bag but Nikki ignored her.
“Did you make these?”
“Not freehand, but yes, I traced them. Like I said, it was a half-baked idea.”
“What was your idea?”
“Not a very good one. I scrapped it, so there’s no point in talking about it. Nik, put everything back in the bag and I’ll toss them. I meant to do that yesterday, but I forgot.”
“Can I have them?”
Allie laughed. “Why would you want them?”
“Because they’re pretty. I bet if these were painted like the ceiling, they’d look exactly like it.”
“Doubtful. Give ’em the old heave-ho.” Allie held out the wastepaper basket.
“No. You don’t want them, they’re mine now.” Nikki yawned. “I’m going to bed. I just wanted to come in and tell you how much I missed you and how happy I am to be here with you and everyone.”
“Everyone including Mark?”
“Sure. He’s the coolest guy.”
“What makes him cool?” Allie asked.
She seemed to ponder that for a moment. “He doesn’t try to be cool. He’s just himself. He’s not pushy or mean or anything. He’s just nice. We texted a lot when I was home. He has interesting ideas, and when we talk about things, he always asks me what I think. Courtney thinks he’s—” She stopped and looked away.
“Courtney thinks he’s what?”
“She thinks he’s corny and geeky because he studies and he’s crazy smart and ’cause he doesn’t smoke . . . anything. She thinks that makes him uncool, but I think it’s just the opposite. It’s like he knows he doesn’t have to be like everyone else. He’s okay being who he is.”
“What’s Courtney doing this summer?”
Nikki half shrugged but didn’t reply.
“Isn’t she your best friend?”
“Not so much anymore.” Nikki yawned again. “I’m going to bed, Mom. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“How ’bout I come and tuck you in?”
Nikki rolled her eyes. “I’m almost fifteen. I tuck myself in these days.” She kissed her mother, and Allie hugged her long and hard before kissing the side of her face.
“Sweet dreams, baby.”
“You, too, Mom. See you in the morning.”
Nikki padded out of the room on bare feet. Allie heard the occasional squeak of a floorboard as her daughter made her way to her room down the hall and around the corner.
Allie picked up the one tracing that had fallen under the chair and placed it on the bedside table, wondering what was going on between Courtney and Nikki, who’d been best friends since before Nikki moved into Clint’s house to be closer to the tony private school he’d enrolled her in before even checking with Allie. The girls would either make up or they wouldn’t. Allie had never been all that fond of Courtney, though she’d never told her daughter, since she knew one of the golden rules of parenthood was to never express strong dislike for your child’s friends. To Allie, Courtney had always seemed to lean a little too far into mean-girl territory. She’d heard Courtney talk about other girls when they weren’t around. She’d once asked Nikki how she’d feel if she found out that Courtney said such things about her behind her back. Predictably, Nikki had been insulted.
“Mom, she’s my best friend. She wouldn’t talk about me.”
“I bet those other girls think she’s their friend, too.”
“Mom. Stop.”
Allie had dropped it, but she never did warm to the girl.
Well, not her problem. Nikki was three thousand miles from Courtney and Courtney’s mother. Of course, Nik was only a few blocks away from a boy who had puppy eyes when he looked at her. Allie got into bed and turned off the light, not quite sure who—Courtney or Mark—posed the greater danger to her girl’s heart.
The following afternoon, all five Hudson women sat in the kitchen, eating breakfast and enjoying the chatter. Times like this, when they were all together, made this house, these women, this place, feel like home.
“I need a job,” Nikki announced. “All of my friends have summer jobs. I should pull my own weight.”
“What kind of a job are you thinking about?” Des asked.
“I don’t know. What’s around here?”
“Well, I don’t know about Hidden Falls in general, but I do know of someone who’s writing a book who needs an assistant.” Des winked at Barney.
“Aunt Des, that would be perfect for me.” Nikki put down her spoon, her eyes shining. “I’m a really good writer.”
“I believe the job your aunt Des has in mind would be more of a research position to start with, am I correct, Des?” Barney asked.
“You are.”
“I can do that. I’m really good at looking stuff up.” Nikki was definitely getting into the idea.
“Not so much looking stuff up but more like searching for source material,” Barney said, amending her comment.
“OMG, even better! Like being a detective, right?” Nikki added confidently, “I’ve never lost at Clue.”
“Well, those are certainly skills one would need.” Barney’s smile went all the way to her eyes.
“Where do I apply? Who’s the writer?”
“Me,” Barney told her. “I’m writing a book about the theater, and I need help locating photographs and putting together stories from people in town who were there when it opened. There aren’t too many of those folks left, but I know who they are and where to find them.”
“What would I have to do?” Nikki was all ears.
“You’d be interviewing them, asking them to share their photos and their stories, their memories. I’ve tracked down a dozen or so of them but I know there are more. Think you’re up to talking to a lot of old folks about old times? Even folks older than me?” Barney asked.
“Oh yes, I’d love that. Think of all the stories I could hear.” Nikki looked off into space as if she were imagining exactly that. “But it doesn’t sound like a full-time job.”
“I think it could be as part-time or as full-time as you make it. You in?”
Nikki nodded. “I’m in. I promise I’ll do a great job. When do I start, Aunt Barney?”
“Tomorrow, if you like. Today’s your first day back, so we’ll relax. But we’ll put you to work first thing tomorrow. I’ll show you some boxes of old photos I’d like you to go through and pull out any you think are connected to the theater. Then we’ll try to identify some of the people in the photos, see if they’re still around, and if so, ask if they’d like to talk about their memories.”
“Piece of cake,” Nikki said confidently. “Will I be paid for this?”
“I was thinking of this as more of an intern-type position, but we can negotiate.”
Des had watched the exchange with amusement. Nikki’s enthusiasm for everything she did was infectious.
“And when you’re done helping Barney, you can come to the theater and catalog the old films and movie posters,” Des suggested. “We’re going to want to sell some of them.”
“You already did get some bids on those posters for those old horror films from the dealer in Las Vegas,” Cara reminded her.
“Not enough. I’m going to negotiate a steeper price. I could tell he was interested when I spoke with him on the phone this morning, but I think he was lowballing me to see if I had any idea what they’re really worth. I turned him down, but he’ll be back.”
“What horror movies?” Nikki asked.
“Frankenstein and Dracula. The original ones,” Des told her.
“OMG, really? Vampires are so hot now, right?” Nikki’s eyes widened. “If you had the films, you could do a spooky movie night on Halloween.”
“That’s actually a good idea,” Barney said.
“We might have the films. There are so many of those metal canisters around, I never did get to look at all of them,” Des said.
“I will put that on my list of things to do.” Nikki took out her phone and made a note. “I’m totally into this. The theater is part of my DNA, right? And besides, I like to act. I had a role in my eighth-grade play, remember, Mom?”
“I do, indeed.” Allie looked up from her coffee. “Auntie Em in The Wizard of Oz.”
“It really would have been nice if we’d been able to do some summer stage at the Sugarhouse this year, but with the scaffold up, there’s no way we could risk the liability,” Des said.
“Why’s there a scaffold?” Nikki asked.
“Because someone is going to have to go up to the ceiling and make the repairs,” Cara told her. “We do have someone who’s going to start fixing the plaster next week, but we’re still looking for an artist.”
Nikki looked across the table to her mother.
“Didn’t you show them?” Nikki asked.
“Nikki—” Allie tried to wave her off.
“My mom did the most amazing thing. She has these tracings of the ceiling patterns that she made so she could use them to complete the missing pieces of the designs.” Nikki turned to her mother. “That’s what you meant, right?”
“Nik, you haven’t even seen the ceiling. You don’t know how complicated it could be.” Allie rose and went to the sink, turning her back on the others.
“I don’t know that it’s all that complicated after all,” Des said. If she was ever going to give Allie the credit she deserved, it was now. “I saw the tracings Allie did. The idea is really out of the box, but I think it could work. It’s definitely worth trying.”
“Des, you don’t have to—”
“Where are the tracings you made?” Des asked.
“I have them.” Nikki jumped from her seat and flew up the back steps.
“You didn’t tell us you were working on a solution,” Cara said. “Why didn’t you say something?”
“She did say something.” Des spoke before Allie could make an excuse. “She said something to me, and I blew her off without thinking it through. I insulted her and I made her feel like it was a stupid idea because I was upset about something else. But it’s the best chance we have right now, and Allie, I’m sorry I shot you down without even giving it fair consideration.”
“It’s okay, Des. I told you, it’s not a big deal. I’m over it.”
“Here, look at what Mom did.” Nikki laid the tracings out on the table, then she took out her phone. “Look, this is a picture I took of the ceiling when I was here before.” She enlarged the detailing as best she could, but it was distorted.
“We have better photos.” Des took off for the office. When she returned to the kitchen, she had Seth’s photos in her hand. “Seth took some close-up shots. Here’s one of the missing sections, and here’s one of an area that was not affected by the leak.”
“Aunt Cara, see how much Mom’s look like the photos?” Nikki hung over Cara’s shoulder.
Cara picked up several of the tracings and compared them to the photos.
“You know, Des is right. This could work.” Cara tossed the photos onto the table. “I say Allie should see what she can do.”
“Mom’s a really good artist,” Nikki told them. “She painted a mural in my room when I was little. It was a forest, and she painted all the little animals in it, but they were sort of hidden among the leaves and the flowers so they were camouflaged. So if you looked at it from one direction, you could see the animals. If you looked at it from a different place in the room, they were hidden. It was the coolest thing in the world. I used to fall asleep pretending I was in that forest with all my little animal friends. It was the best. Here, look. I have a picture.” She scrolled through the photos on her phone again.
“You have a picture of your old bedroom wall in your phone?” Allie asked, obviously touched.
“I do. I look at it sometimes when I feel homesick for my old house and my old room.”
“Honey, you didn’t tell me you felt homesick.”
“It’s just sometimes, Mom.” Nikki smiled. “It’s okay. My room at Dad’s is more grown-up. Sometimes I just like to pretend I’m back with my animals.”
Des suspected Allie wasn’t the only one with a lump in her throat.
“Wow. You did that freehand?” Cara stared at the image on the screen, and Allie nodded.
“Then making some stencils and following a pattern should be easy peasy for you. When do you want to start?” Cara handed the tracings and the photos to Barney, who studied them carefully.
Barney handed the tracings back to Nikki, but her eyes kept returning to the photos. Her fingers tapped on the table.
“What are you thinking?” Des asked, having noticed Barney’s continued scrutiny of the photos.
“There’s something about the colors. I don’t know what I’m missing.” She threw up her hands and seemed to dismiss whatever thought she’d had.
After breakfast, everyone went their own way. En route from the kitchen to the front hall, Des passed the dining room but was derailed by the scent of peonies. She went into the room and leaned into the vase that stood in the center of the table, inhaling deeply. These were the flowers Cara’d picked a few days earlier.
“What are you doing in here?” Allie stood in the doorway.
Des turned so Allie could see the vase.
“Oh, we should bring them into the parlor instead of leaving them here in a room where no one ever goes and Barney refuses to use.”
“It’s because of the mural.” Des pointed to the wall, where the artist husband of a distant aunt had painted a scene of the waterfall that gave the town its name. The same waterfall where Barney’s fiancé had fallen to his death. “I don’t blame Barney for not wanting to look at it every day. It certainly doesn’t hold a pleasant memory.”
Allie had pulled the vase close and buried her face in the flowers.
“Des, you’re right. We’ll take these into the parlor where we can all enjoy them.”
“Allie—look at the mural.” Des stood in front of it, her hands on her hips.
“Oh, I’ve seen it. As much as the subject matter haunts Barney, it’s a great piece of art. It almost looks like the water is flowing over those rocks. But if it hadn’t been done by a well-known artist of the day, she’d have had it painted over a long time ago.” Allie lifted the vase. “Which means we’d be eating in the dining room once in a while instead of the kitchen all the time. Not that I mind, but—”
“Who was the artist again?” Where had she recently seen something similar?
“Oh. Alistair Cooper. He painted a lot of landscapes in the early thirties. He met our great-great-aunt Josephine at college and they fell in love, but her parents had higher sights for her than a penniless artist. The parents went on a trip, and when they came back, they found that Alistair had painted this mural on the dining room wall, and they recognized he had real talent and figured he had promise. So they let Great-Great-Aunt Jo marry the guy. At least, that’s how I remember it. He went on to become pretty famous, though it took awhile. He had a reputation for his amazing colors, their saturation. It was one of the things that set his art apart—his signature, if you will. His work has become more desirable over the past twenty years or so. That mural is worth major bucks.” She narrowed her eyes. “What are you thinking?”
Des turned on the overhead light, then drew closer to the mural. “That the blues in the sky remind me a lot of the blue on the ceiling at the Sugarhouse. That peacock shade? See, right here.” Des pointed to the sky above the falls.
Allie put the vase down and stepped closer. “I do see.” She spoke slowly as she studied the other colors in the mural. “The green in the trees . . . the gold sunlight. The red of the flowers down near the basin . . .”
“I’ll be right back.”
“Don’t drop something like this on me, then leave. Where are you going?”
“I’m getting Seth’s photos.”
Des returned with the photos, a clear shot of the ceiling in one hand. She held the photo up to the wall. “Okay, let’s make allowances for lighting, and for the fact that this is a photo. Still, I think the colors are awfully close.”
“I guess you’re thinking what I’m thinking.”
“If you’re thinking that Alistair Cooper painted the ceiling at the Sugarhouse, yeah.”
“The theater was built in the 1920s. Cooper painted this in the early thirties. He’d have been out of college by then, maybe hanging around Hidden Falls because of Josephine.”
“We should find out. There has to be some mention somewhere.”
“We’ve been looking for the name of the theater artist for a couple of weeks and we haven’t found anything,” Des reminded her.
“Maybe the ceiling wasn’t painted when the theater was built. Maybe the fancy painted décor came later.”
They both fell quiet, thinking of the possibilities.
“Maybe we’ve been looking in the wrong place,” Des suggested. “Maybe the name of the artist isn’t in the original files because there was no artist working on the theater when it was built. Maybe it’s in a later file, or maybe someone kept a journal. Josephine, maybe, or her mother.”
Allie groaned. “If there are journals, you know where they’d be.”
“In the attic. Where Barney’s mother stashed everything she didn’t want or wasn’t using, but never, ever tossed away. It’s worth looking for. Think of how much more likely we are to get a grant if we can prove that the ceiling and the lobby were early works by Alistair Cooper.”
“Not if I touch them up.” Allie leaned against the back of one of the dining room chairs. “I could ruin the whole thing.”
“No, you won’t. Let’s go ask Barney if she knows where any journals might be.”
“Wait, you said the mural made you think of two things. The ceiling was one. What’s the other?”
“Could we have that table there, near the back of the room?” Des asked the friendly waiter.
“Of course.” He led the way and handed them each a menu when they were seated. “We’re not quite set up for lunch yet since it’s early, so take your time. I’ll be back for your beverage order.”
Allie’s eyes were on the framed artwork that hung on the walls of Lotus.
“What did I tell you?” Des said.
“Let’s take a little walk around. There’s no one else here, so we won’t be disturbing anyone.”
They started at the closest landscape.
“Look at the signature.” Des pointed to the lower-right corner.
“Forget the signature, look at the greens in that field. That’s as much his signature as his name there in the corner. The quality of the color, the chroma, if you will.”
“You really did study art in college, didn’t you? Why didn’t you pursue it?”
Allie sighed. “Because I was stupid. I married Clint and he convinced me I’d never make any money painting. We wanted to buy a house in a certain neighborhood and we both knew I’d make more money working in TV because I could play off my family’s name, which I did for years.”
“Damn. I’m sorry, Al. He really sold you short.”
“I sold myself short. I could have stood up to him, or I could have gone back to painting after the house was paid off. I did neither. It’s on me.”
They moved around the room slowly, from frame to frame, lingering longer over some than others.
“What do those rocks remind you of?” Des asked.
“They’re the same rocks as the ones in the dining room, the rocks that overlook the falls. Only these are in a woodland scene. Interesting how he used elements from one in the other.” Allie bit her bottom lip. “I wonder which he did first.”
When they returned to the table, Allie sat next to Des and said, “I counted eight definite Coopers. They’re all dated between 1924 and 1936. There are three others that are in his style, but there’s no signature on those.”
“I noticed that. And there are those two others where we couldn’t read the name, but it’s definitely not Cooper’s.”
“Someone needs to have a chat with the owner. If he has no idea what he has hanging on his walls, as Greg told you, he’s grossly underinsured for fire and theft.”
“I’ll give Greg a call.”
“She said reluctantly,” Allie observed. “Have you heard from him since the weekend?”
Des shook her head. “Nope. There’s not much point, honestly.”
“So it’s Seth or nothing?”
“Something like that.”
“I turn my back for one minute, and my little sister runs off with a bald, tattooed giant on a Harley. What’s wrong with this picture?”
Des laughed. “Actually, it’s the right picture. Finally.”
“How’d you get that so wrong?” Allie asked.
“I think I wanted someone who didn’t make me feel threatened. I wanted safe, nothing dangerous.”
“You mean physically?”
Des shook her head. “No. I mean emotionally.”
The waiter arrived for their orders.
“I’m not as hungry as I thought. Could I please just have a cup of coffee?” Des said.
“Same for me.” Allie handed over her menu.
“Two coffees,” the waiter mumbled as he walked away.
“Seth does present a danger,” Des admitted. “He’s dangerous because deep inside I think I always knew I could care about him. But if we just stayed friends, he couldn’t hurt me the way Clint hurt you and Drew hurt Cara.” Des swallowed hard. “And the way Dad and Mom hurt each other. I liked him enough that I wanted to keep him in my life, and for a time, I thought the only way to do that was to just be friends with him.”
“You really believed that?”
Des nodded. “I said, for a time.”
“And that’s changed because . . . ?”
“His heart, his goodness, his honesty—those are the things that matter. When someone is as good, and kind, and sweet, and as caring as he is, it’s hard not to want more. And I realized I do want more.”
“How much more, exactly, did you have along with your steak?”
Des laughed at the not-so-subtle innuendo. “I kissed him. And I made him kiss me back.” She smiled at the memory. “I think he was in shock at first, but he adjusted quite nicely.”
“Zing went the strings of your heart?”
“Totally. Like being tossed across the room by a hot wire, to paraphrase Cara.”
“And this leaves Greg where?”
“Searching for someone else to date, I suppose. Look, he is a genuinely nice guy. But he’s the one I should be just friends with.”
“Does he know yet?”
“It’s not a big deal, really. I only went out with him twice. It’s not like there was anything between us except for a few anemic kisses.”
“You knew that after the first time you went out with him, so why the second date?”
“I was hoping I was wrong, I guess. I thought dating Greg was a good idea because I think I knew instinctively that I’d never fall in love with him.”
“That’s just plain mean.”
“Agreed. But it’s what was in my twisted little mind at the time.”
“What untwisted it?”
“Seth,” Des told her. “Seth just being Seth.”
“Awww, that’s so cute. And he made you dinner.”
“You scoff, but it was a very romantic dinner, out under the trees, with candlelight, flowers on the table, wine, a gentle breeze blowing across the fields, starlight.” She sighed, remembering. “Oh, and incredible baklava.”
“Oh dear Lord, this is more serious than I imagined.”
Des laughed. “Let’s go home and tell Barney and Cara what we found here, and I’ll give Greg a call so he can alert his friend that he has some valuable artwork on the walls of his little restaurant.”
Des called Greg from the car and left a voicemail. When he called back twenty minutes later, she was already home and in midst of telling Barney, Cara, and Nikki what she and Allie had discovered.
“I thought maybe we could do dinner again one night this week,” Greg said.
“Actually, I’m kind of tied up right now. I just wanted you to tell your friend who owns the restaurant that some of those paintings are probably worth a lot of money. He needs to bring in a credible art appraiser.”
“Wow. That would be amazing, wouldn’t it, after finding all those things in a storage shed? How crazy is that?”
“I know. But it does happen. The point is he needs to secure them and make sure he has them properly appraised and insured.”
“I will tell him. Now, how ’bout this weekend? Are you free?”
“Um, no, I’ve got plans.”
“Well, could I come over and chat with your aunt about the Hudsons and the coal mines? You know, for that class I was telling you about.”
“That would be fine. I’ll check with her and get back to you.”
“Great. Thanks. I’ll look forward to it.”
“I have no idea where my great-grandmother’s journals would be, if in fact she kept such things,” Barney was saying when Des rejoined the conversation. “Unless they’re in the attic.”
“I volunteer to look,” Nikki said. “I was going to search up there for the emerald necklace anyway. Finders, keepers, right, Aunt Barney?”
“That’s the deal.” Barney nodded.
“So we know for certain Cooper did this mural, and Allie and I saw some of his work today, and some of it was dated, so we can prove he was in the area from the 1920s through at least the midthirties. The colors in the mural are very distinctive, and they are really close in quality to the colors in the theater. I think we could make a case for him having done the work in the theater.”
“I suppose it would help a great deal with grants and obtaining historic designation for the Sugarhouse if we were to prove that Alistair Cooper did all the painting,” Barney said.
“I’m sure it would. In the meantime, we have the plaster repair starting next week. I’d have liked to have gotten that done faster, but Giovanni had several other jobs lined up before ours and didn’t feel he could bump them. Allie, you need to be ready to go to work once the plaster is dry.”
“I didn’t say I’d do it. I’m still not sure that I—”
“All in favor of Allie repainting the damaged parts of the ceiling, raise your hand.” Des ignored her by counting the votes. “Let’s see, that would be unanimous.”
“It’s not. I didn’t vote,” Allie protested.
“Doesn’t matter. You’d have lost.”