In Shelter Cove (8 page)

“Your mother likes me.”

“Exactly—another strike against you.” She marched past him into the church. “Let’s go meet the Lowells. I have to get back to work soon.”

* * *

After her frustrating trip to the police station, Brianna spent several hours unpacking and setting up the house. By three o’clock, she was more than ready for a break, so when Nancy stopped by to ask if she and Lucas would like to take a walk into town, she readily agreed. They dropped the puppy off with Rick and then headed down the hill.

“I thought we’d stop in at the new bakery that just opened,” Nancy said. “It’s called Sugar and Spice, and it’s run by a local girl, Lauren Jamison. Lauren was a year younger than Derek, but she spent time with him and some of his friends. I’ve heard that the bakery is really good.”

“Sounds great. Lucas, wait for us to cross the street,” she added as her son skipped ahead to the corner.

Nancy smiled at her. “Lucas has so much energy, just like Derek did. We used to take this same walk when Derek was a little boy. We’d say hello to Rick at the hardware store, then we’d pop in at the quilt shop so I could pick up new threads, and our last stop would always be Martha’s Bakery, where we’d get a tart filled with whatever fresh fruit was in season. Those were good days.”

Brianna saw the tears gathering in Nancy’s eyes and slipped her hand into hers, giving her fingers a reassuring squeeze. “Now you can share the tradition with Lucas.”

“I’m so happy you agreed to move here, Brianna. It helps to have you and Lucas nearby. It makes me feel closer to Derek.” She cleared her throat. “But
we’re not going to be sad today. There have been enough tears.”

“I agree.” Seeing the prison walls every night outside her window had made her feel as trapped as Derek. The view from the hills of Angel’s Bay was quite different, and she loved the infinite beauty of the landscape. “It’s a gorgeous day.” The clouds from yesterday had blown by, and there was nothing but blue skies and bright sunshine.

“I hope the weather holds for the Harvest Festival this weekend. You’re going to love all the festivities. And then next week we head right into Halloween. Does Lucas know what he wants to be?”

“He’s changed his mind half a dozen times already, and I don’t think he’s done yet.”

“I’m sure the preschool will have a lot of activities. Lucas is set to start next Monday, right?”

“Yes,” Brianna replied. “Which means I need to find a job. The local schools don’t have any openings for teachers, but they put me on the sub list. The high school principal is fairly confident they can use me in the spring, but in the meantime, I have to find something else.”

“There’s an opening at the quilt shop.” Nancy said. “It’s only about fifteen hours a week, but it would be a little cash, and it’s a great place to meet people. I can watch Lucas for you.”

Brianna gave her mother-in-law a suspicious look. “Don’t you work part-time at the quilt store?”

Nancy grinned unrepentantly. “Well, I did, but I’d much rather spend time with Lucas. I talked to
Fiona Murray, the owner, and explained how wonderful it would be if you could take my place for a while. She was quite agreeable. She’ll be there this afternoon if we want to stop in.”

“So this wasn’t just a casual walk,” Brianna said.

“We don’t have to go today; it’s up to you. If it’s too soon, Fiona will understand. She comes across as a tough old broad, but she’s a sweetheart inside.”

Brianna thought about the offer as they crossed the street. It
was
soon, but why not start working right away? She could always use the money, and perhaps people would be more inclined to talk to her about Derek and the theft if she wasn’t such an outsider. “I’d like to do it, if they’ll take me on,” she said finally. “I’ve never worked in retail.”

“You’ll pick it right up. You already know how to sew and I’ve shown you the basics of quilting.”

“That’s true,” Brianna murmured.

You’ll meet people, too. Quilting is very popular around here. Our community quilting nights draw quite a crowd,” Nancy added.

“What’s that over there?” Lucas asked, interrupting their conservation. He pointed to the hillside above the beach, where a dozen kites were flying.

“They’re practicing for the kite-flying competition this weekend,” Nancy answered. “Your father won it three years in a row when he was a kid.”

“He did?” Lucas asked, clearly impressed. “Can I do it, Mommy?”

“Sure, I guess so.” She knew nothing about flying a kite, but how hard could it be?

“
They have kite-building kits at the quilt shop,” Nancy told her. “We can pick one up when we’re there.”

As they neared the waterfront, the streets grew more crowded. It was long past lunch, but the smells of garlic and fish still lingered in the air. People were lined up at Carl’s Crab Shack to buy clam chowder in bread bowls. Coffee was brewing at the Java Hut and warm, salty pretzels were being sold on the corner by a street vendor. It was like a picture postcard: the boats rocking in their slips, people riding their bikes or strolling along the bay. A beautiful, idyllic seaside town.

But as they turned a corner, Brianna’s sense of peace fled. Amid the clothing boutiques and cafés was the Markham Gallery, anchoring the far corner with its impressive brick-walled presence. There Derek had gotten his first exposure to the world of art dealing and had made his initial contacts. The gallery was one of the first places he’d taken her to when he’d brought her to Angel’s Bay. Everyone had been so happy to see him, greeting him like a long-lost friend. How quickly that had changed after the robbery.

“There’s the bakery,” Nancy said. “Why don’t we get our treat before we go to the quilt shop? I’m a little hungry.”

“Can we, Mommy?” Lucas asked eagerly.

Brianna hesitated. “Why don’t you two go ahead? I’ll window-shop for a few minutes and meet you back here.”

Nancy took Lucas’s hand and crossed the street. Once they had entered the bakery, Brianna headed toward the gallery, which was housed in a three-story brick building with floor-to-ceiling windows. She stepped inside the airy space, feeling as if she were stepping back in time. A wall of beautiful mirrors greeted her, their cut glass sparkling under the light. Tall white columns divided up the space, and paintings hung prominently on the walls. A black granite counter fronted a small reception area, where a young woman sat behind a computer. She appeared to be in her late twenties, with dark brown hair pulled back in an elegant updo. She spoke on the phone in low tones, lending an air of hushed importance to the room. When she saw Brianna, she ended the call and rose to her feet with a welcoming smile.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

Brianna hesitated, not sure where to start. The Markhams had been interviewed by the private investigator and the police. What on earth could she hope to find out?

“I know you,” the woman said suddenly, her gaze narrowing. “You’re Derek Kane’s wife, aren’t you?

“Yes, I am,” Brianna replied, surprised. “Have we met?”

“No, but I saw you at the trial. I’m Katherine Markham. My aunt and uncle, Gloria and Steve Markham, own this gallery. I was really sorry to hear about Derek’s death. He was a good guy.”

There was no judgment on Katherine’s face, which was surprising. The local art community had turned on Derek. He’d stolen paintings of great importance to the community, and the breach in security had led to the abrupt end of the art festival, which had never been reinstated. Brianna cleared her throat. “Did you know my husband well?”

“A long time ago. Derek and I both worked here in high school, and we occasionally painted together in Wyatt’s studio. Derek was a fantastic artist. I was disappointed when he stopped painting and went into the business end. I thought it was a terrible waste of his talent. Then again, Derek wasn’t big on living the life of the starving artist, so I guess it made sense.”

Brianna frowned at the mention of Derek’s artistic talent, which he’d always been unwilling to share with her. When she’d asked to see some of his work, he’d cut her off, telling her flatly that there was no work to be seen. He’d destroyed it all after his last conversation with his grandfather, who had apparently deemed his art a failure.

“So you know Wyatt, too,” Brianna said.

“Oh, sure, everyone in the art community knows Wyatt. He’s a crazy-good artist but also demanding, ruthless, and a little cruel. He and Derek had their battles.” Katherine paused, giving her a curious look. “So you’re living here now?”

“Yes, we just moved in this week. I have a son, Lucas.”

“
I heard. I can’t imagine Derek with a son. He never quite seemed like a grown-up to me, even after he grew up.”

That was true. Derek’s boyish charm had been one of his most appealing traits. “Were you here during the art festival five years ago? Derek introduced me to a lot of people, but I don’t remember meeting you.”

“I was out of town on a buying trip. By the time I got back, Derek’s trial was already under way. I was stunned when he was found guilty.” Katherine paused as the phone rang. “I’d better get that. Feel free to look around.”

As Katherine took the phone call, the front door opened, and Wyatt and the Markhams entered the gallery. Brianna’s heart skipped a beat, and her throat felt suddenly dry. Derek’s grandfather was dressed all in black, which seemed to be his usual attire, the dark clothes contrasting with his wild white hair.

Steve Markham was a sophisticated, well-dressed man in his mid-forties, with short brown hair that matched the color of his eyes. Gloria appeared a few years younger, with black hair and olive skin that gave her an exotic beauty. She wore a sophisticated turquoise sheath dress adorned with colorful beaded jewelry. The three had been engaged in a lively debate, but when they saw Brianna, their conversation ended abruptly.

“Brianna, what are you doing here?” Wyatt asked sharply.

“Just looking around.” She turned her attention
to the other couple. “Mr. and Mrs. Markham—I don’t know if you remember me.”

“Of course we do,” Steve said smoothly. “We’re sorry for your loss, Mrs. Kane.”

There wasn’t a hint of honesty in his polite words. Apparently, the Markhams held the same animosity toward Derek that Wyatt did. She doubted they would be interested in helping her prove Derek’s innocence.

“Brianna?” Wyatt repeated. “What’s going on? I hope you’re not still under the delusion that you’ll be able to prove someone else stole the paintings.”

“Wouldn’t it be wonderful if I could? Wouldn’t you want me to clear your grandson’s name?” she challenged.

“That won’t happen. We all know that Derek stole art that was the heart of Angel’s Bay, and he did it to get back at me. He deserved what he got.”

“He deserved to die?” she asked, anger overtaking her amazement. “How can you not care that your grandson is dead, that he left a child behind? What kind of man are you?”

“Of course I care that Derek is dead.” His jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing to hard, black beads of anger. “I gave that boy every opportunity to be the best, to succeed. I opened doors that would have slammed in his face if it weren’t for me. He threw it all away. You shouldn’t be asking what kind of man
I
am. You should be asking yourself what kind of man would steal something so important to the people who loved him. What kind of man would marry a
woman while he was serving a prison term? What kind of man would—”

“Stop!” She put up a hand in protest, his words making her stomach turn over. “I know who Derek was. I was his wife.”

“And I was his grandfather. I watched him grow up. I taught him how to paint. I listened to his dreams. You had a six-month fairy-tale romance, followed by a five-year relationship conducted over a prison telephone. You can’t
begin
to compete with what I know about Derek and what you don’t. And if you keep asking questions, you might be surprised to find that the answers are even worse than you imagine. If you want to save some scrap of Derek’s reputation for your son, then leave the past alone.”

Wyatt stalked toward the back of the gallery, motioning to the Markhams to follow him.

Brianna let out a breath, shaken by his harsh and cruel words. He seemed so certain of Derek’s guilt. Did he know something she didn’t?

She saw Katherine’s speculative gaze on her and was grateful that the gallery was otherwise empty.

“Wyatt loved Derek,” Katherine said quietly.

“Did he?”

“The people you love are the only ones who can hurt you that badly.”

Maybe that was true, or maybe Wyatt was just an egotistical ass who couldn’t see past his own importance. With a muttered good-bye, Briana left, relieved to be out in the open air.

Perhaps she needed to take a step back and think
about her approach. There was so much anger toward Derek that she doubted anyone in the art community would be willing to help her, especially with Wyatt standing so firmly on the other side. And the police had no interest in reopening an investigation that might only make one or more of their officers look bad. She would have to find another way into the past.

Heading down the street to the bakery, she saw Nancy and Lucas sitting at an outside table. Her son’s eyes sparkled with delight when he saw her, and his smile was all she needed to put the world right again. Whatever mistakes she and Derek might have made, Lucas wasn’t one of them. And she would do whatever it took to keep that smile on his face.

“We had tarts,” Lucas told her with a delighted grin. “My favorite is raspberry. Daddy’s was, too.”

Brianna suspected Nancy had made the comparison for him. She was a little worried by how often the Kanes compared Lucas to Derek. She wanted Lucas to be loved for himself, not as a replacement for the son they’d lost.

“Would you like one?” Nancy asked, nodding to the pink bakery box on the table. “I got some for us to take home.”

“Maybe later.” Her stomach was still churning from her recent conversation with Wyatt.

“I guess we’re ready to go to the quilt shop, then,” Nancy said as she got to her feet. She gave Brianna a curious look as they started walking. “Are you all right? You look a little pale.”