Love in Paris (The Art Models Club Book 4) (10 page)

Amber nodded. “I think that sums up Hunter as well. But he was overly protective even before the kidnapping.”

Mrs. Webb pressed her lips together and studied Amber.

“
I think it is up to Hunter to share particular parts of his past with you,” she said. “All I can say is that you are right that there was an incident when he was younger.”

She held up a warning finger.

“But please don't say that I mentioned it to you. He would be devastated that I even hinted about something so private.”

Amber sat there perplexed. So, there was something in Hunter's past but she wasn't allowed to talk about it. This was even more frustrating than not knowing anything at all!

Mrs. Webb winked.

“
Let me show you some photographs, dear,” she said, getting to her feet. “It will give us something to do before my husband arrives for dinner.

“
I'll be back in a moment,” she said, disappearing down a hallway.

When she returned, Mrs. Webb was carrying a large box.

“I'm ashamed to say that I've been meaning for years to sort these properly and put them in albums.”

“
That would be a good job for Hunter,” Amber said, grinning.

Mrs. Webb laughed. “You're right, dear, but they would be arranged be in his order. I suppose I'm not willing to relinquish that control to him.”

Amber picked a photograph at random and held it up.

“
He looks so serious even as a baby!”

Mrs. Webb smiled. “Yes, but there are others where he allows his happiness to show through. Ah, here's one.”

She handed over a photograph in which Hunter was laughing, his entire chubby little body exuding joy. In his arms he was clasping a small puppy.

“
Hunter loved that dog with a passion,” she said and then stood abruptly. “Perhaps I should check on the stew once more. And I think that I'll make a small salad to go with it.”

“
Can I help?” Amber asked, standing as well.

The change in Mrs. Webb's manner was so abrupt. Almost as though she was trying to tell her something.

“Oh, no, please sit and enjoy the photographs.”

She started to walk away and then stopped and turned.

“You can learn so much about a person's past from photographs,” she said, winking.

Amber's head swiveled back to the box. Ah! The answer was here after all. This was Mrs. Webb's way of letting her discover clues on her own. She fingered the picture of Hunter with the puppy. Was that a clue? She set it aside and started to sift through the box.

The photographs were jumbled together in no particular order. High school pictures were mixed in with toddler photographs. This was going to take forever, she thought with a groan. But at least now she had something to work with. She got so caught up in simply absorbing Hunter's growth through the years that she initially forgot that she was looking for any possible hints about the dog.

She went back and studied the photographs she had pulled and arranged in chronological order. Okay, the puppy was definitely in all of the baby photographs and even the toddler ones. High school? No, but that didn't mean anything because surely a dog didn't usually live that long. Or did it? She really had no idea how long dogs lived. She wished she had her laptop. Oh! The new phone!

She got up and retrieved the new cell phone from her purse. She wasn't sure that all new employees got cell phones but she wasn't going to question that. Fortunately, the phone was already programmed with a web browser app. She quickly typed in her question. How long do most dogs live?

Okay, not a simple answer, she thought, as she found that breed and size appeared to make a huge difference. But Hunter was no more than a year or two in the photograph. Even a long living breed might have died of natural causes by the time he was fifteen or sixteen. Somehow, she thought there was something more dramatic than the death of an aging dog anyway.

She kept pulling out photographs and realized that Hunter and the puppy photographs were mostly outdoors. Outdoors on sprawling grounds. So maybe the puppy wasn't his? Or perhaps the dog didn't stay with them here in the city. There were older people in the photographs as well. Those, she realized, must be Hunter's grandparents. Which would make sense, she thought, since Hunter didn't move to the United States until he was a little bit older. Had moving caused a separation loss that he couldn't cope with? That didn't sound very reasonable. She kept looking through the photographs.

At one point, Mrs. Webb came back into the room with a cheese plate.

“Wine, water, or soda?”

Amber looked up, remembering where she was.

“Water, please,” she said.  “And I know you can't tell me more but could you give me a sign if I'm at least heading in the right direction.”

Mrs. Webb stared at her for a moment. She put a finger to her chin.

“You know, sometimes when you're in a different environment than your own home, you can get so caught up in your surroundings that you venture where you shouldn't.”

Amber felt herself starting to flush. Was she being rude by asking too many questions about Hunter?

“Especially, if you are very young and inexperienced,” Mrs. Webb added with a sigh. “I know lots of children get themselves into difficult situations they are not prepared to handle.”

Mrs. Webb winked again. “I'll be back with your water in just a moment.”

Ah! She was trying to give Amber another clue!

Amber studied the photographs again. Even though she had only sifted through about a quarter of the box, a definite pattern was emerging. There were photographs of this home, easy to recognize because much of the furnishings remained the same. Then there was another home in the country with sprawling grounds surrounded by thick clusters of trees.

She concentrated on the country home. Mrs. Webb had said something about an environment different than home. So she could rule out the photographs that took place here. Amber started flicking through the box of photographs again, this time concentrating on any of the country home. She also pulled out mostly the outdoor ones because it seemed more likely for a young child to land himself into trouble outdoors.

And then she pulled out one photograph that intrigued her. In most of the photographs, Hunter ran around in sturdy play clothes. Many of the summer ones even had him barefoot with only a diaper on. But this particular photograph showed Hunter and his parents dressed up. So it was obviously a special occasion. She rooted through the box, hoping to find more. She was beginning to wish that Mrs. Webb had allowed Hunter to organize it! She smiled at the look on his face if he ever suspected such a thing. He would never let her live it down.

Mrs. Webb came back with the water and said that she expected her husband back within the next half hour. Amber thanked her and stuffed a bit of cheese in her mouth. Her stomach was growling now but she was intent on solving this mystery this evening.

But she only found a few more photographs that seemed to have any significance at all. One showed Hunter and his parents in the same clothes beside a cake with “bon chance” written on the top. She was certain that meant “good luck” and indicated that the family was celebrating before they left for the states. The dog was conspicuously missing in the photograph. Amber tried unsuccessfully to find a date on the back of the photograph. When had Hunter said that they moved to the states. She thought it had been when he was a baby, but he was clearly at least six years old, at the very least, in this photograph.

There was another photograph with him at a similar age playing on the lawn. While almost every single other outdoor photograph showed Hunter with the dog, this one simply had him sitting in a play car with his small hands clasping the steering wheel. He wasn't looking at the camera but rather off into space. Although he wasn't crying, he simply looked melancholy. It was a strange look for such a young child.

Amber checked the time on her phone. She only had a few minutes until Mr. Webb was due to arrive home for dinner. Thoughtfully, she carefully placed all the photographs back into the box. She did think, however, to place her own stack in a neat pile in the back of the box. Perhaps she would get another chance to look through it again. She stood up, popped another cheese and cracker bite into her mouth and chewed slowly. She followed her nose to the kitchen where the delightful scent of stew was wafting from.

Mrs. Webb was humming as she tossed a salad in a rustic wooden bowl. The kitchen, although equipped with every modern convenience including a six burner gas stove, was in the rustic French style. The long counter was polished wood covered in a lifetime of knife marks and scratches. A simple vase on the table held a large bouquet of flowers that looked as though they had just been picked from a garden and stuck there. The effect was warmth plus beauty.

“
Can I peek?” Amber asked, pointing to the large crock pot on the counter.

Mrs. Webb smiled and nodded. “Although if I keep looking at it, I'm going to have an entire bowl if Mr. Webb doesn't arrive soon.

Amber lifted the lid and groaned with pleasure as the wonderful aromas hit her nose. The stew bubbled delightfully in the pot. She could see bits of tender beef, carrots, potatoes, beans and onions, all waiting to be tasted.

“
I won't tell if you don't,” she said, grinning.

“
But I might get suspicious if all I get served is salad,” a voice said behind her and Amber jumped.

She whirled around and saw Mr. Webb entering the kitchen.

“I didn't mean to startle you, my dear,” he said, holding out his arms for a quick, warm hug.

“
I'm so pleased that you decided to join us. We were hoping that this internship here in Paris would give us more time with Hunter.”

He shook his head. “I'm afraid he works too much. Not one of the best traits he gets from me.”

Mr. Webb turned to his wife, giving her a loving embrace and a kiss on the mouth.

“
The stew smells amazing, darling. I'm glad I arrived in time to get some.”

Mrs. Webb laughed.

“We would have left you at least a small sample,” she said. “At least enough to make you hurry home next time.”

Amber was dying to ask about Hunter's pet dog but she realized that Mrs. Webb had already indulged as much as she was comfortable doing so. And if she was honest with herself, she knew that she wouldn't want anyone prying in her personal life behind her back either. Even if this was for Hunter's own good. She grimaced. Damn! Was she using the same argument that Hunter might use on her at some point?

Shaking her head, she allowed herself to simply enjoy a pleasant evening with the Webbs. They were so warm and friendly that she quite forgot that they were extraordinarily wealthy. She had expected perhaps servants or the food served on exquisite china. Instead, they ate on large sturdy plates. She wasn't even sure if they were antique. The wine glasses were obviously well crafted but certainly not fancy crystal. Apparently Hunter's simple everyday tastes were taken from the examples his parents set.

After dinner, she was pleasantly surprised to discover Mr. Webb helping his wife with the dishes. She insisted on helping as well and was given the job of drying the silverware and plates. Whether they did this every evening or not, it was clear that both of them were quite comfortable in the kitchen. Amber had to admit that it shattered her image of what a super wealthy family was like. Apparently, money was simply one small part of the equation.

At one point Amber looked up and realized that it was almost nine thirty. The time had passed so quickly. She started to wonder how she was going to get back to the hotel when she heard someone walking through the living room. To her delight, Hunter rounded the corner and greeted her with a smile and a kiss.

“
Hey, gorgeous! How was your afternoon?”

Amber leaned into him, inhaling his scent. She hadn't realized how much she had been missing him.

“Great!” she said. “I'll fill you in later but your parents are the most charming hosts ever.”

Hunter gave both his parents big hugs and then sniffed the air.

“Mm . . .Mom's famous stew. Is there any left?”

“
There's a big bowl with your name on it in the refrigerator,” Mrs. Webb replied. “I'll warm it up for you.”

“
I can get it, Mom. Just let me borrow Amber while it's heating up.”

Amber followed Hunter into the kitchen, watching as he rummaged in the refrigerator and found a bowl in the cabinet that could be microwaved.

“I trust you had enough to eat,” he said, nuzzling her cheek with his lips after he set the timer.

“
Two bowls of stew, a salad and enough bread to embarrass myself,” Amber said with a grin as she wrapped her arms around him.

“
Sorry you couldn't join us. Your parents are a lot fun.”