The Stolen Canvas (7 page)

7

Tara surveyed the tools Annie had provided for cleaning the wicker furniture: A paintbrush with stiff bristles that had been cut down halfway, a dowel with a sharp point, and a toothbrush. Tara had never cleaned wicker before, but she was eager to do something to show her gratitude. Annie had been so kind in the six days since she’d come, looking after her, providing rest and nourishing food, and arranging for a visit to the doctor. She wanted to do something in return. Something to make up for the lies—and for what she was going to do!

“Let me help,” she had pleaded when Annie left to go to town. “I’m feeling so much better. I think those iron pills your doctor prescribed for me are already working. I’m—really grateful for your kindness.”

Annie was wearing white jeans and a lime green top with a scallop of tiny white flowers at the neckline. Her blonde hair shone in the sunlight as she stooped to retrieve her crochet project and tuck it into her tote bag. She and Alice had errands to do that morning, she had explained. She would come back for her later, and they would go to the club meeting together.

Tiny gold flecks danced in Annie’s striking green eyes. “Are you sure you don’t mind doing this? I need to prepare the way for you to join us at A Stitch in Time. You see, people in Stony Point are wonderful, but they don’t take to outsiders very well unless they’ve been warned that someone new is coming. I’ll be back in a couple of hours—the meeting is at eleven o’clock—then I’ll introduce you to my Hook and Needle Club friends.”

“Of course, I understand. And I’m happy to clean the wicker,” Tara said. Annie was actually going to leave her alone at Grey Gables—with free reign of the house and silverware!

“You won’t get all the furniture done this morning. Just leave everything where it is when you need to change for the meeting. We can finish it later. Remember not to get it too wet, and once you’ve washed it, you need to dry it.” She motioned to a basket in the corner that held clean white rags. “I’ve prepared a solution of water and ammonia. Once you dust, you can wash the furniture with the brushes. The toothbrush is good to get in small places, and the paintbrush can be used for the larger areas. The pointed stick comes in handy for those tiny grooves that trap the dirt.”

Then Annie had climbed inside Alice’s Mustang and left her on the porch at Grey Gables. Boots, who had followed her mistress to the car, returned and trotted lightly up the steps. The cat wrapped herself around Tara’s ankles and purred a welcome.

“You too!” she scolded lightly, and stooped to stroke the velvety gray fur. Why did everyone have to be so kind to her? It made what she was planning to do so hard! She switched on the handheld vacuum to dust an overturned chair. Plying the nozzle into the most deeply soiled areas, she began to scrub. If only she could wash away the grime that had a choke hold on her heart.

It wasn’t a total lie, she rationalized. She really did want to talk to someone who knew her mother; but the other part—the plan to steal valuable artwork—was Jem’s idea. Maybe she could get him to change his mind or just be happy with one canvas. Then they could both get away from here and start over somewhere.

A shadow flashed across her peripheral vision, and suddenly a figure rounded the porch and came up the steps. “Jem! What on earth are you doing here!” She dropped the vacuum hose. “Someone will see you!”

“No one will be coming by right now,” he said, panting with the effort of the climb. “But just to be sure, let’s step inside.”

“Jem, please! Annie could come back any minute. If she finds you here …”

He pushed her forward into the entry hall of Grey Gables. “They won’t be back any minute. They just left. And no one is around except that neighbor of Mrs. Dawson’s, and she drove off with the boss lady. So you see, we’re completely alone!”

Tara closed the door and leaned against it, her heart beating a frightened rhythm. “It was you!” she gasped. “The other day when the flowerpot fell off the rail. You’ve been watching! Spying on us!”

“Blasted cat nearly scared me to death. When I jumped out of its way, my elbow knocked the pot over. Good thing the woods were so close.”

“Oh, Jem. I hate this! I hate what we’re doing …”

“Tara, sweet Tara,” he said, coming close to her, “I’ve been watching, and you were terrific. The way you made the lady of the house fall all over herself to help you. You did just fine; you’re a real actress.” He wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled her head against his chest.

The familiar scent of him, all fresh and piney, and the warm breath of his mouth next to her ear made her dizzy. Why did everything just fly out of her head whenever he was around? “I missed you, Jem,” she murmured.

“And
J.C
. missed you too, baby,” he said. “So tell me, what have you seen inside that attic?” His eyes gleamed with hope and too familiar avarice.

“Nothing! I’ve only had a few days here. I can’t just up and ask to look through her attic!” She caught her lip between her teeth and struggled to explain. “Besides, she’s been … so good to me. Can’t we just forget about doing that? We could leave today …”

She felt his body stiffen. He gave her a little push backward. He planted both hands against the door on either side of her and looked into her eyes. A strand of black hair fell lower on his forehead. He was quiet for a few seconds, but she could see a muscle working in his jaw, which meant he was angry. Then the little boy angst took over, that plaintive needing in him that always cut through her defenses.

“I need you to help me—to help us!” he whined. “I thought we were a team. You know how tough things have been for me. I need you, baby.”

When he began stroking her hair, her arms and shoulders, she let her breath out in a long stream. “Jem …” He silenced her with a kiss, and then drew back with a smile that made her wilt.

“That’s my girl. Take all the time you need. I won’t hurry you ” He paused and added, “too much!” He rolled his eyes around the foyer and the view of Grey Gables’s living room. “This is some place, and that picture!” He stepped toward the large cross-stitch hanging over the sofa in its gold filigreed frame.

The vibrant red-orange poppies seemed alive in the room, the verdant greenery giving the flowers sharp dimension. An intricate border design around the work drew all the elements together in splendid artistry.
A work of love
, Annie had said with such tenderness in her eyes.

“She’s got stacks of pictures like that hidden away in that attic, I’ll bet.”

“Jem, you have to get out of here! What if she comes back and finds you here? Besides, I’m supposed to be cleaning the wicker on the porch.”

“She’s got you doing her dirty work already? Those rich ones are all alike. They don’t want to get their hands dirty.”

Annie didn’t put on airs. And Grey Gables was no mansion—it was beautiful but modest. Why couldn’t Jem understand? “That’s not fair!” Tara retorted. “She’s not like that.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said wearily. He paused and raised his eyebrows as though a new thought had come to him. “She’s got my brother, Wally, working for her too.” He rubbed his jaw in that way Tara knew so well. “I must say, Wally’s got himself a nice little wife, though. That Peggy, she’s a real looker, rounded in all the right places.”

Tara cringed. She hated it when Jem teased her about other girls. They weren’t married, but they had an understanding, didn’t they? She supposed he fooled around like many men did, but he always came back to her, didn’t he? She was glad that Peggy—whoever she was—was married and hoped she wouldn’t be bowled over by his charm.

“Well, sweet Cinderella, I’m going now. You can get back to your chores, but don’t wait too long. I’ll be watching.” He slipped out the door and scuttled around the porch to retreat from Grey Gables the back way.

Tara knew she’d lost valuable time, but she managed to completely clean and dry one chair before flying up to the guest bedroom to change into something presentable for the club meeting. She imagined it was some kind of quilting bee attended by a bunch of dried-up old women with time on their hands. But Annie Dawson was nothing like that; nor was Alice MacFarlane with her shining hair and glittering rings.

She had barely changed out of her work clothes when Annie and Alice returned to pick her up. She tucked in her blouse with nervous fingers and smoothed her hair. She could choke Jem for waltzing in on her, getting her all upset and nervous. She forced a cheerful smile as she got into Alice’s Mustang. Then they were off for the quilting bee.

Actually, only one quilt was in evidence when Tara arrived at A Stitch in Time, and the women of varying ages and dress were anything but dried up. Glancing around the tidy shop with its colorful banks of yarn, fabric, and threads lifted her spirits. The cheerful ambience in the room took the edge off her newcomer anxiety.

“This is Tara Frasier, a friend who’s staying at Grey Gables for a while,” Annie said, introducing her. “She’s come especially to visit with us and to meet people who might have known her mother.”

A sturdy woman of sixty or so, wearing a maroon smock and a gentle smile, took both of Tara’s hands in hers. “I’m Mary Beth Brock, the owner of A Stitch in Time. Welcome to the Hook and Needle Club.” Her eyes were kind but shrewd; no doubt the owner of a thriving needlecraft shop had to be astute in business, Tara thought. She’d have to watch her step around this one.

She was introduced to Kate Stevens, a woman in her late thirties. When Mary Beth referred to her as “my right-hand and left-hand girl, without whom I’d be handless,” Kate’s laugh was quick and light. “Her daughter Vanessa is still in high school,” Mary Beth continued. “Vanessa won’t be here today; she’s volunteering at the animal shelter, and the boss wouldn’t release her today.”

At the sound of a disapproving “Hmmph! Her boss is right!” Mary Beth turned to a tall octogenarian with upswept gray hair whose knitting needles fairly sparked with friction. “And this is Stella Brickson. Mind you, Mrs. Brickson’s a charter member and a walking encyclopedia on Stony Point lore!”

Tara shivered at the sight of the straight-laced elderly woman with eyes that seemed to bore right through her. But she relaxed a little when the hint of a smile appeared and the white head bent slightly in her direction. A walking encyclopedia. Had she known her mother?

“And I’m Gwendolyn Palmer. But you may call me Gwen like everyone else.” The lady wore a gorgeous silk blouse and a purple paisley scarf caught at her regal neck with a glittering brooch. She was knitting something fluffy and lavender. Definitely a woman of style. Suddenly Tara felt dumpy in her jeans and peasant blouse.

A tinkling bell announced an arrival, and Tara glanced up to see a young woman with short dark hair whip off a pink apron. “I’m sorry I’m late. Every tourist in Stony Point has visited The Cup & Saucer today.” She flashed a wave to everyone around the circle, and Tara could see that her nails were painted purple. They’d go well with Gwen Palmer’s scarf!

“Don’t worry about it, Peggy. As long as you get here, we’re all happy,” Annie said. “And how is Wally, my favorite handyman? I can’t wait to get him back to have a go at my pantry shelves.”

Tara flinched. So this was Peggy. And she was part of this group! Tara tried not to stare at the glossy hair and the well-endowed figure. Someone was introducing her, but she couldn’t focus on what was said as she watched the energetic waitress mould herself into an easy chair and kick off her shoes.

“Nice to meet you, Tara,” Peggy said as she pulled a partially completed quilt of pink and green squares from her tote bag.

Mary Beth linked an arm through Tara’s and said to the gathered women, “I’m going to show our guest where the coffee supplies are. Carry on. We won’t be long. Then we have some business to discuss.”

“Oh!” Tara breathed when they reached the back of the shop. “They’re adorable!” A basket of kittens was tucked into an alcove. A palette of variable color and design, they squirmed and mewled in a fluffy tangle. A tiny black kitten lay rather still but gave her an inquisitive glance before dropping its head like a dark stone. She dearly loved animals. As a child she’d always wanted a pet, but her mother had staunchly refused.

“Their mother gave birth to them in our window well,” Mary Beth said. “Vanessa and I have been taking care of them since their mother abandoned them. And they’re doing pretty well. Even poor little Blackie there.”

Tara longed to pick it up and cuddle it, but it was so fragile. Suppose she dropped it? She felt a pang in her chest like a long-forgotten memory suddenly sharpened. How often had she sat on the faded plaid couch waiting for her mother to wake up? It was a loneliness that continued into adulthood. Yes, she knew what abandonment was.

“It’s all right. You can touch them. They’re too small to bite.” Mary Beth had taken her momentary pause as fear.

And perhaps it was, but it wasn’t fear of the kittens. Instead, it fear of abandonment, of loneliness, of life. And she was frozen on the spot until she heard the sound of coffee being poured into a ceramic mug.

“It’s ironic, really, since we had just decided to run a benefit show for the local animal shelter,” Mary Beth said. “It’s not an official shelter or anything, at least not yet. Carla is just a citizen who takes in animals. Some of these little guys might end up there if we can’t find good homes for them.” Mary Beth handed her the mug.

She took a sip, finding it mellow and sweet with an almond flavor. “Thank you. This is nice—very nice.” She clutched the coffee self-consciously.

“Annie tells me that you used to work for a sign company.” Mary Beth cocked her head to one side and raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, it was mostly signs and such, and I do enjoy drawing.” Tara felt herself relaxing a little. She was glad for this short reprieve. One stranger at a time was better than a whole cadre of them at once.

As though she had read her mind, Mary Beth said gently, “Now, Tara, when we go back out there, everyone will be working on a project of some kind. Maybe you could sketch out a few ideas for our animal shelter benefit. I’ll give you all the pertinent information, and your hands can be just as busy as all those hands out there. What do you think?”