Page 63 of Burning Caine

“I’ve made some progress on cleaning the bottom right corner.” He was cool, not looking at me. “Based on the original design, I also cleaned the strip which remains across the middle of the canvas. It should be the next place we look if the signature doesn’t work. Please take whatever pictures you need.” He stood back to give me room, forcing his hands into his pockets.

It was the first time I’d felt out of place in his office. Awkward and nervous, sure, but this was different. And the music was making it worse.

“Sofia sure picked a depressing soundtrack today, didn’t she?” I turned back to him, but his jaw clenched, and I groaned inside. Poor choice of words.

“Take your pictures. I’ll be right back.”

He left the studio to speak with Sofia, and I took photos with my phone. They spoke in hushed tones, rapidly in Italian, but I couldn’t make out any details.

The music stopped abruptly.

When he returned, he slid the painting into its protective sheath and took it to the storage room, engaging the lock when he finished. Silent the whole time.

I asked, “How close are you to the ultraviolet pictures?”

“Another week, perhaps.”

“A week?” Stunned, I stared at him, desperate to shake him out of this mood. “It looked so close to being ready. Is there really that much more you need to do?”

“I can only work on it so much in any day. I have other commitments.” He ran a hand through his hair and blew out a rough breath. “And I’m exhausted.”

“But you said you were the best.”

“I suppose my best is not enough for you, is it?” His lip curled up with his harsh tone. This was a side of him I’d never seen before.

“I didn’t mean—” I couldn’t hide the tremble in my voice, but I folded my arms tight against my chest to control their shaking.

“You have your pictures. The painting is locked away. I’m going. Sofia will see you out.”

I nodded, feeling as though I’d been slapped, and he walked out of the studio. I followed a few paces behind and turned the corner as he left. I stopped inside the door as he headed along the sidewalk, eyes down. Why did my heart feel like it was breaking over a man I’d never even been on a date with?

“Some days,” mused Sofia, standing behind her desk, causing me to jump. “He’s the most brilliant man I’ve ever met. And other days, he’s the stupidest.”

“Thanks for squeezing me in, Sofia. I’ll be back in a week or so.”

“Hold on,” she said. “Are you familiar with the Children’s Hospital Charity Gala?”

“No.” Odd question.

“They’re holding an auction for some paintings this year. My father had his eye on two of them but wanted to see them in person to choose which one to bid on. Papa and I had planned to go together, but he’s out of town. Antonio was supposed to go in his place, but he has been in such a mood he canceled. Now, here I am, with two tickets to the gala, and no one to go with me.”

“Take your husband?”

“He knows nothing about art, Samantha.”

“Frank?”

She rolled her eyes. “I couldn’t spend an entire evening with him. However, it’s dawned on me I know someone familiar with the art world whom I would enjoy spending an evening with.”

I raised an eyebrow, suspicious of where this was going.

She retrieved a large black envelope from her desk and handed it to me. I opened it and withdrew an invitation to the gala, gold imprint on black paper. The event was the next day at the Lansing Convention Center.

“Short notice, I know. I like you, Samantha. And from the look on your face, you need a girls’ night out.”

Strange offer. I’d been back in Brenton for a couple months, and my social life revolved around my family. Cass would say I should branch out. Maybe she’d even leave me alone about dating someone if I struck up some female friendships.

“You know what?” I nodded, sinking into the idea of going with her. “Yeah, I think that’d be fun.”

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