Page 59 of The Prize
Bay pointed to his canvas. “Thesfumatotechnique mellows colors and our imaginations fill in the rest.”
“Which is why Mona Lisa smiles when you look into her eyes,” said Tobias.
“And her smile drops when you look at her mouth,” said Bay, flashing me a smile. “If only I was that good.”
“Trust me, you are,” said Tobias. “I’d also very much like to show your work in my new gallery.”
“I would like that very much,” he said. “Do you paint, Mr. Wilder?”
“Only dabble in watercolors,” he said. “Though I wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to watch you work. If you don’t mind?”
“Of course not,” said Bay. “Anything in particular you’re interested in?”
Tobias pulled up a bar stool and sat. “Tell me more about thesfumatotechnique?”
“What about it interests you?”
“Everything,” said Wilder.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I’DNOTSEENTobias for two days.
He’d warned me he was heading into “the zone” and would be isolating himself as part of his process by getting absorbed into his project. I’d failed to dissuade him. This time apart should have been good for me but I missed him. Even if he was hidden away in his man cave working away onher.
I’d tried to settle in the library where I’d pulled book after book off the shelves but found nothing to hold my attention. I couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t wrap my head around my colleagues at Huntly Pierre being disappointed in me.
I couldn’t hold back any longer and went in search of my iPhone. I began in the most logical place, his bedroom. I was reminded that this had once been the maid’s quarters. Tobias had told me he preferred it down here because it was quieter. Or maybe it was because there was less in here to remind him of his grandmother. There was really nothing in here to make the place homey and as I turned around in the center I wondered if this was Wilder’s way of punishing himself. There were no luxuries in here and nothing to bring comfort.
The gym was a few doors down so it was convenient in that way but other than this it reflected Wilder’s desire for isolation. Unlike me he’d made his bed and his possessions were well organized too, from the way he’d hung his clothes in the wardrobe and lined up his shoes in an orderly fashion. I searched the top drawers of the dresser and found my phone—only it had been dismantled and was in pieces; unusable. He knew I’d come looking for it.
No doubt if I left the house to go and find a phone to call Huntly Pierre, Tobias would probably know I’d left and he’d come after me. I mulled over how far I’d have to get away from the house before I made the call so as not to compromise this place. I paced trying to think this through. If I unwittingly led the FBI here they’d search the house—
That would be a disaster.
I stopped before a painting of a woman on the beach with her two children who were playing in the sand. I wanted to climb through the canvas and be transported into the happy scene. I wanted to wade into the ocean and swim off.
My grit was wavering.
I realized I’d not eaten anything since yesterday afternoon and was actually pretty hungry. Heading back the way I’d come I returned to the kitchen. I rummaged around in the fridge and settled on some provolone cheese and fresh tomatoes and then found some whole-wheat bread to make sandwiches. At least when Tobias took a break there’d be something waiting for him to eat.
Settling at the central island I reached for the remote control and directed it at the walled TV and CNN came on. The world still turned without us no matter what. I wondered if Tobias’s grandmother had ever felt lonely here. I imagined she’d once looked forward to his visits. Her heartbreak at losing her daughter in the plane crash must have been unbearable and then having Tobias whisked off to France by his uncle would have cut deep. I wished I’d had the chance to know her. She’d decorated this place beautifully and had elegant taste. Maybe she’d bought some of these pieces of furniture during her travels.
Tobias and I had both lost our parents young and I wondered if it was also what had drawn us together. Although he’d been kept isolated I’d watched him with his friends and coworkers in that London pub and he’d reveled in their company. There was a complexity to him and this was why it had taken me this long to understand him. Tobias was a good man but life had distorted his sense of right and wrong.
A noise came from the upper part of the house, revealing he was out of his man cave. I slid off my bar stool and went in search of him. On the top floor along the hallway was a ladder coming down from what looked like an attic. Taking one rung at a time I gripped the bars and climbed, and at the top peeked into the loft with its low beams and dusty particles twinkling in a stream of sunlight. Tobias was in the corner kneeling over a box.
“Hey there,” I called out. “What are you doing?” It was so good to see him.
“Hi, I’m taking a break.” His two-day scruff was back.
“I made you a sandwich.”
“What time is it?”
“Two.” I trod carefully around a stack of boxes. Some were open and others still sealed to hold their secrets. “This looks like fun.”
“My grandmother’s things. I wish I could go through them all.”
