Page 35 of Nantucket Reflections
Charlie was smiling like crazy. “He won’t tell me what’s going on.”
Julia couldn’t feel their energy. She sat down beside Charlie and took a sip of the drink he’d ordered for her—another Aperol Spritz because she couldn’t get enough.
“What’s up?” she asked, trying on a smile that didn’t fit her face right.
“You remember that painting we saw last night?” Gregor asked. “The one at the restaurant? Sophia’s granddaughter painted it.”
Julia remembered it—the middle-aged woman, sketching on a back porch. Gregor had immediately fallen in love with it. She’d seen the spark behind it and understood that raw and real talent lurked within Sophia’s granddaughter. But she’d dismissed it, her head too full of thoughts of Lucia Colombo and the elusive CAT.
“I knew I recognized something about it,” Gregor went on. “I couldn’t put my finger on it until I sent the photograph of the painting to a few of my art friends. It was when I was talking about the way Sophia’s granddaughter uses lines that I realized I’ve talked about something similar recently.”
Gregor pulled out his phone and flashed her the image of the granddaughter’s painting, then flicked his finger over the screen to show the brand-new CAT mural, the one they’d all seen together in Paris. The one Lucia Colombo couldn’t possibly have done, because she’d been in Nantucket. The one Gregor said was most certainly not a CAT original but a very good copy.
“Look,” Gregor begged Julia and Charlie, beckoning for them to draw closer to the screen. “Look at the use of lines and color. Look at the way she signed her name!”
Julia squinted hard at the mural, unable to breathe. “I don’t understand,” she whispered.
“It’s the same artist!” Gregor cried, unable to contain himself. “I’m 99 percent certain. And my art friends share my theories.”
Julia raised her eyes to Gregor’s. It was his greatest artistic discovery, proof that he was one of the best thinkers in the art world today. It was also almost too incredible to believe.
“I don’t understand,” she said again.
“Sophia’s granddaughter did a near-perfect CAT-inspired mural at an incredibly pivotal time of so-called Lucia’s CAT career,” Gregor said. “It was obviously a message. She wanted to tell the world that Lucia wasn’t who she says she is.”
“But how does she know?” Julia asked.
“Does that mean Sophia’s granddaughter knows who CAT is?” Charlie asked.
Gregor blinked several times. “I think we have to go meet her and find out for ourselves,” he said.
Julia crossed her arms tightly over her chest. They were getting close, so close that if they didn’t discover the secrets behind this story, she thought her heart might break. “Have you asked Sophia about her granddaughter?” she asked softly. “Have you asked her about CAT’s identity?”
“Maybe she knows!” Charlie perked up at the thought.
“She’s at the bed-and-breakfast,” Gregor said, looking skittish. “We have to go through her to get to her granddaughter anyway.”
“Why are you nervous?” Julia asked.
Gregor rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t want her to think I’m chasing something I shouldn’t be. I don’t want her to think I’m using her granddaughter for anything. Sophia and Marius have been incredibly kind to me.”
Julia knew it was up to her to bite the bullet, to be the hard and brash American so many Europeans thought she was anyway. She raised her chin. “I’ll go,” she said.
Before they could stop her, she was on her feet, cutting out into the billowing darkness. It took no more than ten minutes to reach the bed-and-breakfast, and when she did, she found Marius and Sophia at the table in the main area, eating big plates of pasta and listening to classical music. When Sophia spotted her, she leaped to her feet and said, “Oh, I didn’t know you’d be here for dinner! There’s plenty. I’ll make you a plate.”
Julia couldn’t have been further from thoughts of food. She gasped for air and said, “Don’t worry about that. But Sophia, please. I need to ask you a question.”
Sophia paused in the doorway between the main room and the kitchen with her hand pressed hard against the wall. Julia’s head spun with questions. After a long time, she said, “Do you know that people say the muralist CAT is from Positano?”
Sophia didn’t flinch. “I’ve heard that rumor.”
“What do you think of it?” she asked.
Sophia raised her shoulders. “I think it’s just another game people play. A game to bring tourists in. I don’t think anything of it.”
Julia glanced at Marius, who continued to eat as though nothing was happening. It seemed clear to her that even if their granddaughter knew who CAT was, or wanted to protect CAT, Marius and Sophia were none the wiser. That, or they were really good liars. Julia didn’t think that was possible.
“Okay,” Julia said, her energy dying almost immediately. “I’m so sorry to interrupt your dinner like this.”
