Page 46 of The Aura Answer
“Press releases? Wow.” Publicity. Her family avoided publicity. Until Evie decided to go public with her Solutions business, they’d kept their gifts quiet. But this was what Nick did for a living, and for Bertie...
The Brit set down the frame and inhaled the aroma of soup in his cup. “This smells delicious.”
“I don’t know what happens once Pris and Dante return to Italy. We’ll all starve. So enjoy while you can.” He’d probably move on then. She’d be back at work. This needed to be done now. If she meant to write mysteries, she had to learn how to investigate them.
She crouched down to examine another frame, mentally flailing over what she wanted to ask.
“I’d like to poke around that gallery a little more,” he said out of the blue, sipping at minestrone broth. “Jax said something about the Layman person dating the gallery owner. And we have the sketch with her daughter and Toby and the others, so the daughter might know something. I called there this morning, and Verity works afternoons.”
Gracie thought her jaw dropped. She hastily bit her tongue and glanced up at him. Had he taken up the family habit of reading minds?
He was inhaling soup and bread and watching her as if she were the last woman on earth. She hastily adjusted her sweater and stood up. That didn’t help. His gaze followed, and she could feel the heat of it clear to the bone. The sweater must be too small. Maybe it had shrunk. She should have put on a jacket.
She swallowed. She had to be brave like Evie. “I was thinking the same thing. We could ask this Verity person if she’s seen more of Bertie’s sketches and if they’d like to contribute to the website for his family.”
He beamed. “Most excellent. This afternoon?”
It wasn’t as if she was doing much of anything else. She nodded. “Should we take the color sketch with the Corvette? Use that as our excuse for returning?”
“Good thought. If it’s not part of the pattern, it should be harmless. And maybe she’d like to buy it. Let me finish up here. Say, in about an hour? Do we need to do more Christmas shopping?”
“I’ll ask if anyone needs anything. There’s always something. But be warned, Pris will want spices from some fancy store downtown. This could take a while.” She’d be in his company all afternoon. Flashing warning lights and alarms screamed in her head.
Recklessly, she refused to heed the warnings. She liked being a schoolteacher, but she wanted... something more. She had to overcome her cautious nature and decide what she wanted.
She ate lunch and hastily tried on several tops, but everything she owned showed her boobs. She was too big in all the wrong places. She needed to look more like Pris. Maybe she could borrow from Evie’s closet... Except her sister wore t-shirts with ridiculous sayings and didn’t own anything decent.
Maybe ridiculous sayings kept people reading words instead of studying boobs. Evie might be onto something there.
She found a blouse that tied with a big bow at her neck. The bow had long, wide ties that blew about in the wind and distracted to some degree. Then she pulled on a cardigan and considered borrowing one of her mother’s shawls. Oh well, too late for that. She debated skirt or pants and decided on pants. They seemed safer.
Evie was back scraping walls in the guest room—which probably meant she was plotting. Pris and Dante had the kids studying. Gracie kissed Aster, collected shopping lists, and was outside with the Kia keys by the time Nick emerged, showered and dressed like an announcer on BBC. He picked up his briefcase with the sketch.
“It’s a shame you have to hide behind a website,” she said tartly, climbing into the driver’s seat. “You could have every female on the planet drooling over your social media posts.”
He looked vaguely startled. “Me? Why? And would it sell art?”
She sighed and bit her tongue. If he didn’t know his photo would have women swarming to the site, she wasn’t telling him. “Forget it. Gallery first?”
“Yes, after we question Verity, if we can, then we’ll be free to have fun.” He settled back in the seat with a smile.
Gracie didn’t want to know what his idea of fun was. She hoped it meant thrift stores. “You think Verity might know where to find Bertie’s surprise sketch?”
“One can hope. If not, maybe she’ll drop a tidbit that might lead us to Bertie’s drug dealer or Layman’s plans. I don’t suppose she’d actually tell us why she and Toby had Bertie following the Turlocks.”
“You probably don’t suppose right, but it’s a good goal.”
Once in the city, they found a parking space down the street from the gallery and walked under the ancient oaks to the renovated townhouse with its elegant molding and shiny black door. The bell rang as they entered. As before, no one was present.
“Terrible way to do business,” Gracie murmured.
“Only one person on the premises to keep costs down.” He scouted the walls, presumably looking for Bertie’s sketches. “They haven’t hung any, much less any mantel-size one.”
Gracie went directly to the small desk in a back corner and delicately rang the bell. No one appeared. Nick joined her, frowning.
The telephone on the desk rang. No one answered.
With all the confidence she didn’t possess, Nick strode toward the door that said “private” and pushed it open, then shouted, “Call the police, Grania!”
