Page 25 of The Aura Answer
He had to admit, it was almost refreshing not living with his cousins’ high drama every second. Without taking a single hit to his already-flattened ego, he navigated, using his phone to direct her down a side lane where they might find more parking.
The area where the gallery was located wasn’t in the more fashionable districts but on a quiet side street of mixed historic buildings and modern offices. He loved the charm of pink buildings and palm trees, even if modern vehicles were a blight upon the landscape. Sunday afternoon Christmas shopping had filled the streets. He helped Gracie from the driver’s seat, although she insisted on resisting. He liked the human contact, and the schoolteacher looked as if she could use a little coddling.
Janus Gallerywas discreetly embossed in script on a bronze plaque attached to white-painted brick beside a lacquered black door.
“Not exactly the kind of place for Bertie’s work, is it?” Gracie whispered as he tried the door.
“Ask me about antiques, not art,” he murmured as they stepped inside the hushed, open gallery that would fit into any London art scene.
They had time to peruse oils and watercolors of Charleston panoramas before anyone approached them.
Nick gauged the saleswoman to be in her late fifties with artfully colored auburn hair and a discreet Botox treatment or two. Good bones, model frail, pink designer suit with black piping—definitely the owner.
“Mrs. Janus?” he inquired in his best Oxford accent. He’d attended a much smaller university, but he’d been selling himself all his life. “A pleasure to meet you.”
She covered her surprise nicely. “To whom do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”
“My friend, Mrs. Jenkins.” He gestured at Gracie. “She learned that some of Albert Walker’s sketches could be found here. I’m a fan and thought I might find a piece for my collection.” He figured Gracie was burning holes in his hide, but pretentious is as pretentious does.
The gallery owner seemed a trifle rattled but recovered well. “Yes, of course, so tragic to learn of the passing of someone with so much potential. You’ll understand we had to cancel his opening, under the circumstances.”
“Yes, naturally. I assume he hadn’t delivered all his pieces. Might I see what he left here or has his family already claimed them?”
“His family?” She seemed flustered. “Verity led me to believe... But, of course, there is family. No, no one has claimedthem. I will have my assistant bring them out. They’re unframed, naturally.” She excused herself and fled to the back.
“Weird,” Gracie murmured. “Was she planning on selling them and keeping the money?”
“Not planning at all is my suspicion, or they’d be framed by now. There would be a catalog. Or perhaps things are done differently here?” He studied a life-size portrait of some granny’s face in a bonnet.
“I wouldn’t know. Places like this terrify me.”
A nondescript young woman in gray set up several easels, then began sorting drawing papers on them. Definitely not a professional display. Nick produced his high-end camera and discreetly snapped the top images before the gallery owner arrived. He could hear her talking agitatedly in the back.
“Just his usual work,” Gracie said, using her phone to snap more images. She shuffled the sheets to take shots of the ones beneath. “A little larger, better paper.”
Mrs. Janus finally returned to more professionally display the works. “Was there a piece in particular you were interested in?”
“Places familiar to the inhabitants of Afterthought,” Nick said idly, offering no opinion as she switched out the sketches. “We’ll be opening a business there and local art is always a draw. I understood he’d been experimenting with watercolors. Do you have any of those perchance?” He rounded his vowels so well they practically rolled off his lying tongue.
She appeared a little flustered. “We’d hoped to display those at the opening, but they were never delivered. Perhaps you could ask his family?”
“No, they’ve only seen the one,” Gracie said quietly, going back to admire an earlier image. “He had promised them one for the mantel, but it hasn’t been found. It’s a shame these can’t be displayed. His family could use the money.”
Nick hadn’t heard about the mantel sketch, or was she making it up from whole cloth from the antique dealer’s mention of a surprise?
“Well, without the artist—” The gallery owner let that thought drift.
“In London, people would be pounding on the door to buy up any available piece by a dead artist. It isn’t as if there will be more.” Nick stepped back and gestured at Gracie. “Do you see any here that will work with our others?”
She shook her head. “No, but I’ll mention them to the owner’s of these buildings. A catalog to show would have been nice. We’ll have to buy directly from the family, I suppose.”
Nick bit back a grin and gave a mental high five. The teacher might be a bit timid upon occasion, but she wasn’t stupid.
The proprietor was obviously torn between a bird in the hand and a potential flock. “I would be delighted to discount these for a friend of the family.”
Nick pulled out his card case and handed her a card. “We really hoped for the color pieces. If you come across any, give me a call. We appreciate your time.”
He practically dragged Gracie out.
