Page 110 of Fresh Canvas
“Thank you, but I’ve got to check on the kitchen.” I rushed to the elevator, swiped my keycard, abused the button repeatedly, and prayed he hadn’t followed.
But instead of going down to the kitchen, I pressed the button for the third floor. Ineededoxygen. I needed Lake Attersee, even if it was just a forgery.
The Vanderbilt wing stood deserted, with only motion-activated lights and the fading sun lighting the space.
Sighing at the familiar blue waters, I kicked off my heels and relished the cold marble with my aching toes. I stood for a long moment, trying to ease the even worse ache in my chest. Val had no right to approach me. Not tonight. What even was that?
I angrily swiped my tears away only to have them replaced by more. The sounds of happy guests from below felt like an attack. It was all too much.
Through blurry eyes, I plucked the higher-clearance keycard from my purse and scanned it beside Rick’s closet. Leaving my shoes behind, I shut myself in the closet, barefoot and broken.
A good cry was just what I needed. I was tired of pretending to be so strong all the time. Of acting like it didn’t feel like a razor blade to my heart when I saw Val every day.
How long would it take until his ghost left my heart? I realized he never would. After all, ghosts never left their haunting grounds.
I cursed the smudges of mascara coming away on my fingers. With no mirror in the closet, I guessed I probably lookedlike a drowned raccoon. Maybe I could find a box of paper products? This was a storage closet, after all.
I began to explore, a bittersweet smile blooming when I found a mini-fridge humming with several lemonade bottles inside. Shelves of cleaning supplies, jugs of industrial cleaners, and even a random chess set littered the shelves. A set of cobwebbed golf clubs leaned against a cabinet.
Rick, you old coot.
Shadows loomed in the back of the closet, the only bulb too far away to fully illuminate the deep, narrow space. I searched the shelves spanning the rear wall before I found a promising box on the bottom shelf stamped with a toiletry company’s logo. I stooped to pull out the box.
“Bingo.”
Industrial-sized toilet paper rolls. Small mounds of used tissue grew on the floor beside me as I wiped my eyes and blew my nose. Satisfied, I kneeled back down, my knee slipping through the slit of my dress. As I pushed the heavy box back on the shelf, I stopped and tilted my head in confusion. Although I couldn’t quite make it out, something lurked in the shadow behind the box.
I gasped.
It was a roll of canvas, about two feet long, covered in a fine layer of dust. The edges of the scroll were frayed from neglect and age. Like a shaking moth to a flame, I drew it off the shelf and unrolled it.
It was a Cormac Padraig painting.
ApricelessCormac Padraig.
The Irish artist had been world-renowned in the early nineteen-hundreds.
I tried in vain to still my trembling hands.
“This can’t be here.” My eyes flitted over the small masterpiece. This wasn’t just a painting. It was a piece of history. A piece of history that needed protection, anti-humidity chambers, reparations and monitoring. Not to be stored in Rick’s musty closet.
I fumbled for an explanation until I noticed my brain was screaming at me. Therewasno explanation. This wasn’t a museum oversight. No, this had been intentional.
Cursing the destructive oils from my fingers, I carefully rolled it and placed it back onto the shelf. Judging from the layer of dust, it had been there for a very long time.
My head felt woozy as I snapped a few pictures. Not knowing what else to do at the moment, I slid the toilet paper box back onto the shelf in an effort to hide it—for now.
Lake Attersee had been the tip of the freaking iceberg.
What was the Cormac Padraig doing here? Who had stowed it in Rick’s closet, of all places? Did Rick steal it? Was the museum an art laundering front or something? Just how many staff members were involved? My mouth ran dry, unable to swallow.
Did Val know?
My face drew taut. Ofcoursehe knew.Rick had to have been covering for him. Why else would it be stored here, of all places?
My stomach twisted so violently, I had to clamp my jaw and breathe through my nose for a few minutes.
I wanted to squeeze my eyes shut and pretend I had never found it. I wished I had stayed in the Bloomburg wing, choosing to sob over Val in front of Stirling’s guests than to have made this sickening discovery.
