1105 Yakima Street - Debbie Macomber [30]
Olivia nodded. “That makes the most sense, doesn’t it?”
“Well, yes.”
Now that she’d acknowledged the problem, much of what had been happening recently suddenly became clear. The fact that Charlotte had left her knitting in the car at Faith and Troy’s wedding, for instance. Her mother was never without her knitting. True, it’d been a traumatic day, since Ben had gone to confront his son David.
If it’d been a single incident, Olivia could easily gloss over it, but there’d been countless other ones. Small things such as forgetting where she’d put Olivia’s quilt fabric. The problem with the laundry. Then there was the fire….
Olivia stood and walked around to her bedside table, where she reached for the phone.
“Who are you calling?”
“My brother. I need Will’s input on this.”
Jack’s eyes met hers. “Time for a family conference,” he said.
Nine
“Oh, what a lovely painting,” the older, smartly dressed woman commented as she walked around the Harbor Street Art Gallery. While Will was out running errands, Miranda Sullivan had removed the Chandler painting from the wall where he’d placed it. Then she hung it on the opposite wall, which—in her humble opinion—showed off the watercolor to its best effect. It was all about the light, her husband used to say, and who’d know that better than an artist like Hugh Sullivan? She noticed how quickly this customer was drawn to the painting.
“You have good taste. This is one of our loveliest pieces,” Miranda said, walking toward the woman. “Welcome to the Harbor Street Gallery. Are you visiting Cedar Cove? I’m Miranda Sullivan.”
“I’m Veronica Vanderhuff. My husband and I recently moved to the area and we’re looking for a few pieces by local artists. Your gallery was recommended.”
“You’ve come to the right place. All the art on display is by local talent. The work you’re admiring is Beverly Chandler’s Girl in Spring.”
“It’s gorgeous.”
“In my view it’s the best painting we currently have.”
Veronica shrugged her slim, elegant shoulders. “I’m almost afraid to ask the price.”
“All our prices are extremely reasonable,” Miranda assured her. She’d love to sell this painting before Will returned. Then she could flaunt the fact that it sold only after she’d hung it on this other wall.
Veronica checked the price list Miranda handed her and seemed pleasantly surprised. “Oh, this is reasonable. I’ll take it.”
Miranda wanted to clap and leap up and down. She’d derive real pleasure from rubbing this in Will’s stubborn face. Not a very commendable impulse, perhaps, but there it was. In all her life, Miranda had yet to meet a man who irritated and enthralled her in equal measure. She found herself highly attracted to this man she didn’t even like. If that wasn’t puzzling enough, he was constantly in her thoughts. She knew it was unlikely that Will would ever look on her as anything more than an employee, and yet she couldn’t seem to help herself. Frustrating, to say the least.
Miranda finished the credit-card transaction and made arrangements to have the painting delivered. Twenty minutes later, Will came back. He walked into the gallery and didn’t bother to greet her, which Miranda considered the height of rudeness. Instead, he went directly to his office, slumping down in his high-backed leather chair.
Miranda followed him, leaning against the doorjamb, crossing her arms. “What’s wrong with you?” she asked bluntly.
Will glanced up, frowning. “I need a few minutes alone,” he mumbled. He slouched forward as though depressed.
Miranda’s sympathies instantly went into action. “Is everything all right with your mother?” She knew Will had been talking with his sister regarding his mother and stepfather. Dealing with the insurance company had demanded a lot of his time and energy. From what Miranda surmised, work in the kitchen was going well, although much more slowly than anyone had expected. But Will shared very little of his personal life with her, so this was based on information she’d managed to pick up from others.
“Mom’s doing fine—not great but