“Good.” Grant pulled back enough to see her face. “Because I already told the remaining artists you have the prime spot at the festival. Would’ve been awkward to explain your empty wall space.”
“Always so practical.”
“Someone has to be.” His thumb brushed her cheek. “You artists are all emotion and impulsive.”
“Says the man who just burst through my door.”
“I knocked. Mostly.”
“You didn’t.”
“Ithoughtabout knocking.”
She laughed again. When had laughter become so easy? “Thank you. For defending me at Harbor Brew. And today, when you had a bit of an artists’ mutiny.”
“Thank you for staying. For being brave enough to fight.”
“I’m not brave.”
“No?” Grant tilted his head. “Then what do you call this?”
“Tired of being afraid.” She leaned into his warmth. “Winnie said sometimes we need to take a stand.”
“Wise woman.”
“The wisest.” Emily looked up at him. “Kiss me?”
His lips met hers. Gentle. Sure. Outside, a car passed on the coastal road. The suitcase sat open on the floor, already looking like it belonged to someone else.
Chapter26
Emily stared at the stack of papers Margaret Stone had spread across Winnie’s kitchen table. Grant sat next to his mother as Margaret sorted documents into neat stacks, each one tabbed and highlighted.
“I’ve always been good at research. Thirty years as a librarian teaches you to spot inconsistencies.” Margaret adjusted her reading glasses and tapped a highlighted passage.
The kitchen smelled of Winnie’s fresh coffee and something cinnamon baking in the oven. Normal, comforting scents that made the documents feel even more surreal.
“Julian Holloway claimed you manipulated his father in his final months. But look at these dates.” Margaret’s voice stayed neutral, presenting facts rather than judgment.
Emily leaned forward. The timeline Margaret had constructed showed Emily’s work schedule at the school.
“You were teaching full-time during most of the period Julian references.” Margaret pointed to another column. “These are your class schedules, faculty meeting minutes, even parking garage records. You couldn’t have been spending excessive time with Franklin when you were demonstrably elsewhere.”
Margaret had done this for her.This woman she barely knew had spent hours—maybe days—piecing together evidence.
“There’s more. Julian’s initial accusations came six months after his father’s death, right after the estate valuation showed Franklin’s final works were worth considerably more than expected.”
Grant moved closer, his hand finding Emily’s shoulder. She leaned into it as Margaret continued.
“The timing suggests financial motivation rather than genuine concern about artistic integrity. A son who rarely visited his father suddenly becoming protective of his legacy? Only after learning its monetary value?”
She remembered those awful months and the shock of Julian’s accusations. The way her colleagues had distanced themselves. Daniel’s cold announcement that he wanted a divorce and needed to protect his career.
Margaret produced a photocopy of a handwritten note. “I also found this. Franklin’s letter to the Art Institute, dated three months before his death. He specifically requested you as his collaborator and outlined exactly what he wanted you to complete.”
Emily read Franklin’s familiar scrawl twice before the words registered.My dear student Emily has the skill and sensitivity to finish what my failing body cannot. This is my wish, freely given.
“Julian would have received copies of all estate documents.” Winnie leaned over the table. “He knew about this letter.”
