“There’s nothing wrong with people from Vancouver.” Hannah looked into his gray eyes. “You’re worried about her moving away, aren’t you?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You don’t need to,” Hannah sighed. “I’d be worried if Claire fell in love with someone who didn’t live here. But everyone deserves to love and be loved. Besides, you don’t know if it’s that serious.”
Brett took a deep breath. “I’ve seen them together. It’s serious.” He looked at the attic door. “I’d better go.”
“Good luck.”
“Thanks. I’ll need it.”
Hannah hoped he was careful about what he said to Mary-Beth. If his sister was in love, nothing he said would change anything.
She looked at the painting Mary-Beth had helped her move. There was something about it that was familiar, yet different. She studied the canvas again, searching for any clues that might tell her the artist’s name.
The brushstrokes were so delicate. The colors blended effortlessly together, creating one of the most emotionally charged landscapes she’d ever seen. Someone with incredible skill had spent hours on this canvas.
She looked at her watch. As far as she knew, Pat hadn’t arrived home from the retirement village. Before she did anything, she’d wait until he came home. If anyone knew the artist’s name, he would. In the meantime, she’d add the other paintings to her database and get ready for her afternoon in Bozeman.
