Holly’s jaw dropped as she stared at her reflection. “Is that really me?”
Emily nodded. “If you’d asked me to design a wedding dress for you, I couldn’t have done any better. You look amazing.”
Holly’s eyes darted to Hannah. “What do you think?”
“You’re beautiful.” She wiped her eyes and blew her nose. “The dress is perfect.”
The bride-to-be looked at her reflection. “This is everything I wanted.”
Hannah grinned at her friend. “So what are you saying to this dress?”
Holly laughed. “I’m saying yes to this dress. I don’t care how much it costs.”
“In that case,” Emily said, “I’m pleased to tell you it won’t cost anything.”
Holly gasped. “I can’t let you do that.”
“Daniel told me the name of the magazine that has exclusive rights to your wedding photos. The publicity from those images will more than cover the cost of the dress.”
“Are you sure?”
“More than sure. I’m just happy you wanted to wear one of my gowns.”
Hannah passed Holly a bunch of tissues.
“Thank you.” Holly hugged Emily, then opened her arms to Hannah. “It’s time for a group hug. I’m getting married!”
Hannah hugged her friends tightly. It seemed like a lifetime ago that Holly had joined her and Claire to trial an online dating app. And now, more than eighteen months later, she was getting ready to marry the man of her dreams.
***
Hannah sat on the sofa in the living room. Mary-Beth had driven home half an hour ago after they’d finished dinner. Whatever Brett had said to his sister didn’t seem to have upset her.
After she’d left, Brett carried the mystery painting they’d found in the attic into the living room.
Pat looked carefully at the front and back of the painting, trying to find any clues about the identity of the artist. “Ida and I didn’t buy the painting,” he murmured. “My grandmother brought it with her from Connecticut. It hung in her formal dining room for years.”
Brett tilted his head to the side, staring intently at the canvas. “It’s similar to the big painting in your office.” He pointed at the gray clouds looming above the mountains. “It looks as though a huge storm is coming. The sunlight breaking across the mountains should have brightened the landscape, but somehow it makes it even moodier.”
“It’s the shadows,” Hannah said slowly. “The sunlight creates more shadows than the storm clouds. It’s the opposite of what you think should happen.”
Pat sat in his chair. “The painting in my office is by Albert Bierstadt. I’ve never heard of anyone owning one of his paintings that wasn’t signed.”
“Maybe he didn’t like this painting when it was finished,” Brett suggested. “I wouldn’t want anyone knowing I’d painted something I wasn’t happy about.”
Hannah reached for her laptop. She typed Albert Bierstadt’s name into the search bar and scrolled through the results. “This might help.”
Brett walked away from the painting and sat beside her. “What have you found?”
“Someone has listed every canvas he ever painted.” Hannah clicked through the first four pages of images.
“How many paintings are there?” Brett asked.
Hannah looked at the numbers running along the bottom of the page. “Lots.”
Pat sipped his coffee. “Bierstadt painted hundreds of images of the American West. Some critics said his canvases were too dramatic and verged on being expressionistic. But he studied under a German romantic painter—what did they expect? Ida and I always enjoyed the Bierstadt we bought at auction.”
“Do you think this could be an unsigned canvas?” Hannah asked.
