“Caleb read about the burglaries on the Internet. Did you know the police think the mafia are involved?”
Natalie nodded. “They said something about that.”
“Were they involved?”
“I don’t know and I probably never will. Why were you looking for information about me?”
Gabe relaxed his hands. Poking holes in the packaging wouldn’t help anyone. “I wanted to make sure you were here for the reasons you said you were.”
“Why?”
He looked at the canvases. He couldn’t tell her the whole truth. Not yet. “I had a bad experience with the media. When my second book was published, everyone wanted to know who I was. Some people who I thought were my friends spoke to a reporter. Before I knew it, stories about me started appearing in magazines and newspapers. What the reporter didn’t know, they made up. I came here to get away from all of that.”
“I don’t blame you. It’s hard making new friends when you don’t know who you can trust.”
Gabe studied Natalie’s face. “You have the same problem?”
She nodded. “When I first lived in Europe I didn’t know anyone. After my third or fourth exhibition, I met a couple of people who seemed really nice. Six months later, one of those people sold a story about me to a magazine. I try not to let that experience change how I interact with people, but it’s hard.”
“How do you keep your personal life and public profile separate?”
Natalie shrugged. “I don’t let myself get close to people, but that creates other problems.”
Gabe didn’t say anything. He’d done the same thing and it wasn’t easy. Loneliness snuck up on you so slowly that by the time you were there, it was too late to do anything about it.
“But we’re not here to discuss my depressing personal life,” Natalie said. “Just promise me one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“If you want to know anything about me, just ask. But be warned. If I end up in one of your books, I’ll sue the pants off you.”
Gabe lifted the canvases off the truck. “You won’t end up in one of my books. Where would you like this?”
Natalie opened the back door. “In my studio. It’s the first door on your left.” She raced across to Gabe and grabbed the front of the parcel. “If we carry it together, I won’t feel so bad about keeping you awake.”
“It doesn’t matter. I couldn’t sleep, anyway.” And that, Gabe knew, wouldn’t be changing anytime soon.
* * *
Natalie threw backher blankets and jumped out of bed. Today she was starting her next two paintings. After a quick walk and an even quicker breakfast, she’d take the ideas she’d sketched onto paper and transfer them onto the canvases in her studio.
She was excited to be working on two new projects. But with that excitement came a good dose of fear. Would the paintings live up to her expectations? Would Lorenzo like them enough to add them to her exhibition? And most importantly, would anyone buy them?
She took a deep breath and tried not to think about the things that could go wrong. Her mom called it opening night nerves. Natalie called it her worst nightmare.
After brushing her teeth, she headed outside. It was another glorious summer’s morning. There wasn’t a wisp of wind anywhere. The sky was so blue it hurt her eyes and the sun was already warming her skin.
She took her cell phone out of her pocket and took a photo of the trees. Part of her success as a painter was being able to recreate the texture and feel of the landscapes she painted. As well as sketching lots of different scenes before she started on a canvas, she took hundreds of photos.
The best images made it onto a board in her studio. The others were saved on her computer.
A hawk squawked. She looked across the lake and snapped a series of photos as it circled the water.
“We’ll have to stop meeting like this.”
Natalie held her hand over her heart. “I wish you’d make more noise when you walk toward me.”
“I thought I did, but you were miles away.” Gabe’s smile didn’t stop her from noticing the black circles under his eyes.
