He made a surprised noise in the back of his throat and dropped the paper into my hands.
Here is it, I thought, as a little joy peeked through my anxiety. My entire summer’s plans were wrecked over this. I could’ve lost everything. Then again, if I hadn’t come home, I would’ve never reconnected with the Wags.
I wouldn’t have found Seb.
“Thank you so much, Mr. Lee,” I said, meaning it.
“Of course, it’s no problem. Least I can do to help out...”
He couldn’t say “my daughter.” That wasn’t a surprise.
“To help outyou,” he finished. “What are you studying out there? Law?”
“God no. Art history.”
He laughed, and I felt embarrassed for a moment. “Oh, I’m sorry, sugar. I just didn’t expect it. You know, my wife likes art. We’ve got a few nice pieces in the house. Let me show you, come on.”
I didn’t want to see them, I wanted to get the hell out of there. But as I folded up the signed paper, I felt some twinge of responsibility to placate him. The least I could do, I supposed, and maybe it would give me the opportunity to quiz him about why Pretty Paul had visited him out here last night.
I followed him back into the foyer, where he took me to a boring Ellsworth Kelly knockoff. “I think she paid around ten for this one,” he said. “We had it appraised last year for fifteen.”
“It’s...”
“A good example of early-eighties minimalism—that’s what my wife says. I know nothing about art.” He smiled and gave me an odd look that I couldn’t interpret. Then his face widened. “Oh! I’ve got an even better one you need to see, the crown jewel of my wife’s collection. Real quick, you’ll be impressed, I promise. Up here.”
He headed to the staircase and jogged upstairs, but I didn’t want to follow. I just wanted to leave.
But Iwascurious to find out why Paul was here.
Reluctantly I looped my cross-body purse strap across my torso and climbed the stairs, taking out my phone halfway up to check my messages. One from Seb an hour ago:Where are you?And several missed calls from both him and Benny.Crap.I should’ve toldSeb where I was going and not just run out like that, but luckily everything worked out fine. As soon as I got back to the Corvair, I’d phone Seb and tell him the whole thing.
“Down the hall, this way,” my father called back at me.
He was walking fast, and his mood was a little hyper. Maybe he was always like this. I followed him past palm trees and several open bedroom doors to a room at the end of the hall.
“In here,” he motioned. “I just know you’re going to appreciate this...”
Cautious, I stepped into a bedroom with sparse contemporary furniture. Maybe a guest room, considering how soulless and clean it was. The only good thing about it was a balcony on the back wall with French doors. The balcony overlooked the pool in the backyard, and beyond it, Reeds Lake.
“Here it is,” my father said, standing in front of a textured beach landscape that looked as if it had been painted by someone with double vision. Two suns. Two women lying on the sand. Two palm trees. “A Brazilian painter did it, he’s supposed to be a big deal. What do you think?”
“Interesting brushwork. What’s the name of the artist?”
“Hmm, can’t remember...” He squinted at the messy signature in the corner of the painting. “Can never read these things, can you? But I can look it up really fast. Do you mind, can I see your phone for just a sec?”
My phone?I still held it in my hand and wish I could’ve hidden it, especially the way my pulse was swishing rapidly inside my temples. But he just reached out and took it out of my fingers like it was nothing. Like we were oh so close and borrowed phones all day long.
“Hey—”
“Before we look up the artist, here’s a question for you,” he said, cutting me off.
A fresh layer of panic built up inside me when he smiled and held the phone away from me as if he were dangling a carrot. “You hear about that gold bar that was found downtown?”
My heart raced inside my chest. I swallowed hard and asked, “Is that why Paul Vanderburg showed up here yesterday?”
“Paul Vanderburg? Now that’s a name I haven’t heard in a while.”
Absolute liar. “Oh, really?”
