“Donated to St. Jude’s along withThe Prince of Clock Island.”
“Ah. What aboutThe Secret of Clock Island? That’s Christopher’s favorite.”
“Donated to…somewhere.”
Lucy looked at him, suspicious. “Somewhere?”
“Somewhere.”
“Are you not allowed to tell me where?”
“I can tell you. I just don’t want to tell you where.”
“Hugo…”
“The Royal Family has this…you know, drawing-school charity and—”
“Stop right there. I already hate you enough,” Lucy said.
“It’s not that impressive. I mean, it’s not like it’s hanging in Buckingham Palace. Actually, it could be.”
“You can stop talking now.”
“I’ll fetch more biscuits.”
“I was told there might be cheesecake?”
Hugo rolled his eyes. “I’ll fetch the cheesecake.”
While he was out of the studio, Lucy stood up to stretch her back and noticed another painting half-hidden behind an industrial gray storage shelf. She went to it, pulled it out carefully, and saw it was another portrait. She knew that face, those eyes, that sweet nose.
“Ah, Davey,” she said. Lucy heard her host returning, and glanced at him over her shoulder. Hugo wasn’t smiling. “I’m sorry. I was being nosy.”
“It’s all right. It’s a good painting. Just…some days I want to see him. Some days it’s too hard.”
“Can I ask what happened?”
“Sometimes kids with Down syndrome have heart trouble. He was one of the unlucky ones.”
Hugo set the two plates of cheesecake onto the worktable, moving aside a half dozen paint-stained cups and glasses to make room. “When he was fifteen, they decided he wasn’t going to make it much longer without an operation.” He paused. Lucy wanted to reach out and take his hand but knew she shouldn’t. “There were complications, blood clots. He died in the hospital. Mum was with him, but I was over here. Working.”
“I’m so sorry, Hugo.” She touched his arm lightly, but he didn’t respond, just took the painting back out of its hiding spot again. He hung it on the hook that the portrait of Piper had been occupying. “It’s a beautiful portrait.”
“Easy to make something beautiful out of something beautiful.” He was quiet a moment. Then, “Davey would tell strangers on the street that his big brother drew the Clock Island books. He’d go into a bookshopwith Mum, and he’d grab the books off the shelves and walk around, telling everyone who’d listen that his brother drew the pictures. One woman asked him for his autograph. It made his year.” He smiled, then the smile faded. “Jack was a prince when it happened. Absolute legend. He paid for the funeral, paid for me to fly over, paid off my mother’s house because there was no chance in hell she’d be able to work for months, as hard as she took it. He saved us both.”
Lucy knew she was treading close to dangerous waters. Open wounds needed careful handling. “Ah, no wonder you moved in when Jack was struggling,” she said softly.
“I owed him so much. And I never thought it would…” He looked out the studio window toward the ocean that had killed Autumn and carried Piper away from him. “I thought he’d come through it faster than he did. I don’t even know if he is through it yet or if he’s putting on a show for my sake so I can leave without feeling like I’m abandoning him.”
“He’s the Mastermind, remember?” Lucy picked up her plate of cake and gave the other one to Hugo, trying to get a smile out of him again. It worked. “You can guess all you want, but you’ll never know what he’s really up to.”
“I’ll eat cheesecake to that.” They clinked their forks and dove in.
—
After another forty minutesand a few thousand calories of cheesecake, Lucy had five paintings picked out from Hugo’s archives. He flipped through her choices.
“Ah,Goblin Night on Clock Island,” Hugo said, nodding his approval. “One of my favorites too.”
