“I know that the kitchen isn’t historically accurate,” Joseph said sheepishly. “But I needed it to be up to code and with modern appliances if I intend to sell it.”
“Oh, yes,” Carolina said, her smile fading. “Wouldn’t want to turn off prospective buyers.”
“No,” he said, sitting down at a small round table with a file. Joseph opened the file and displayed the pages within.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of tracking down some of the people you spoke of,” he said.
Carolina felt herself dim as she glanced down at the words on the paper. Names that she hadn’t seen in decades. Richard. Leonora. Photos and addresses and even more names that she didn’t recognize.
“You found them?”
Joseph nodded.
“You have a great nephew that’s still alive in New Jersey,” he said. “Richard, I’m sad to say, passed on twenty years ago. He had three sons, and two living granddaughters.”
Carolina felt a great pressure build behind her eyes as she regarded the pages of information. Life had gone on without her.
“I think, with your permission, I would like to send a percentage of the proceeds from your work to your surviving family members,” Joseph ventured.
Carolina nodded. The pressure behind her eyes continued to build, and to her surprise, the sensation of a hot, fat tear welled up in her eyes.
“That would be lovely,” she nodded, wiping at her eyes. There were no tears in her eyes of course, but her answer came out as a choked sob just the same.
Carolina looked up at Joseph and shook her head. She had been demanding. Haughty. Rude. This man, who had already lost so much, had no reason to help her. Yet, he had.
“I’m forever grateful to you, Joseph,” she said, still wiping at her phantom tears.
Their eyes met, and for a moment, Carolina had the urge to reach out and touch his hand. Joseph looked very handsome in his simple sweater and slacks, no doubt in anticipation of his meeting with the art dealer. Something stirred inside of her; a feeling that she had thought was lost to time. She knew the feeling well, and it was something that scared her nearly as much as the gray mist that lurked outside her door.
“I’m sorry that I’ve been so dreadful,” she said.
“I forgive you Carolina,” he said, still staring deeply into her eyes. “I just want to help.”
“It’s just that I..” she started. The moment was disturbed as Boomer’s loud bark echoed through the halls of Jacaranda Manor.
“She’s here!” River called from the front room.
Carolina’s entire face glowed just a little brighter as they broke their gaze. Joseph turned his attention to the front door and sucked in a deep breath.
“Well,” he said, giving her a reassuring look. “It’s show time.”
***
“Joseph! These are positivelygorgeous!”
Emma Westing adjusted her glasses at the bridge of her nose as she examined a painting of the Basilica in downtown St. Augustine.
“The minimalist color palette and impasto strokes are just breathtaking.”
“I’ll take your word for it Mrs?...” Joseph said.
“Call me Emma,” she smiled at him. “I’m not married.”
Carolina narrowed her eyes. So far she had been very pleased with the art dealer, a young, pretty blonde with an earnest midwestern accent. She even appreciated the smart manner in which she wore pants and a bold, colorful top in what must have been the current fashion. However, the more time she watched the art dealer and Joseph interact, the more another long-forgotten feeling made itself known deep down.
“So what’s the next step?” Joseph asked.
“Well, I’ll have my people come and pick these up. We’ll give you a manifest copy of the items and have them professionally cleaned. Normally this sort of thing takes longer but with so much interest in Miss Braun’s work, we’re going to expedite the showing.”
