“We already have a wealthy local doctor that wants first dibs on the lighthouse painting,” Emma continued. “Oh! And that reporter I was telling you about is here. You’re going to do very well tonight Joseph.”
“Thanks,” he said, scratching the back of his head. “It’s really Carolina Braun’s night though. She should get all the credit.”
“Oh, I know!” Emma exclaimed. “So sad! So tragic! Such a talent. And gone too soon.”
“Yes,” Joseph said, turning his head back toward her. “Carolina is exceptional.”
Carolina felt herself go all glowy again as their eyes locked. Just then, the honey-sweet voice of the art curator broke their trance, and Carolina’s spirit was brought back down to Earth again.
“I’m going to have Jules open up!” Emma said, placing a hand on Joseph’s shoulder. “Good luck!”
Carolina scowled again at the exuberant, lively woman and wandered off down the gallery hall to get a better look at her paintings. They were all there; the beach scenes, the church, the lighthouse, the old fort. Each brush stroke brought back memories; each painting displayed to show the progression of her talent through the years. When she got to the end, Carolina realized two paintings were missing.
“Joseph,” she whispered, though no one but him and River could hear. “Where’s the paintings of the manor and mother?”
Patrons had begun to file into the studio space one-by-one as Emma greeted them. River sat in a corner with a plate full of snacks and a book. Joseph leaned over and whispered back.
“I wanted to keep them,” he said. “I figured a few of your works should stay with the manor. I thought maybe you would want to keep a painting of your mother.”
Carolina glowed all over again. The portrait of Eudora Braun was one of her favorites, with her mother propped on the edge of her chaise lounge and staring dreamily out of the front picture window.
“Thank you, Joseph,” she said, taking in the crowd of people as they admired her work. “This is all so unreal. It’s like a dream.”
“You’re telling me,” he snorted.
Joseph and Carolina stood side-by-side and watched and listened as dozens of people huddled through the gallery to quietly nod and speak in hushed tones about her paintings. They stood there, saying nothing and everything as the rest of the world passed by, simply enjoying each others’ presence and the moment. Carolina could have stayed in that moment forever, surrounded by music and art with Joseph at her side. It was the happiest her spirit had been in a long, long time.
Chapter Twelve
“Can you believe everysingle painting sold?”
Joseph grinned from ear-to-ear as he loaded a sleepy-looking River into the back seat of the Jeep later that night. The waning moon hung high over downtown St. Augustine, bathing the city in soft silver light as Carolina hovered nearby. His ghostly companion had been quiet all evening at her art showing, which Joseph assumed was because he and River were the only ones that could see or hear her. Now back at his car with no one else around, Joseph sensed that something might be wrong with the usually talkative and animated specter.
“That’s wonderful,” she said, her form glimmering in the moonlight.
“Emma said that every painting sold well over list price,” Joseph said, his mind racing a mile a minute. “The lighthouse painting alone sold for over a hundred thousand dollars!”
