Dawn Stewardson (18 page)

“You knew I’d
want
to be? How about I’d kill to be? But you told him I won’t know for sure if it’s authentic. That I’ll only be able to give him my opinion.”

“Your
expert
opinion.”

Marisa smiled. “Even if there doesn’t turn out to be any painting, I’m glad you invited me to come. I want a chance to get to know Sully, because the way you two look at each other…”

“What? What about it?”

Marisa laughed. “I don’t know how you’re going to work everything out, but the way you look at each other makes me think Mom and Dad are going to have some adjusting to do.”

“You think they can?” Lauren asked quietly.

“What choice do they have?”

“Oh, Dad might decide to disown me.”

“Don’t be melodramatic, little sister. He loves you too much to even consider it.”

“That’s not the way it usually looks from my side of the fence.”

Marisa eyed her for a moment, then shook her head. “Lauren, there’s absolutely no doubt about how much he loves you. I know the way he acts, it’s a little hard to tell sometimes, but… Why do
you
think he’s never accepted the fact that you’re all grown-up?”

“Because he doesn’t believe I can do anything right.”

“No, that isn’t really it. That’s only what he tells himself. The truth is, if he admits his baby is an adult, he might have to admit he’s getting older. And he just, oh, you know Dad. The problem lies with him, not with you, so you really have to try to not let it bother you.”

“Well, thanks for your analysis, Ms. Freud,” Lauren teased.

“Anytime.”

Marisa turned and started for her Jaguar, while Lauren climbed into the van beside Sully.

“What was your sister talking about?” he asked.

She glanced back at Billy and Hoops. They were both busily making a fuss over Roxy, so she quietly said, “Marisa was giving me a pep talk. Telling me that even though it doesn’t always seem like it, my father loves me.”

Sully smiled at her. “Of course he does. Nobody in the world could help loving you.”

She leaned back against the seat, so warm and happy inside that the feeling lasted the entire way to Eagles Roost.

S
ULLY HADN’T ENTIRELY
let himself believe the story about the painting until they examined the cellar wall. But knowing where to check, they discovered a section behind the sixth step from the top that looked as if it had once been tampered with—as if part of the wall might have been drilled out and the surface resealed.

The area was about three feet across and close to a foot high. According to Marisa, the height was necessary because the painting would be stretched flat inside a wooden crate—with space above and below the canvas so that nothing was touching it.

Actually seeing the wall had made Sully decide there just had to be something hidden there. And now, as he chipped away at the plaster and lath with a hammer and chisel, his heart was pounding.

“Do you have enough room to work?” Lauren asked.

He nodded, even though she, Marisa and all five boys were tightly packed into the space under the stairs with him. Nobody wanted to miss a second of the excitement. He only wished everyone wasn’t
quite
as excited.

He’d explained to the boys that even if they did unearth a valuable painting he wouldn’t get to keep it if it legally belonged to Warren Russell’s estate.

But they’d apparently decided to ignore that possibility. As far as they were concerned, whatever was in the wall was bound to be the Eagles Roost program’s salvation.

He chipped away a few more chunks of plaster, then a larger one cracked free. When he pulled it off, he could see an inch or two of smooth metal.

The collective intake of breath told him the others had seen it, too.

“Is that it?” Freckles whispered. “Is that the painting?”

“No,” Marisa said, “that would be an outside case of metal, which means they were being very careful. If art is stored in wooden crates alone, sometimes mice or rats get in and chew the canvas.”

Sully began chipping faster, then told himself to calm down—reminding himself again that regardless of what the painting was worth it might not be his. Trying to keep that in mind, he continued working until the last inch of plaster broke free and the entire width of the metal case was exposed.

“Slide it out,” Lauren whispered.

There was barely room to slip his fingers between the sides of the opening and the edges of the case, but he managed it. Then he wiggled the case forward until enough of it was protruding from the wall that he could grab the end and pull it forward.

When he got it out, it proved to be a little more than three feet long and a little less than three feet wide. It weighed a fair bit, because of the metal, but wasn’t too heavy to manage.

“Let’s take it upstairs where the light’s better,” Marisa suggested excitedly. “Open it up there.”

He nodded, even though he was dying to open it right this second. The boys dashed up the stairs and into the kitchen, the three adults on their heels.

Sully laid the case flat on the kitchen table, then stood staring at it—suddenly afraid to open it. What if it
was
a van Gogh? But then what if it
did
turn out that he had no claim to it?

“If you use a knife to slit that sealer,” Marisa finally said, “I think you should be able to ease the cover off.”

Billy raced over to the counter and returned with a knife.

Sully took it from him, carefully slit the seal all the way around, then tried to lift the metal top from the case. It was tight, but he gradually worked it free. Then he took out the wooden crate that was inside and used a screwdriver to pry the lid.

His heart pounding again, he lifted the lid and revealed the painting inside.

“Wow,” Lauren whispered.

“It’s amazing,” Marisa said.

“Is it good?” Billy demanded. “Is it famous? If we get to keep it are we going to be rich?”

Nobody responded for a minute. Finally Marisa said, “We won’t know if it’s authentic until it’s been examined by experts, and that process takes weeks. But…oh, I forgot. Boys, I brought some cases of pop and bags of chips and things for you. They’re in my trunk. Here,” she added, handing Freckles her keys. “How about everyone going out and helping to bring them in.”

As they raced away, Sully shot Marisa a grateful smile for giving him a few minutes without their questions. Then he went back to staring at the painting. It was a portrait of a man, painted predominantly in blues and yellows. And even though he was no art expert, if someone had asked him to guess the artist, his first guess would have been Vincent van Gogh.

“What do you think?” Lauren asked, turning to her sister.

Sully looked at Marisa, as well.

“I think it’s either a first-rate imitation…or the real thing.”

“The real thing,” he repeated, trying not to let himself feel too elated. But even if it didn’t turn out to be his, having discovered a previously unknown van Gogh would be pretty amazing. And if it did turn out that he owned it…

“And the real thing,” he said at last, “would be worth a couple of million dollars or so, wouldn’t it?”

Marisa smiled. “You’re a bit low. A van Gogh not unlike this one, a portrait of Dr. Gachet, sold for over eighty-two million. And that was over twenty years ago now.”

M
ARISA HAD GONE
outside saying she wanted the boys to give her a tour of the great outdoors. Lauren knew, though, she’d actually wanted to give her and Sully some time alone together.

She watched him staring at the painting for a few moments, then said, “What are you thinking about?”

He smiled at her. “Something I shouldn’t be. Grace is always warning the boys not to count their chickens before they’ve hatched. But I was thinking about what would happen if this turns out to be authentic. And if it turns out to belong to me, not Warren Russell’s estate.”

“What would happen?”

Sully wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “The first thing that would happen is I’d ask you to marry me.”

Her heart began beating faster than a hummingbird’s wings. “Sully?” she murmured. “Why don’t you ask me, anyway?”

He kissed the top of her head. “Because we’re a dolphin and a meadowlark, remember? Because we haven’t had time, yet, to figure out how things could work with you in New York most of the time and me here. Because—”

“Because you’re still worried that I have money and you don’t?”

Drawing back a few inches, he looked at her, his expression serious. “Yeah, that too.”

“It’s an awfully outdated attitude, you know,” she said quietly.

“I know. But knowing that doesn’t magically make it go away. I’m still working on adjusting my thinking, though. And with luck, I’ll turn out to be the owner of an extremely valuable painting—which would make my outdated attitude irrelevant.”

She nodded. But they could hardly count on the painting being either genuine or Sully’s. So what if he ended up deciding he couldn’t live with her having money? That possibility terrified her, because if she couldn’t have him… Oh, it was too horrible to even think about.

“Sully?” she asked again. “Would you still love me if I suddenly had no money?”

“Of course. It’s you I love, not your money. If that’s what I was after, your being rich wouldn’t bother me, would it?”

“No, it wouldn’t. Because, as you said, it’s me you love. The same way it’s you I love, not
your
money.”

He grinned at her. “I don’t have any.”

“That’s my point. I love you now, but I’ll still love you if that painting is authentic and you get to keep it and you suddenly have ninety million dollars.”

“That’s not the same thing at all.”

“Yes. It is. Sully, let’s get married before we know anything more about the painting.”

“Lauren, that’s crazy. It—”

“No, it’s not. What if you’re suddenly so rich you can have your pick of any woman in the world?”

“I’d pick you.”

“Then pick me now. Because I’m the same woman I’ll be a month from now or a year from now, and you’re the same man. Regardless of anybody’s money.”

“But there’s still everything else to worry about. You can’t want to live here at Eagles Roost and—”

“Why can’t I want to live here? I love it here. I could do an awful lot of the foundation work without being anywhere near the Van Slyke Building.”

“You’re really serious, aren’t you,” Sully murmured.

She nodded, desperately afraid she was pushing harder than she should, but just as afraid that if she didn’t, this was going to be the end, instead of the beginning, of the rest of their lives.

“You’d be giving up a lot, leaving the city,” he said.

Her heart skipped three beats. He was saying she’d be giving up things, not that the idea was out of the question.

“I’d be gaining more,” she whispered. “I’d be gaining you, and that would be worth whatever I had to give up.”

“You love me that much?”

“I love you more than that much, Sully. I love you more than I knew it was possible to love someone.”

When he slowly smiled, she felt bubbly inside. When he leaned closer to kiss her, though, she pressed her fingers to his lips.

She might be insanely in love, but that didn’t make her
completely
insane. And she didn’t want to him thinking she could change her entire lifestyle with the snap of her fingers.

“Sully? This isn’t a one-way deal.
Some
of my work is still going to have to be done in the city, and I’d definitely end up staying there overnight now and then. Plus, I know I’m going to need the occasional culture fix. And visits with my family. And time with my friends. So I’d keep my apartment. And as for the lodge… Sully, all those dead animal heads on the wall in the lounge have
got
to go.”

He smiled again. “I take it that isn’t negotiable?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Well, I guess if I was getting you, I could live without them. Is that everything, though?”

“Just about. We’d have to train Roxy not to chase Killer.”

“I think we could manage that.”

“All right. Then the only other thing is that I’d want you to promise you’d spend at least the odd weekend in Manhattan with me.”

“How odd?” he teased.

Her heart began to sing, and she finally decided it was safe to let herself smile back at him. “Should I assume you’re willing to go halfway on this, then?” she murmured.

His kiss said he most definitely was.

The beginning of the rest of their lives

G
LANCING AROUND
the Van Slykes’s penthouse apartment, Lauren’s arm linked through his, Sully was having trouble suppressing a grin. Despite her mother’s protestations that it was impossible to plan a wedding in less than a year, Lauren had gotten everything done within the space of five weeks. But even without taking that into consideration, he knew this couldn’t possibly be a typical Van Slyke wedding.

In the first place, Lauren wasn’t wearing a traditional white gown. She’d chosen a gorgeous dress that was pale yellow—because he’d once mentioned that he loved her in yellow.

In the second place, even though her mother had told her a hundred times that the bride and groom weren’t supposed to see each other before the ceremony, Lauren had said she wasn’t going to miss a minute of the fun and that the two of them would mingle with the guests as they arrived.

The other aspect of their wedding that wasn’t typically Van Slyke was the guest list. Oh, all of Lauren’s close relatives were here, along with her friends, Rosalie, friends of the family, and the board members of the Van Slyke Foundation.

But not Hunter Clifton, of course. Aside from anything else, he was no longer a board member. He’d resigned after he’d been charged with conspiracy to commit a felony and with counseling a youth to commit a crime—both very serious charges, according to Elliot, which were going to result in a jail term when Hunter was convicted.

Sully glanced around again, making sure his kids were all behaving. They, of course, were part of what made this an unusual guest list for the Van Slykes. And in addition to the boys, Grace and Otis were here, along with a goodly number of Sully’s friends and neighbors.

A few of them, like old Zeke Scrouthy, were wandering around wearing stunned expressions. Not long after Zeke had arrived, he’d taken Sully aside to ask him why the Van Slykes would want to rattle around in a two-story apartment that was bigger than the Newcomb Hotel.

Looking across the living room to where Roger and Susannah were talking with Marisa and her boyfriend, Sully couldn’t help thinking that things had gone far better with Lauren’s family than he’d dared hope. Marisa and Elliot had been great right from the start. And once Roger and Susannah had quit fighting the fact that Lauren was determined to marry him, they’d made an obvious attempt to accept him.

He forced his attention back to the moment and tuned in on what Lauren and her great-aunt Dorothy were chatting about.

Aunt Dorothy, whom he’d guess was about eighty years old, was wearing a dead fox around her neck. He didn’t think the animal heads Lauren had made him take down from the lounge had looked any worse than that, but he knew better than to voice his opinion.

He listened for a couple of minutes, while Aunt Dorothy talked about her problems with getting exactly the right accommodations on her upcoming cruise, then his thoughts drifted to the painting.

It had been three days, now, since the art experts had declared it an authentic van Gogh, but he was still having trouble believing it really was.

As for the question of ownership, Lauren had suggested waiting until they were certain that it was genuine before asking Elliot to look into that. She’d had a feeling they might jinx things, otherwise. At any rate, while Elliot had promised to have one of his friends, a top-notch estate lawyer, check into the specifics, he hadn’t gotten back to them yet.

Until that happened, Sully knew he wouldn’t be able to stop worrying. It would hardly be the end of the world if the painting wasn’t legally his, but he’d feel a lot better if it was. Because as hard as he’d tried he just hadn’t been able to shake his uneasiness about marrying money when he had none himself.

He looked at Lauren, thinking how much he loved her and how much he wanted her to be happy with him. He intended to do whatever it took to ensure she was, and if that came down to shoving his uneasiness into the dark recesses of his mind and forcing every last one of his concerns to stay there, he’d just have do his best to manage that.

Lost in thought, he didn’t realize Elliot and Ursula had arrived until they were standing in front of him. Elliot shook his hand and kissed Lauren and Aunt Dorothy. Ursula kissed all three of them, then dragged Aunt Dorothy off, saying she wanted to tell her what the children had been up to.

“I’ve got something for you, Sully,” Elliot said, taking a fat envelope from his inside pocket. “It’s an opinion letter on the issue of ownership.”

His chest suddenly felt so tight he could hardly breathe. He told himself Elliot wouldn’t give him bad news fifteen minutes before the marriage ceremony, but he was still afraid to reach for the envelope.

“Sully?” Lauren murmured, lightly poking him in the ribs.

He made himself stick his hand out and take the letter, made himself open the envelope and unfold the pages inside, made himself read.

Sully silently handed the letter to Lauren, desperately trying to contain his excitement—because part of what was in that letter made him extremely anxious.

“Elliot?” he said as Lauren read the letter. “Why does he stress that it’s only his opinion? That sounds as if he’s not certain.”

“Is he, Elliot?” Lauren said, looking up from the letter.

When Sully glanced at her, her face was so pale that his heart sank. He’d been right to be anxious. The painting wasn’t definitely his. When he took her hand she squeezed his so hard it hurt.

“Elliot,” she said again, “your friend thinks the ownership will be contested, doesn’t he?”

“No, although it’s always possible.” Elliot smiled, then added, “But I think it’s awfully unlikely. And all Marcus is saying when he stresses it’s only his opinion is that he can’t state it as a legal certainty. But there really doesn’t seem to be anyone to contest anything. The Russells never had children. And when Hettie died, she left everything to a hospital.”

“Then,” Lauren said, “the hospital board will—”

“Uh-uh,” Elliot interrupted, still smiling. “The hospital no longer exists. It was torn down ten years ago, so in
my
legal opinion, Sully is home free.”

Sully wasn’t sure which of them moved first, but Lauren was suddenly in his arms, half laughing and half crying against his chest. He felt like both laughing and crying himself, but she seemed to be doing a good enough job for both of them so he simply held her—feeling happier than he’d ever felt before in his life. He was about to marry the woman he’d never expected to find. The woman he loved more than life itself.

“You know,” he finally whispered to her, “I’ve been thinking a lot about what I’d do if the painting
did
turn out to be mine.”

“And what did you decide?” she whispered back.

“Well, I was wondering if you could handle being director of
two
foundations.”

“Maybe. If I had enough staff. Why?”

“Because I’d like to use the bulk of whatever that van Gogh’s worth to set up The Frank Watson Memorial Foundation. And have it fund all kinds of programs for kids. Maybe award scholarships, too.”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea. But could you use a bit of the money to add a new wing to the lodge?”

“You mean expand the Eagles Roost program?”

“Well, we could, but what I actually meant was that you’re so wonderful with kids it would be a crime not to have some of our own.”

“Lauren,” he said, tilting her face up so she’d see he was teasing, “first you rush me into marrying you and now you want to rush me into having a family. I’m afraid to think what will be next.”

“You know what I’m afraid of, Sully?”

He shook his head, worried that she suddenly seemed so serious.

Then she smiled one of her fantastic smiles and said, “Absolutely nothing. As long as I’ve got you, I’m not afraid of anything in the world.”

“Ditto,” he whispered, forgetting all about the apartment full of people and proceeding to kiss her breathless.