On Sunset Beach (27 page)

C
ARLY
had barely gotten to the carriage house on Friday morning for her appointment with Tony Rosetti when she heard a firm rap on the door a mere second before it opened.

“Miss Summit?” A tall, somewhat gangly woman somewhere between fifty and seventy stood in the doorway, a large leather portfolio in her left hand.

“Yes, I’m Carly Summit.” She inwardly groaned. Somehow she knew what was coming.

“I’m Hazel Stevens. I was told I’d find you here.” The woman walked into the room, leaving the door to bang shut behind her. “Ed Lassiter’s wife told me I could bring my paintings down here for you to look at and you’d hang ’em in the great hall over there in the mansion.”

The entire time she was talking, Hazel was taking in the carriage house from the roof to the floor. She appeared unimpressed.

“Yes, we are looking for some works by local artists for the exhibit, yes,” Carly told her. “There will be a piece in the
Gazette
this week inviting people to bring there work down for me to—”

“I heard all that from Shelly—Ed’s wife—but I thought, why wait and take the chance that all the spots will be filled up?” She looked around for a flat surface and, finding none, moved two sawhorses close together and laid the portfolio open across them. “Now, I don’t know how many of these you’re going to want, but I know you’ll want at least three of them.”

She held up the first one, then another, then a third watercolor painting of—Grace had called it correctly—cats. Carly had nothing against cats. She liked cats. Hazel’s cats were scary, with large yellow eyes that leaped off the paper.

“Ah …” Carly searched for something to say, but no words came out.

“You’re speechless, right?” Hazel beamed. “I knew it. I knew you weren’t expecting to find talent like this in St. Dennis.”

Carly cleared her throat and took each painting in turn in her hands and held it up as if studying it critically.

“That’s Bitsy, that one there with the black face,” Hazel pointed out. “She’s my baby doll.”

Bitsy was perhaps the scariest of all. Surely the cat herself was a sweet animal. It was her owner’s portrayal that was eerie. Carly put the painting back on the open portfolio and turned the same critical eye onto the next one.

“Now this would be …?”

“Fancy Nancy. I called her that because I always thought calicos looked like they were all dressed up in fancy clothes.”

“I see. Yes.” Carly nodded. “I can see where you’d think that.”

Fancy Nancy was less scary than Bitsy but not by much. It was a shame Hazel wasn’t more of an artist, Carly thought. Her cats were probably very beautiful.

“Tiger, Tiger, Burning Bright,” Hazel said.

“Excuse me?”

“That’s the tiger cat in that last picture. That’s her name.”

“Oh. Of course. I get it.” No, she didn’t really. “Do you mind if I look at whatever else you have in your portfolio?”

“Oh, help yourself.” Hazel reached for her painting of her tiger cat and watched over Carly’s shoulder as the contents of the folder were viewed. She ran a commentary the entire time. “That there’s Milton, and that next one, Sherlock …”

“How many cats do you have?” Carly couldn’t help but ask.

“Oh, only the three right now, the first three I showed you. These others, they’ve all gone over the Rainbow Bridge.”

“The Rainbow Bridge?” Carly asked.

“Kitty heaven,” Hazel whispered.

“Oh. I’m sorry for your loss.” Carly corrected herself. “Losses.”

“Thank you, dear.” While Carly looked through the rest of the paintings, Hazel chatted away.

“You know, when we heard that the town was bringing in some New York art dealer to show our paintings and run our exhibit, well, we all thought for sure you’d be some stuck-up art snob. But Grace Sinclair said you were lovely, and she was right. You’re a very nice young woman.”

“Well, thank you, Hazel.” Carly went back and forth between several of the paintings, trying to decide which one was least likely to frighten small children. “You know, your work is very … unique, Hazel. I can honestly say I’ve never seen anything quite like it. But space in the mansion is very limited, and I did want to save what space we have there for living artists from St. Dennis, so you’d certainly qualify. But in all fairness to others who might want to bring in works for the show, I really can only accept one painting from each artist. I’m sure you understand.”

“Well, I was hoping …” Hazel frowned.

“Of course you were. And I don’t blame you. Your work has a certain … energy, and we’d certainly be privileged to show it. But I can only choose one …” Carly went back through the portfolio a second time, hoping that she might have missed something that was better than what she’d seen. Finally, she pulled one out at random. “I think this one, Hazel.”

“Kitty Bright.” Hazel sighed. “She was my first.”

“Then it’s appropriate that we choose her, don’t you think?” She handed the painting to Hazel. “Now, I’m going to ask you to have this framed, and to hold on to it until we’re ready to start arranging the exhibit in the mansion.”

“All right.” Hazel put the selected work on top of the others in the portfolio and closed it. “I hope you’ll remember that I was the first person to bring in a painting and that
Kitty Bright
will have a prominent place in the hall.”

“I promise I’ll find the appropriate place.” With a hand on Hazel’s back, Carly guided the woman to the
door, opened it, held it for her, then, with a final wave good-bye, closed the door and slumped against it.

She ran a hand over her face, wondering how many more such viewings she’d have to endure.

“Cam, your work has a certain energy.” The voice floated from the other side of the partition.

“I know, Ford. I bet you didn’t expect to find anyone with talent like mine. You’re speechless, right?”

“I sure am. Your work is so … unique.”

Carly peered around the side of the partition and found Cam and Ford leaning against the wall.

“You two think you’re so funny.” Carly crossed her arms across her chest.

Ford walked toward her, laughing. “If you’d heard that conversation from back here, you’d think it was funny, too.”

“Actually, it
was
pretty funny,” she admitted, “in a macabre sort of way. Those cats were scary. It’s the only word that I can think of to describe them. But I had to pick one.”

“That’s pretty much what you’re going to get from the locals,” Cam told her. “We had an art fair about four years ago and you wouldn’t believe what people brought out.”

“After seeing Hazel’s cats, I’m afraid I would.” She grimaced at the thought of an entire exhibit filled with Hazel’s frightening felines.

“I think you handled her really well,” Ford told her. “I know I couldn’t have kept a straight face.”

Still laughing, Cam headed toward the door. “I’ll be back in an hour or so to finish up,” he told them. “Thanks for the entertainment.”

“So what brings you out this morning?” Carly asked after Cam left.

“I was hoping to catch Tony. I tried to call him this morning to see if he could grab a quick lunch before he heads back, but he didn’t pick up. It’s been a long time since we’ve gotten together, so I thought this would be a good opportunity to catch up. I hope you don’t mind. I wasn’t intending to hang around for your meeting.”

“I don’t mind at all, and you’re welcome to stay while he’s here.”

“So what does
Kitty Bright
look like?” Ford put first one, then his other arm around Carly.

“All white, huge yellow eyes.” Carly pretended to shudder. “All of Hazel’s cats have huge yellow eyes totally out of proportion. That’s what makes them so scary.”

“But you’ll include it in the exhibit and Hazel will be happy.”

“What’s the point in making her feel bad? She obviously enjoys doing it. There must have been thirty watercolors in that portfolio.”

The door opened and a dark-haired man stuck his head in. “Hello?”

“Yes?” Carly broke out of the circle of Ford’s arms to see who was there.

“Tony Rosetti.” The dark-haired man entered the room. When he saw Ford, he grinned, his arm outstretched. “Hey, buddy. Long time …”

Ford nodded and took the hand that reached for his. “Tony. You’re looking good,” he said as they exchanged a man-hug.

“You, too. Thinner maybe, but good.” Tony patted
Ford on the back, then turned to Carly. “Sorry. We used to … work together. It’s been a while.”

“It’s quite all right. I’m Carly.”

Tony nodded and looked around and got right to the point. “So is this the place?”

Carly nodded.

“You’re planning on displaying a fortune in art
here
?”

“I am. Assuming, of course, that you can secure it.”

“I can secure anything.” He walked around the room, mostly looking up.

“Take all the time you need,” Carly told him.

Tony took some measurements—walls, ceiling height, length and width of the room—with an implement he removed from his back pocket. He studied the doors and the windows, then, without a word, went outside.

Ten minutes later, Carly looked out front and saw him get into his car.

She frowned and turned to Ford. “You don’t suppose he’s leaving?”

“He wouldn’t leave without saying something. Maybe he’s making a phone call. Give him a few minutes. He’ll be back.”

Several minutes later, Tony came through the door.

“Okay, this is how I see it.” He walked Carly through his proposed system, where he would install cameras and sensors.

“How soon can you do this?” she asked.

“I can have this up and running in …” He appeared to be calculating. “A week. Ten days. No more. I’ll have to order a few things that aren’t normally available.”

“What does that mean?”

“He means stuff you don’t find in the average home security store,” Ford told her.

“Okay, then. How much do you think a system like this would cost?”

He gave her a number, and she almost passed out.

“Tony,” Ford said before Carly could find her voice, “I think you can do better.”

Tony scratched his head. “I don’t know, man, the kind of sensors we’re talking about are really pricey.”

Ford continued to stare at him.

“All right.” Tony tossed out a revised number. “That’s the best I can do.”

Carly thought over the other systems that had been proposed, none of which were nearly as sophisticated as the one Tony had in mind. Of course, none of them cost as much either. After all the renovations on the carriage house, there wasn’t much left in the budget. She’d have to go back to Ed and see what the town council was willing to contribute. The rest of it would have to come from the book sales.

“All right. Get me a written proposal, outlining exactly what you’re doing.”

“Uh-uh.” Tony shook his head. “If I outline what I’m doing and circulate that, then what’s the point? Someone could possibly figure out how to get around the system. Not real likely, but it could conceivably happen.”

“You have to give me an estimate for me to take to the town council.”

He nodded. “I’ll get you something you can use. It just won’t spell out all the bells and whistles.”

“Can you get it to me by Monday?”

“Sooner, if I can.”

Carly gave him her email address. “I really can’t thank you enough for coming all the way out here on such short notice.”

“Hey, anything for an old comrade-in-arms, right?” He bumped his fist on Ford’s arm. “Got time for a quick lunch before I head back?”

“I was just about to ask you the same thing. I know a great place just about a mile from here.” Ford turned to Carly. “You’re welcome to join us, of course.”

“Very nice of you, but no thank you. I have to get back to work.” She turned off the lights and followed the two men out the door, then locked up. “Thanks again, Tony.”

“My pleasure. Any friend of Ford’s, and all that.” Tony walked toward his car at the end of the drive.

“Where’s your car?” she asked Ford, who’d held back.

“I felt like a little exercise, so I walked over.”

“Thanks for whatever it was that you did to get him here so quickly.”

“You needed something really good, really fast. Tony’s the best, and I figured he’d do a favor if he could.”

“I appreciate it.”

He leaned over and kissed her. “We’re still on for tomorrow night, right?”

“Absolutely.”

“I’ll pick you up at seven.”

“See you then …”

She watched him sprint to the end of the driveway and hop into the passenger side of Tony’s Jeep. Then,
remembering there was one more thing she needed to do before she went home to work on the catalog, she got into her car and headed straight to Bling. There was a dress in the window just that morning that might be exactly what she was looking for.

Chapter 18

T
HE
dress in Bling’s window turned out to not work on Carly the way she’d hoped it would, but Vanessa had something else in mind.

“This one.” Vanessa brought a blue sheath with a squared neckline, front and back, into the dressing room and held it up in front of Carly. “The blue is almost the exact shade of your eyes and there’s just enough spandex in it to … well, you’ll see. You have to try it.”