The Butterfly and the Violin (6 page)

“Oh yeah. The art thing.” He accepted it, then flipped the business card against his knuckles as if lost in thought. “They said someone from the gallery would be flying in soon. I didn’t expect it to be today.”

He motioned the end of the rake past the driveway where the tent stood, bustling with workers. Sera’s gaze followed, and finally it clicked. Except for the blush pinks and muted greens of the flowers, every last detail was set in a pristine ivory. And ivory could only mean one thing.

“They’re having a wedding?”

He nodded.

There was a wedding at the estate and no one had bothered to tell her. Sera gritted her teeth. She was going to kill Penny when she got home. How could her assistant fail to mention a tiny detail like a wedding, especially when the painting was at stake?

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know . . .” But before she could finish the apology, his attention was diverted.

“Hey, Manhattan—would you excuse me for a moment?”

Manhattan?

He walked toward a younger man, midtwenties maybe, with a tan and a giggling girl positioned at each elbow. If this guy was also a member of the grounds crew, he seemed to have forgotten it. Sera noticed a rake leaning up against the side of the florist’s truck as he chatted with the girls.

Sera watched the group. It gave her a moment alone to stir up her confidence.

Breathe, Sera.
She straightened her blazer and inhaled.
It’s awkward, but not a deal breaker. If you still want to find the painting, you’ve got to go in there and convince this family that they want to help you.

She watched as the man in the ball cap dispersed the group. He spoke to the younger guy and tossed a nod her way. Were they talking about her? The girls snatched up baskets overflowing with French peonies and scurried away as if their apron tails were on fire.

When he walked back up to her, she asked, “What did you say to him?”

He rubbed a hand against the back of his neck and turned toward the younger man who’d moved to the front stoop. “I suggested that he might be better served seeing our guest into the house if he couldn’t keep his mind on his work.”

Sera tilted her head toward the tent and frowned. “No one told me that there would be, well, this going on. I would have scheduled a better time for the Hanovers.”

“What, that?” He shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. There’s always something going on around here.”

“Yes, well,” she answered, her hand going back to the bottom of her bag. He smiled as she continued digging.

“Not exactly ready for a day at the beach, are you?”

Sera looked down at her tailored black suit and then back up at him. “You mean to say I look like I’m from New York?”

“Not at all, Miss James. Just an observation. How about we show you around, since you’re here on estate business.”

“Um, are you the gardener?”

“Sometimes.” He chuckled under his breath and tipped the brim of his ball cap as he walked away. “Go on in, Manhattan. The guy on the porch is Paul. I told him about you, and he’s waiting to give you the dime tour.”

“Paul!” A lovely blonde sailed down the spiral staircase the moment they walked through the door. She darted into his arms and he welcomed her, hugging her tight as they turned in circles. She was a tiny flip of a thing, petite and with a youthful glow that couldn’t have put her at more than twenty years.

“Macie!”

“I didn’t know you were going to be here this early. We expected you tomorrow.” The young woman beamed at him and pecked a kiss to his cheek. “No one told me a thing.”

“Then it wouldn’t have been a surprise,” he teased, and flipped the sunny waves that bounced over her shoulder. “When did this happen?”

Macie grabbed the back of her hair and shrugged. “The first second Mom had her back turned, I had it all chopped off.”

“And how’d our dear mother take it?”

“Like a champ.” The girl winked at him. “She only cried for a half hour before she was calling the stylist with the new short-haired bridal theme. She had to reorder the flowers and change the neckline of the bridesmaids’ dresses at the last minute, but it’s kept her occupied at the very least.”

“I’m surprised she’s still talking to you after that stunt.”

“Nah,” she said, and waved him off. “I’m still in her good graces, don’t forget, because at least I’m getting married. That means someday, Eric and I will give her grandkids and you’ll still be all alone in that Boston apartment of yours.”

He coughed rather uncomfortably and quickly stood aside, exposing Sera to the bride’s sparkling, dimpled smile.

“Macie, this here is . . . Manhattan. She flew in from New York for the occasion. Manhattan, this is my sister—our bride.”

The young bride looked shocked. Her eyes popped open a little wider and she grinned from ear to ear.

“Really.” Macie turned to Sera, who’d been eyeing the front door as an escape route. That plan was dashed now that the bride was smiling and checking her out from top to bottom. “Your date, Paul?”

“Nope,” he said with a slight shake of his head. “Here on estate business. I have orders to give her a tour of the house.”

Macie contorted her face in an animated frown.

“Well, keep her away from William, that’s all I have to say. He woke up in a rotten mood and has been in his usual take-charge mode ever since. He’s even managed to issue orders to the wedding planners. If he finds out she’s here in the midst of it, you might not be able to vouch for her safety.”

Sera was taken aback by the comment. Wasn’t William the person she was supposed to meet? He should have been expecting her.

“Look at her.” Paul slugged his sister’s shoulder with a mock punch. “She’s turned into a deer in the headlights. Five minutes and Manhattan is already thinking about hightailing it out of here.”

Had that all shown on her face? Sera had to think it was possible, because that was exactly what had been flying through her mind.

Macie leaned in to shake her hand and whispered, “Manhattan? Is that a real nickname or one that this guy gave you?”

“It’s Sera,” she said, offering a smile in greeting.

“The Hanover men fancy themselves clever with handing out nicknames. No one else likes it either. Paul here’s called me Spacey-Macie since I was five and got lost at the grocery store. Word to the wise—they’ll never let anyone forget a nickname once they’re branded.”

“I heard that.” Paul stepped up and issued her a stern frown. “And for your information, I’m not the one who gave it to her.”

Sera looked back and forth between them. “I’m here on
business, actually. Estate business. I’m supposed to meet with a Mr. William Hanover? I believe he’s expecting me.”

“You’re here to see William?” Macie said, and exchanged glances with Paul. His face was covered with a curious grin.

It made Sera even more nervous. “Is that a problem?”

“Oh, believe me, honey, he’s not expecting you,” Macie answered, shaking her head rather sorrowfully.

“He’s not?”

“Well, not really.” Paul echoed his younger sister’s statement, but with something lighter about his voice. He seemed to be close to laughing. “But I’d say he probably knows you’re here.”

“But my assistant said—”

“I’m sure your assistant had it right. It’s about the painting?”

Sera nodded, not sure what to make of the odd reception the Hanover house presented its guests.

“When he finds out you’re here, it’s going to send him into hyperdrive.” Macie gave her a weak smile as she reached out to pat Sera’s elbow. “I’m so sorry.”

“Well, he might already know she’s here, Mace.”

The bride shook her head. “No way. He would have said something.”

“So I’m guessing, Miss James, that you had no idea my grandfather’s will is being contested and that all of his holdings are tied up in the hands of the court.” Paul’s face dropped when she was rendered speechless. “Classic. They didn’t tell you?”

“No, not a word.” Sera shook her head, befuddled by the revelation that the painting might be unattainable even to the Hanovers. Getting involved with legal proceedings was messy business. “What’s going on?”

“Well, I’m sorry to tell you this.” Paul shook his head. “But there’s only one thing standing between my family and our inheritance, and that something is the painting. William is unlikely to be happy to see you.”

At his words Sera did a double take, looking from the blushing bride back to him. “Why . . . ? He doesn’t even know me.”

“He knows everything he needs to, Miss James. You just happen to be searching for the painting whose owner is set to inherit the entire hundred-million-dollar Hanover estate.”

CHAPTER SIX

T
his was bigger news than Sera was prepared for at the moment. Not in the first hour of her having landed in California. And not as she sat waiting in a chair across from the massive desk, tapping her feet like a schoolgirl who’d been sent to the principal’s office. But here she was, suit-clad Manhattan, waiting for the head of the Hanover clan to step into the estate’s downstairs office and turn her ordered world upside down.

As promised, Paul had given her a tour of the house before he’d deposited her in his eldest brother’s office. Nine bedrooms. Twelve bathrooms. A pool here, a library and media room there. The house was palatial, with a beautiful view that spanned the California coastline, but she was used to wealthy clients and had prepared herself for it.

Finding out the value of the family estate, though—that had thrown her a bit.

It couldn’t be true.
The painting
was the sticking point? Sera thought she’d been searching for a lost painting that couldn’t have been worth anything to anybody. Now it was worth the equivalent of one hundred million dollars? That was more than the price of an original Monet. And way out of the price range that could make it attainable to her.

Sera could hear the clock ticking on the wall. She’d come all this way because of the mystery in a painting that had stolen
her heart years ago. Now she’d landed in an even bigger mystery and the patriarch of it all was coming in the office—to see
her
.

The door creaked and Sera turned toward the sound. What she saw was nothing short of a cruel joke. It wasn’t the fire-breathing Hanover monster that Macie had warned her about. Neither was he the boorish family boss that Paul had described. Instead, in walked one of the handsomest men she’d ever seen.

Blue dress shirt, matching eyes. Dark hair. He’d discarded the Red Sox hat and had managed a quick change of clothes, but there was no denying it. Her heart sank when she realized who it was.

Are you the gardener?
Sera thought back to the embarrassing question she’d asked him outside and almost melted to the hardwood floor.

Lovely. What else could go wrong?

“Miss James, is it?” He walked in the office with a studied air and sat down behind the desk. “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting. As you know, I was busy working with the grounds crew.” He tilted his head toward the windows overlooking the front lawn and flashed a brilliant smile. “So to speak.”

She nodded politely and tried to return a confident smile to his teasing. “That’s all right. I haven’t been waiting long.”

Smile. Yes, that was it. If she could smile, maybe she could convince him that she wasn’t a total ditz.

“I’m sorry to be an imposition at such an important time, but as I said outside, no one informed me there would be a wedding here. I expected to meet with you in person and settle this business of the painting in one afternoon. Had I known the legal troubles surrounding the estate, I’d have opted for a more appropriate time.”

“Ah,” he mumbled, and leaned back in his office chair until the wood creaked. “Then Paul told you about the inheritance.”

“He did.”

“And you think there’s a better time to tell a man you’re trying to take a hundred million dollars out of his pocket?”

She squirmed uncomfortably. “I’m not sure what you’re referring to. I just own an art gallery. Anything decided regarding the estate is out of my hands.” Those would be the hands that were twisting in her lap at the moment.

“Well, that is where you’re wrong.”