Waterfront Weddings (44 page)

“You’re still wrong.”

“Nope, and I’ll find a way to prove it.”

She turned from the painting and felt pulled into his gaze. His eyes reflected his high intelligence. If she wasn’t careful, he would identify what was wrong with the painting. “What?”

“You know I’m tenacious.”

With everything but chasing her. How many mistaken relationships could she have avoided if he’d asked her to come back? “Most of the time.”

His eyebrow arched. “Really. Then I’ll show you how much it’s woven in the fabric of who I am.”

“Why waste your time on something so insignificant?”

“It’s not if I suggest a client buy a painting from your mother only to learn he didn’t get what he paid for.”

She tore her gaze from his and pivoted so her body angled toward the painting and away from him. Heat flushed her cheeks, but she prayed he didn’t notice. If he did, he’d know immediately that the possibility bothered her, too.

“What about Jacklyn?”

He looked at her like she’d gone crazy. “What?”

“Don’t you have a child with her?”

Color flushed up his neck. “Seriously? You think that?”

The shrill ring of the phone pierced the space between them like a wonderful warning. She hurried toward the desk, her stomach twisting at his expression. “I’ve got to get that.”

Jonathan didn’t move. His stillness reminded her of an alert Doberman. Poised and ready to pounce but studying the surroundings first. Exactly what she didn’t need.

She had to call Mom and find out what was going on with those paintings.

The phone rang as she picked it up. “The Painted Stone.”

“Hello. This is Patience. Is this Alanna?”

Alanna’s heart sank at the sound of her mom’s best friend. She shouldn’t be surprised that Mrs. Matthews would eventually call.

“A little birdie told me you’d returned.” The voice held the warmth of someone welcoming the prodigal home.

Alanna rubbed at a knot of tension at her temple. “Arrived a few days ago.”

“And you haven’t called?” The woman clucked her tongue. “My dear child, I promised your mother I would keep an eye on you. Can’t do that if you never come by.”

Alanna couldn’t think of the last time she’d been called a child. She’d slipped that title off at least fifteen years earlier.

“Are you there?”

“Yes, ma’am.” She sighed. “I’ve been busy keeping everything going.”

“For a successful attorney like you? I doubt the studio is the least challenge.”

Jonathan cleared his throat, and Alanna glanced his way. He pointed to his watch then the door. “I’ll be back.”

“All right.” They’d have to finish their conversation. But postponing it until after she talked to Mom provided a needed reprieve. She had to figure out what was going on. Shouldn’t be too difficult for someone who pieced together complex disputes.

“Alanna Stone.” Mrs. Matthews’s tone was tinged with welcome.

She rubbed her temple harder. “I’ll stop by soon. It’s tricky with the studio’s hours.”

“Your mother always managed.”

Alanna didn’t even attempt to hide her sigh. “I’m not Mom.”

“That is true.” The old woman chuckled. “Your mother’s life would have been easier these last years if you’d been more like her in your teens.”

The bell jangled, and Alanna turned back around. She smiled as she watched Mr. Tomkin walk in, a padfolio tucked under his arm. Just the distraction she needed.

“Well, thank you for calling. I’ve got to assist a customer.”

Alanna hung up without waiting for Mrs. Matthews’s good-bye. She’d learned in fourth-grade Sunday school that little short of perfection satisfied the woman. She already knew she wasn’t perfect.

“Mr. Tomkin. What can I do for you?” Anything he needed couldn’t be harder than dealing with Mrs. Matthews and Jonathan.

T
he man ignored the art as he approached the counter. He had the intent focus of a man on a mission from which he would not be distracted. By the set of his chin, she wasn’t certain she’d like whatever had brought him to the studio. Maybe she should have stayed on the phone.

“Alanna, we need someone talented like you to set up shop in this town. You’ll notice there aren’t any attorneys.”

She took a step back and sank onto the stool her mother used. “We’ve never needed them when Mackinaw City and St. Ignace have attorneys.”

“Not true. We need someone who’s involved here.”

The thought of practicing law on the island made her skin itch. She fought not to scratch her arms as she stared at him. “I already work in Grand Rapids.”

“For someone else. Here you could work for yourself.”

“No thanks.”

He stared a moment as if formulating his next argument then shrugged. “Think about it. I’m here because I need your help on a foundation matter. Your dad was instrumental as a founding member. Now he’s gone, and you can fill his shoes.” He set his padfolio on the counter and pulled out a paper. “Here’s the agenda for the next meeting. As you’ll see, we have many important items to discuss and vote on.”

The bell jingled, but Alanna focused on Gerald. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Alanna Stone.” She turned with a start. Brendan Tomkin? What was he doing here, with the same baby face and nose-in-the-air look he’d had in high school? “I heard you were back.”

He’d changed since high school, bulked up and thickened from the scrawny high schooler. He approached his dad with a strut. “Ready to grab a bite?”

Gerald glanced at his watch and frowned. “I was in the middle of an important conversation.”

“Come on, Pops. I’m hungry. Alanna will still be here when we’re done.”

Alanna bit back a sharp comment but forced her lips to curve. “We can talk after the meeting.”

“I suppose. It really is urgent.” He turned to his son. “Where are your manners?”

Brendan rolled his eyes before he plastered on a crooked smile. “Like to join us, Alanna?”

“I really can’t. Have to stay here.”

Brendan made a motion toward her. “See?”

Gerald mouthed, “Sorry.” Alanna shrugged. It looked like at the core Brendan hadn’t changed since high school. “How are you doing, Brendan?”

“Fine. Selling insurance like crazy on the mainland. Why?”

“I just thought with the anniversary of Grady’s death you might be. . .melancholy.” Boy, that sounded stupid, and the look he gave her reinforced that.

“Why would that matter?”

“You were friends. Always looked like good friends.”

“Not really. The island didn’t give me too many options. Our school didn’t need two guys jockeying for the girls. He just thought he was in my league. Besides, he was too pompous for my taste. He thought he was better than the rest of us. Too bad he couldn’t swim better.” Brendan grabbed his dad’s arm and tugged him toward the door. “Catch ya later, Alanna.”

Not if she could help it. If her class had contained more than eight students, she never would have spent any time with Brendan as a teen. His attitude hadn’t changed, and even then it made her want to listen to fingernails on a chalkboard rather than his self-important monologues.

Alanna watched the two round the sidewalk a moment then tried to remember what she’d been doing when Mr. Tomkin showed up. From the brief moment with Brendan, it seemed clear he’d inherited his father’s pushy personality. She shook off the moment, shoved the paperwork to the side, and picked up the phone. Maybe she’d catch Mom between doctors’ appointments and visiting Dad. She dialed the number and left a quick message at the beep.

“Mom, call me on my cell as soon as you get this. I need to ask you some questions about the studio.”

She set the phone back on the hook. She’d never thought of practicing law on Mackinac Island. But then she’d never considered going to law school until the police interviewed Trevor after Grady’s death. Dad had found an attorney, but the man hadn’t impressed her. She’d determined to treat her clients differently. With respect and full information about what was happening in their matters. Could she find the kind of cases she loved up here? Complex litigation like the murder trial she’d just braved. Cases that required a creative approach to pull the jury and judge into the story.

While the cases drained her, she loved the puzzle of putting together a compelling defense. But the last murder trial had really zapped her energy. The thought of diving into another case that would consume every hour and spare thought exhausted her. Should she consider the slower approach of small-town practice?

Who was she kidding? The last thing she wanted to do was stay here. She shouldn’t entertain the idea.

Alanna rolled the mouse back and forth, waking the computer from sleep mode. First, she placed an ad in the
Grand Rapids Press
. It would run online immediately and in the paper after Memorial Day, and she prayed the right person would read and apply. Then she opened a spreadsheet that listed paintings, artists, and if an item had sold. Maybe she could figure out who her parents bought art from. If she could determine that, she could see if a painting had been mislabeled.

Mom used to fill the studio with her own pieces; then, as she built a following that spread across the region thanks to the island’s faithful visitors, she slowly added other artists. Usually they were friends from the art community or they had a resonating style. Either way, the studio acquired a more eclectic feel. Maybe with managing others’ art, Mom had less time to create her own.

The bell on the front door jangled as a group of tourists entered. Alanna stood and approached the group of middleaged couples.

“Is there anything I can help you find?”

A woman with bouncing copper curls turned to her with a grin. “A souvenir. I need something that will help me remember this remarkable place.”

“It is that.” Alanna made a mental note to find smaller pieces to display. Anything less pricey than the big canvasses currently in the showroom. Shouldn’t Mom have done that a long time ago? Like the art professor suggested, a rack of postcards and assorted note cards based on Mom’s paintings would be a simple improvement. “I’ll check the back, but perhaps you’ll find something in one of the pieces here. Is there a certain place that is especially meaningful?”

“The Grand Hotel. I’d love a scene that makes me think of
Somewhere in Time.”

Alanna hid a smile as the woman gushed about the old movie filmed at the landmark hotel starring Christopher Reeve and Jane Seymour. Surely any of the paintings would satisfy that criteria.

She slipped into the back and rummaged through a stack of smaller canvasses. These didn’t have frames and looked unfinished compared to the ones hanging on the walls in the main room. She pulled several of the smaller pieces to the side and inspected them to make sure someone had stretched the canvas tight. She could display several immediately at a lower price point many of the island’s tourists could afford. By leaving the framing to the purchaser, they could perfectly match the frame to their décor.

Muffled voices carried to her as she carried the art to the showroom.

“These really are nice pieces.” A gentleman in khakis and a polo shirt stood in front of a large watercolor. Alanna bit off a frown when she saw it wasn’t one of Mom’s pieces. “The artist has a nice eye.”

“Only the best at the Painted Stone.” Alanna arranged the small canvasses on the countertop. “Here are a few pieces that might interest you as well.”

The woman with the curly hair hurried to the counter. “Oh, these are perfect. How much?”

“Two hundred and fifty dollars each.” She hoped her mom hadn’t agreed to pay the artists more.

Another woman, this one about ten years younger than the others, walked over. “Why aren’t they framed?”

Time to test her theory. “To allow you to frame a bit of the island in a way that fits your style.”

“Hmmm.” The woman tapped a lacquered fingernail against her lip and studied the paintings. “Interesting idea, but I prefer those I don’t have to work on.”

“Don’t worry about her.” The redhead leaned across the counter and made a show of lowering her voice. “She likes to think she’s an interior designer. We just call her the knowit-all.”

The man next to her snorted while Alanna bit her lip to keep from smiling. “What brings you to Mackinac?”

“A niece’s wedding, which corresponds to our thirtieth anniversary. I keep telling Ted he’s getting twice the bang for his dollars. A wedding trip and a second honeymoon.”

Her husband bumped against her side and grinned at her. “That’s my Alice—always thinking, even if you aren’t always kind.”

Confusion furrowed the redhead’s brow before a flash of something like indignation replaced it. “Leanna is a knowit-all. She knows it, too, don’t you, darling?” Alice put a hand on her hip and a pout on her lips.

“Sure enough. Mark likes me with a bit of contrariness.”

“See?”

Her husband leaned down and kissed Alice’s pout off. “Find anything you want?”

“I’ve already got it.” She grinned at him with a look that came only after years of marriage.

“You do?” He waggled his eyebrows at her, and Alice laughed.

“Yep, but if you’d like to make me really happy, there’s a little painting over here I’d love to take home.”

Alanna tried not to let her longing for a love like that mar the moment as Alice led Ted to a medium-sized painting of the porch at the Grand with a beautiful gold frame. The red geraniums that lined the porch provided a pop of color against the white rockers and yellow awnings. Alanna closed her eyes to block the view of the lovebirds considering the painting. She was ridiculous, really. She didn’t know what that couple had been through or endured, only that they seemed to reap the reward now.

Would she ever have the same? A lifetime of love to come home to?

The image seemed improbable even as she longed for it. A partner-track attorney at even a medium-sized firm had to give too much time to her job to have an outside life. The partners had only allowed her this time off after realizing she’d fried her last brain cell in the murder trial. It wasn’t the fact her family needed her, but the idea she could embarrass the firm as easily as she’d brought it positive media. Though she didn’t think working at an art studio qualified as a vacation.