Where Dreams Begin (24 page)

Toby scanned the long bulletin board, then paused to study Rafael’s drawing and let out a long, low whistle. “Who did this?” he asked.

“I did,” Rafael almost shouted. “I’m Rafael Reynoso.”

Toby glanced over his shoulder. “Toby McClure. Where have you studied?”

Rafael appeared flustered by the question. “Nowhere. I just like to draw.”

Toby caught Luke’s eye. “Dave said you needed an artist’s opinion, but any man off the street would recognize this much talent. If you want a scholarship to Art Center, kid, we could probably get you one by this afternoon. Do you have a portfolio?”

“What’s that?” Rafael asked.

“Some nice samples of your work,” Toby explained.

Rafael fell back on attitude. “Hell, I don’t have anything saved. I just draw on scraps and throw them away.”

Toby winced, then looked back at the magnificent drawing. “My house is the perfect background, and I’d like to see you get started on the mural just as soon as you can. When you’re through here this morning, Rafael, come on over to my place, and I’ll help you get some sketches together for a portfolio.”

“Wait a minute,” Luke cautioned. “The drawing’s good, I’ll grant you that, but you haven’t proved who did it. I’d like to see you draw something right here, Rafael.”

Tina Stassy had worked her way to the front of the crowd. She had a firm hold on Charlie so he wouldn’t bolt if he became frightened. “Go on, Rafael, I’ve seen you draw. Show Luke how it’s done.”

After returning with Toby, Dave had hung back out of way, but now he began to laugh and was his usual helpful self. “We still have plenty of paper and pencils.”

Rafael’s chin was tucked close to his chest as he addressed Luke. “What is it you want me to draw?”

“Why not a sketch of Mrs. Brooks?” Luke suggested. “She’d make an interesting subject.”

Catherine didn’t dare look at Luke when she was so angry with him, but she was too eager to help Rafael to refuse his surprising request. She swept her hair around her ear and moved toward the closest chair. “Will this be all right?” she asked.

“Wherever,” Rafael grumbled. He took the paper and pencils Dave offered and sat opposite her. When the kids began to press close, he waved them off. “Give me some room or I’ll suffocate.”

Once his request was honored, Rafael stared at Catherine a long moment and then gestured for her to tip her head slightly. “Yeah, that’s it.”

Catherine held still, but she was acutely aware of the kids’ comments all around her. Some really did admire Rafael’s artistic ability, while others complained their drawings were just as good as his. Adding to her discomfort, she could feel Luke watching her, but fortunately, Rafael worked quickly, made a show of signing his drawing and then rose to hand it to Luke.

It was a simple pencil sketch with a minimum of shading, but Rafael had captured not only the sweetness of Catherine’s features, but also the subtle force of her personality. Luke compared it briefly to the climbing angels and then gave a reluctant shrug.

“I’ll accept this as proof the drawing is yours, but I need to confer with the other judges before we announce a winner. Mrs. Brooks, Dave, let’s talk outside.”

Eager to speak with Luke where the kids couldn’t overhear, Catherine followed him into the courtyard. After he’d questioned whether Rafael had actually produced the best drawing, she wondered if he might not continue to be perverse and select another entry as the winner. She glanced toward Dave, counting on him to be an ally, but he was waiting for Luke to speak rather than looking her way. She widened her stance and hoped she wouldn’t have to talk until sundown to hand Rafael the honor he’d earned.

“There was a vague reference to a prize,” she reminded Luke. “The winner ought to receive something more than recognition.”

Luke rolled up the drawing of Catherine and held it in a loose grasp. “As I recall, Rafael made it sound as though he wouldn’t pick up a pencil if there weren’t a cash prize. I didn’t want the kids working for the money rather than for the challenge of the mural itself.”

“While that might have been a worthy goal, the drawing is a masterpiece, and Rafael deserves a prize,” Catherine insisted.

“Do you suppose Toby actually believes Rafael might receive a scholarship to Art Center? Wouldn’t that be enough of a prize?” Luke replied.

“No,” Catherine was quick to argue. “The prize has to come from you.”

“Children, please, let’s play nice,” Dave cautioned. “First we ought to choose the winner, then we can hand him, or her, the prize.”

“I’m voting for Rafael,” Catherine announced quickly. “What about you, Dave?”

Dave hunched his shoulders and looked down at his scuffed boots. “I’m mighty partial to Tina’s work, or the idea of it at least, but I can see Rafael’s is far more polished. The angels are almost floating up the front of the house, and it’s an image that would play well on TV. That’s what we need, isn’t it, Luke, a mural that will draw people into Lost Angel rather than send them scurrying away?”

Luke nodded. “We’ll go back in and tell everyone we came to a unanimous decision. I’ll award Rafael a hundred dollar cash prize. Then I’ll explain I’ll have some blank greeting cards made to use as many of the other entries as we can. Will that make you happy, Mrs. Brooks?”

The question caught Catherine off guard, but she had an immediate comeback. “I didn’t know that pleasing me was one of your priorities here, Dr. Starns.”

“Let’s just say I try not to alienate too many of our loyal volunteers,” Luke replied in a perfect imitation of her barely civil tone.

“Now I still expect you to head up the mural project, Mrs. Brooks. While you’re figuring out how much paint you’ll need and choosing the colors, I’m going to have our attorney friends draw up a contract for Toby. I can’t risk having him balk in the middle of the project, or God forbid, having him change Rafael’s design to advertise his own work instead of Lost Angel’s needs.”

Catherine had to admit that was an excellent idea, and it proved just how thoroughly Luke had considered the mural project. That care to detail made her suspect that he’d deliberately meant to provoke Rafael. He certainly possessed a stunning aptitude for stirring up trouble, and it hadn’t even occurred to her until that very moment that he wasn’t merely thoughtless nor clumsy with words.

No indeed, he expressed himself with a cautious precision. That had to mean he deliberately posed provocative questions and at the precise instant when they could do the most damage. Did he actually enjoy creating discord, simply so he could take credit for minimizing the damage? she wondered.

It was a chilling thought and not one she would keep to herself Saturday night. Luke might believe he was a master at the barbed question, but she would give him a taste of his own medicine and laugh if he couldn’t choke it down.

Chapter Twelve

When Luke announced that Rafael’s design would be used for the mural and that he would indeed receive a cash prize, the young artist fought to maintain a studied indifference, but a boyish grin quickly overcame his sullen frown. Nick, Tina, Polly and most of the kids slapped him on the back and offered teasing congratulations, but there were a few who, obviously badly disappointed, hung back from the crowd.

Catherine hated to see any of the teens feel slighted. “Does the center have access to a digital camera?” she asked. “I’d like to photograph all the entries now for the greeting cards.”

Luke nodded, then called to Dave. “Mrs. Brooks is going to have her hands full with the mural. So I’ll need you to get the camera to record all the entries, load the photos into the Mac and oversee the artwork for the cards.”

“Sure, I’ll get on it this afternoon.” Dave raised his voice slightly to make an announcement. “Make sure your names are on your drawings, then leave them where they are so that I can take photos. Each one has something we can use to promote Lost Angel’s cause, and I know Mrs. Brooks will expect all of you to help paint the mural.”

“I most certainly will,” she promised.

“Come on back to my office,” Luke murmured. “I need to give you the center credit card to pay for your supplies.”

“I could hand in receipts and be reimbursed,” Catherine replied.

“No, let’s keep things simple for Pam and use the card.”

“All right, then, I don’t want to create bookkeeping problems.” She followed Luke to his office, but on the way, it was all she could do not to tell him exactly what she thought of the shabby way he’d treated Rafael.

“Were you able to pick a winner?” Pam asked as they entered the office.

“Yes. Rafael turned in an incredible effort after you left,” Catherine responded. “You’ll have to go over and see it.”

“I’ll make a point of it,” Pam promised before reaching to answer the telephone.

Luke drew Catherine into his office, and the instant he shoved his door closed, he grabbed her in a boisterous hug and lifted her clear off her feet.

“I may have insisted that you not argue with me over how I run the center, but we couldn’t have played that scene with Rafael any better had I written a script.”

He was about to dance her around the small office, but she put her hands firmly on his chest to discourage the idea. “Wait a minute, are you admitting you intended to humiliate Rafael?”

Shocked as much by her question as by her accusing tone, he released her and took a single backward step. “I wasn’t out to humiliate him. Like a lot of the kids here, he gives up on things too easily and then claims he didn’t care about them in the first place. I wanted to shake him up a bit to inspire him to stand up for his artwork. There was a risk he’d shrug off my challenge and walk away. But my ploy worked, and he fought to win.”

That Luke could so easily justify his actions didn’t surprise her, but it also failed to impress her. “You played him,” she insisted, “and because I had no idea you weren’t sincere, you played me as well.”

His lighthearted mood burst like a soap bubble, Luke retreated behind his desk and dropped into his chair. “I didn’t play anyone,” he swore. “Look, my job is to help these kids become responsible citizens. Sometimes they need to be jarred out of their indifference, and I do it gladly.”

Her voice was honey-smooth. “So you manipulate people for a just purpose, is that it?”

“No!” he shot back. “Is that what you think I’m doing with you?”

His threatening scowl was all too familiar, and she just shook her head. “I don’t know. You have a way of asking odd questions, and now I wonder if it isn’t just for effect.”

He leaned back and propped his hands behind his head. “I already apologized for asking if you were seeing anyone else. It was a stupid question, and I’m sorry I let my fears get the better of me.”

Intrigued, Catherine propped her hip on his desk. “What fears?”

He appeared startled to have spoken the word aloud. He sat up and yanked open his top drawer to find the credit card he’d mentioned. After a quick search, he handed it to her.

“We all have the same fears. That we’ll always be alone, or God forbid, we’ll be with the wrong person and wish we were.

“Had I realized Rafael was such a talented artist, I’d have warned you I was going to hassle him. As it was, I was as surprised as everyone else when he turned in such a stunning design. I saw an opportunity to make a point and seized it. If Toby doesn’t take Rafael over to Art Center for a tour, then I will. These kids have such slim hopes for success, I sure as hell won’t let Rafael waste his.”

Up to a point, his righteous indignation was convincing, but Catherine still harbored the suspicion she’d been used. It was an uncomfortable sensation, as though she’d worked in her garden all morning and left home without rinsing off the dirt.

“Do you have any other especially effective techniques you’d care to warn me about now?” she asked.

He considered her question a long moment and then shrugged. “You saw me ban the girls for fighting. Being tough in enforcing our rules earns the kids’ respect, but no one thinks I’m a mean, manipulative bastard.”

She took exception to his tone. “I didn’t use such derogatory terms.”

“My mistake. We still on for tomorrow night?”

He was pretending to sort the papers on his desk. Catherine saw through his feigned nonchalance, but she remained hopelessly confused about his motives. He struck her as a man of principle, but how he put those principles into practice was something else entirely.

“Yes,” she assured him. “Why don’t you come to my house for dinner? We can go to the movies later, if you like.” She pocketed the credit card as she straightened.

“I don’t want you to go to a lot of work,” Luke protested.

“It’s not much fun cooking for one, and I’d enjoy it.” Before he could argue, she crossed to the door. “How’s six o’clock?”

“Fine, I’ll be there.”

He didn’t look real pleased about it, but Catherine was still glad she’d confronted him about Rafael. Luke provided such a perplexing mixture of stubborn masculine pride and what she hoped was sincere concern that she made no effort to predict what his mood would be on Saturday night. All she could do was bake one of her favorite recipes and hope the gesture touched his heart.

Joyce had been watching for Catherine’s arrival, and when she saw her Volvo pull into the driveway, she sprinted down the street and beat her to the front door. “Please, I already know I’m an idiot, but today was such a disaster that if I don’t tell someone about it, I swear my head will explode.”

Joyce was dressed in a baggy pair of faded jeans. The buttons on her lavender shirt were misaligned, and there was a hole in the toe of her left tennis shoe. Catherine needed only a single glance to understand something alarming must have happened to her usually impeccably dressed friend.

“Come on in,” she invited. “It’s still warm. Let’s go on out to the deck.”

Joyce followed right behind her. “I went up to Shane’s nursery today, and I swear every word of this story is true, although I’m embarrassed to admit that even a minute of it happened.”

Catherine carried a pitcher of iced tea out to the patio, while Joyce brought the ice-filled glasses. She sat, propped her feet on the adjacent chair, and after a long sip of tea, encouraged Joyce to continue. “Why don’t you begin at the beginning?”