Page 73 of The Misfits of Copper County
Second, the Empire Ridge story, akaThe Avery Decker Award-Winner Delaney Never Finished.
And third,The Case of the Extremely Hot ContractorWhose Talented Hands and Mouth Should Come With a Warning Label.I was still workshopping this title.
Of the three, though, there was only one that was truly consuming my brain every waking moment.
Brewer Barnum, with his crinkle-cornered eyes, big, comfortable chest, and tip-tilted smile had hijacked my brain… and he made me feel so verygood, I wasn’t even mad about it.
I’d told myself, when I woke up this morning still cuddled in Brewer’s arms, not to get too used to it. We were “friends, sort of” but now… possibly with benefits. A contractor and client who’d shared a bed on occasion. Simple biology mixed with proximity—the baking soda volcano of relationships—that would soon fizzle out. I’d recounted to myself, ad nauseam, all the reasons why that was all it could be.
But by the time I left the house a few hours later, I’d had to stop lying to myself.
I could pretend it was casual all I wanted, but I practically vibrated when Brewer walked into a room, purred when he smiled, and had stared at the precise angle of his jaw so long I could sculpt it out of clay in the dark, though I was barely capable of drawing stick figures. None of that felt casual.
Yes, that was scary as fuck, thank you for asking.
And no, I had no idea what I was going to do about it. The man wasn’t exactly open with his emotions, and it was too soon to bring it up.
Or maybe I was too scared.
I reached theGazetteoffice and paused outside, willing my body to settle down. Samuel had asked if I could meet him here to talk about the paintings, and I really didn’t need to walk in sporting a semi because I’d been thinking about Brewer and his jaw.
Get it together, Monroe.
The bell above the door jingled as I stepped inside, and I was immediately enveloped by the scent of ink and old paper, though I was pretty sure they didn’t actually print newspapers here. Something about the space felt immediately comfortable—three battered wooden desks set in a row, each stacked high with folders and notes; a century-old printing press displayed in the corner; a wall of framed front pages marking historic moments in Copper County’s history.
It was cute, in a wholesome way.
Charming, if you liked that sort of thing.
And to my surprise, I kind of did.
But no sooner had my shoulders relaxed than I spotted Samuel’s tiny terror curled in his doggy bed by the desk. Admiral Barkington lifted his head to fix me with beady eyes and let out a sharp yip.
“Don’t mind him, Delaney,” said the older man rising from behind the desk. “Admiral Barkington thinks he’s the welcoming committee. We’re both happy to see you again.”
I recognized Samuel Purchase from our brief encounter at O’Leary Hardware a week and a half ago, and I extended a hand in greeting while keeping a careful distance from the Admiral.
“Mr. Purchase,” I said. “Hi. Thanks for making time to see me on such short notice?—”
“Samuel, please.” He shook my hand briefly, then waved me to a chair in front of my desk. “And don’t thank me. Everyone’s been talking about the treasures you uncovered for days now, and I’ve been dying to see them for myself. I was nearly giddy when I got your text.”
I laughed as I set the painting on the desk, and he immediately started to unwrap it. “I’m afraid I don’t know for sure who the artist is or how they came to paint so many scenes around Copper County. I have an appointment with an art appraiser who’ll hopefully tell me more. But I was mostly wondering if you could tell me why they would’ve been hidden in my wall?—”
Samuel’s breath caught as the final bit of wrapping fell away and he took in the lakeside autumn scene. “Elizabeth Winters,” he said softly. “My God.”
“You recognize the artist?” I asked in surprise.
He glanced up at me distractedly, like he’d momentarily forgotten I was there. “Hmm? Oh, yes, these are Elizabeth Winters’s work—E. Winters, as she was professionally known.”
“Really? Because I saw some E. Winters paintings online, and they were…” I hesitated. “Different.”
Samuel smiled and sat back in his chair, though his eyes kept returning to the painting. “Yes, Elizabeth was best known for her urban landscapes. Street scenes, crowded cafes, subway platforms. Very bright and energetic. Lots of faceless people?—”
“Yes!” I sat forward eagerly. “That’s exactly what I thought.”
He nodded absently. “The work she did in Copper County was quite different. More… personal. Not as well-known, I don’t think… but that might be because she gave so much of it away.” He smiled. “For example, I have a portrait at home that she painted of me, aged seven, eating an apple with no front teeth.”
“Wait, you knew her?” I demanded. “Personally?”
