Page 129 of Fresh Canvas
“I know where the real painting is. Well, I think I do. I was on Barbara’s website and watched a promotional video about one of her charities. Val, it’s hanging above her piano.”
He gaped down at me. “Are you sure?”
“I can’t be sure until I see it. If it’s only a flat reproduction, she’s clean. But, if it’s textured with real oil paints… Well, it’s too coincidental to ignore.” I nervously glanced down at my kitten heels, tucking my hair behind my ear.
Val’s liquid gaze bore into mine, as though trying to read what I wasn’t saying.
What I wouldn’t say.
“I’m sorry I accused you of being a thief, yes I still love you—and yes, you still suck for breaking my heart.”
I shifted under his scrutiny, fiddled with my keys, and caught sight of my watch. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to be late if I don’t leave right now. Barbara lives in the Gold Coast neighborhood, so I have quite a drive.”
I couldn’t be sure he was even registering my words because his face hadn’t moved a muscle. I opened my mouth to politely excuse myself again, but he interrupted me.
“Let me come with you.” A softness lay under his serious tone. “Barbara and I were always on great terms. Maybe I could help?”
I tried not to melt from the offer and failed.
“Val,” I said gently, “she knows we worked together. If we both show up, it might tip her off.”
“Please.”
That one whisper completely obliterated my defenses.
“Amantha, I want to be there for you if something happens. Barbara may be innocent, but she may also be a criminal.”
Silence stretched on as I considered him.
My cosmic wish had been granted. Val had finally showed up on my doorstep, his tired heart stitched on the sleeve of his insufferable white button up.
I heaved a heavy sigh.
“Alright.” I brushed past him, closing the door. “But you’re driving.”
thirty-seven
AMANTHA
Streetlamps illuminated the affluent Gold Coast neighborhood of Chicago. Either freelance curation was an extremely lucrative field, or Barbara had made a fantastic living from criminal activity. Her stately home rose two levels, with a delicate wrought iron railing and warm glowing windows spilling onto the sidewalk.
“You ready?” Val finally spoke, turning the key and shutting off the engine.
Butterflies and nausea were in a heated competition for territory in my stomach.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
Val moved to get out of the car, but I stopped him. “Val, wait.”
He settled back against the seat, sweeping me with a sidelong glance. My fingers twisted the strap on my purse as I stared into my lap.
“I need to apologize for what I said to you the other night after Stirling’s soirée. I jumped to conclusions and I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”
Out of the corner of my eye, Val’s shoulders sagged againstthe backrest. “I’m not sure I deserve any type of apology from you, but thank you for saying that.”
I didn’t know what else to say, and apparently neither did he. We both reached for our door handles at the same time, left the car, and walked silently up the elegant steps.
Before he could knock, I grasped his arm. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”
