Page 64 of Fresh Canvas
“How would you know? Isn’t it usually the crazy ones?”
Her scornful glare had me backpedaling quickly. “Sorry, sorry, I know she’s your boss and you love her.”
Amantha’s eyes narrowed, though her lips twitched with amusement. “Kendra seems much more likely to be involved. Doesn’t she sign off on all pieces coming in or out of the museum? And oversee the verification process? I mean, Kendra has access.”
I thoughtfully rubbed my chin, irritated by the prickles I found. No matter how clean my shave was in the morning, my facial hair grew thickly by nightfall—like a stubborn chia pet.
“You watch for leads and let me know if anything suspicious is going on. I’ll go back to the database and start digging. I guess we’ll go from there,” I said.
“You do know this is nuts, right? We’re not detectives! But I get your point. It would be terrible if this got out. And losing my job isn’t an option.” An unexplained flash of fear pierced her eyes, but it vanished as soon as it began.
Amantha retrieved a laptop from the kitchen counter. Abandoning her coffee and settling on her bed, she began to type.
“I’m just now realizing that this whole situation is a ticking time bomb. If I was able to identify it as a forgery with a naked eye, how long will it be until someone else does too? I mean, come look at this!” She mindlessly patted the bed next to her.
I struggled to ignore the mental pictures flashing through my brain as I joined her on the plush mattress.
“May I?” I waited for her nod, then took the laptop. Lake Attersee filled the screen. The differencesweresignificant, now that I knew what to look for. The miniscule lily was precisely the shade of whipped butter. The dock’s corner had no perceptible brush strokes. This was bad. Very bad.
It’s only a matter of time until this gets out.
It was my turn to panic, the pressure of the situation finally dawning on me.
My throat sealed shut as my lungs did that dumb water-boarding thing again. The apartment began to undulate on the edges of my vision. I clapped the laptop closed, setting it on the floor. My breathing sped, hard and heavy.
All that work. All this time.
“Val?” Amantha’s distant voice sounded alarmed. “You okay?”
I waved her off, humiliated, trying to remember what words were to assure her everything was fine. My chest continued to heave, but each breath was devoid of oxygen. A blurry Amantha darted across the room and filled a glass with water. Forcing it into my cramping hands, she instructed me firmly to drink it.
The glass felt like ice against my fingers.
Cool water gushed down my tight throat.
Oxygen began to seep back into my panting chest, though my body still trembled. I watched Amantha sit back on the bed, though much closer this time. The heat from her small shoulder grazed mine.
“My dad used to have panic attacks too. My mom taught me the five senses could help. Cold water usually works wonders.” Her soft voice sounded understanding, not a trace of judgment. Not a hint that she found me as pathetic as I felt.
Much to my utter astonishment, Amantha reached over, grasped one of my hands, and pulled it onto her lap. Using her small, ivory fingers, she began to gently massage my clenched fist until it relaxed, my fingers blossoming open again.
My breath caught in my throat. I tried to hold perfectly still, as though a butterfly had landed and I didn’t want to frighten it away. But something told me that the woman beside me didn’t scare easily.
Amantha trailed her pink fingernails down each of my fingers, swirled around, then traced the ridges of my palm.
It felt incredible, her touch so soothing.
No one had been this gentle, thiskind, with me in a long time. It pricked my eyes, to be honest, but I swallowed the emotion. No way was I letting her see me blubber like an idiot right now.
“Touch helps too,” she murmured. Without looking up, she whispered, “Is this okay?”
I nodded until I realized she couldn’t see me.
“Yes.” My throaty voice came out huskier than I would have liked. Her eyes flew to mine, that familiar silver blaze resuming its fire. Amantha continued stroking my hand.
“Good.” Her gaze wandered briefly to my lips before meeting mine again.
At that look in her eyes, a rush of heat emerged in my chest, radiating to the fingertips she still held.
