Zoe grinned. "That too."
She departed with her dryer fuzz, and Annie called two customers to notify them that their frame orders were ready. She reached answering machines for both and left what she hoped were coherent messages. She hadn't had so much as a browser in the past forty-five minutes. No Winslow Gallery was hers, especially on a Tuesday.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, she could see herself and Gran out on the rocks on a quiet summer afternoon, the only sounds the wind and the gulls and the lapping tide. Gran had never lived in the city, had never wanted to live anywhere but on her bay. She'd seldom even traveled. Everything she needed, everything she wanted, was right there on the peninsula. She didn't miss art galleries, coffee shops, big-screen movie theaters, city lights.
Annie rubbed one foot over Otto's back. Lethargic all day, he was conked out behind her desk. Cynthia Linwood hadn't even noticed him. Probably just as well. How could she explain herself, her life, to someone like Cynthia Linwood?
"I'm homesick, Otto," she said softly.
It was only because she was so damned desperate to have Garvin MacCrae on her side, she decided. An inexplicable bit of insanity on her part. Totally misguided. But there it was, eating away at her, making her squirm. Time to latch onto the woman she'd been before Saturday morning's auction. Before kissing a man who only wanted to use her to get to his wife's murderer.
A man materialized in front of her desk, jerking her from her stupor. She jumped and just managed to keep from falling off her chair and making an ass of herself. "I'm sorry," she said, her heart pounding in classic startle response. "I didn't hear you come in."
He was a dark-haired, good-looking man in his mid-to-late thirties, conservatively dressed in a gray suit and red tie. He wore expensive preppy glasses. Obviously not expecting her extreme reaction, he gave her a tentative smile. "No apology necessary. I didn't mean to startle you. I had no idea you hadn't heard me." His smile reached his dark eyes, helping to calm her. "No one's ever accused me of being light on my feet."
Annie waved a hand, not feeling so embarrassed. "Oh, it's not your fault. My mind was wandering."
Abandoning Otto, who hadn't alerted her to company or even stirred, she went around her half-moon desk. She had on one of her better outfits today, a bisque-colored silk sweater with a slim black skirt and silver hoop earrings. Basic, mix-and-matchable, but attractive.
Her new customer did a quick survey of the gallery, then glanced back at her. "You're Annie Payne, I take it? I'm Ethan Conninger. I work with the Linwoods. I—" He broke off as Otto took it upon himself to emerge from behind the desk and stretch, an impressive sight even for someone accustomed to rottweilers.
"It's okay," Annie said quickly, "he's friendly. His name's Otto."
"After von Bismarck?"
She shook her head. "After this old lobsterman who spotted him in the water. Otto Miller. It's a long story."
Ethan Conninger's easy manner didn't change. "I see. He doesn't deter business?"
"No one's complained yet."
He grinned at her, irreverent. "Who would?" Otto, ever unpredictable, decided to make friends with him. Ethan Conningcr gingerly patted his massive head and stood back from his slobbery mouth. "Hey, fella. You're a big guy, aren't you?" He looked back at Annie as he straightened. "He's a beautiful animal. I've considered getting a rottweiler, but I've never really been around one. How old is he?"
"Three." Having someone to pet him instead of cringe at his presence, Otto flopped happily down at Ethan Conninger's feet. "I rescued him from a bay in Maine when he was just a puppy. He's never been your stereotypical rottweiler."
"I can see that." Since Otto hadn't chomped off a leg or anything, Ethan Conninger seemed more at ease. "Well, I just stopped by to introduce myself while I was in the area. Cynthia Linwood mentioned you were at Winslow's last night. I couldn't make it myself."
"Yes, she stopped by earlier."
"Did she? I knew she was planning to." He grinned easily, self-conscious in a charming way. "Look, to be perfectly honest, we're all curious about you after the auction. The painting you bought— frankly, I thought it had been destroyed years ago. So when you came out of the blue and paid as much as you did—" He shrugged. "Tickles my curiosity bone, anyway."
Annie smiled. "I understand. I didn't expect this reaction on Saturday when I bought the painting. I had no idea of its background."