Maybe one of the previous keys also opened this one. I stepped down and made circles with my shoulders, trying to work out the kinks from my position. Time was passing. I could see the light outside the window starting to fade. Just this one cabinet, and then I would go.
I sorted keys and headed up again. Probably the dang thing was empty or had nothing but dried-out oil paints. But I’d gotten this far.
The first key wouldn’t go in. The second one slid in but wouldn’t turn. I jiggled it carefully to be sure. Nope.
The third key was way too large. The fourth too small.
The fifth slid in again.
I dropped my arms, letting blood flow back into my hands. Still at least six of these cabinets to unlock some other day. I glanced around. Albert sure had a lot of storage in here.
I reached up and jiggled the key. Yes. I felt the lock twist and tugged the handle.
The door was open, but I couldn’t really see inside. It was too high. I needed a taller ladder. I jumped down and made a note on my sketch of the cabinets that key #5 opened it.
Taller ladder. I hadn’t seen one anywhere in the house. But I hadn’t searched the four-car garage. The one time I popped my head in there, I spotted Albert’s small Alfa Romeo and a ton of shop machine tools. Everything there seemed in order, so I hadn’t explored.
But before I could leave, something moved beyond the bushes outside the wall of windows. I paused, peering out. A car was pulling up to the driveway. I couldn’t see it clearly, due to the shrubbery.
I had gotten the exterior door cleared, although it wasn’t easy to open, sticking unless you jerked on it. I braced my feet and clasped the handle. After a couple sharp tugs, it pulled free.
The cool evening breeze was refreshing. I always forgot how dense the air in the studio was, heavy with the smells of old paints and chemicals. I stepped out so I could see the circle drive.
It was Darion.
He stood beside his Mercedes, looking up at the front doors. He hadn’t been here before. How had he gotten in the gate?
“Darion?” I said.
He turned and spotted me, giving me a broad smile. He wore jeans and a sweatshirt, so his shift was long over. I swallowed my guilt. I really had lost track of time.
He turned back to his car and removed a picnic basket. I recognized it from the place we’d gone to on an early date, when I first saw the cliff where I would paint the image of me and Peanut. My throat tightened. Darion always knew what to do.
“Figured you’d be hungry by now,” he said, striding over.
“How did you get in the gate?”
“A little trick an ambulance driver told me.” He held out his hand to me.
I took it. “Oh,” I said. “I’m glad you’re here.” And I tried to be. This was Darion. I should be happy to see him. But still, I felt uneasy, like my secret life was getting exposed.
I looked back at the house. “Do you want the grim tour?”
“Maybe later.” He still held the smile, but I could see the question in his eyes. The how are you?
“Good idea,” I said, forcing a smile of my own. “It might make you lose your appetite.”
He pulled me tight against him as we walked back to the studio door. He gestured to the gray brick walls by lifting the basket. “Cheerful.”
“I know. Albert was not exactly a picture of mental health during the years he lived here.” I let go of Darion so we could pass through the door.
He stopped once he got inside to look over the room. “Wow. This is a nice setup.” He placed the basket on an empty counter and walked around, looking at easels and some of the completed paintings. He paused in front of an image of a sunflower. “That doesn’t seem like Albert.”
“I’m trying to identify the artist,” I said. “There were some students and interns working here too.”
Darion nodded. He glanced up and noticed the step stool and open cabinet, the key ring still stuck inside the lock. “Were you able to reach that?”
“I was looking for a taller ladder when you arrived,” I said.
He headed for the wall. “You want me to pull down whatever’s up there?”
“Sure.” I stuffed down my resistance, the need to go through Albert’s things alone. This was Darion. Maybe sharing the moment with him would help.
He stepped up. He could easily reach inside. “Sort of dark,” he said, “but it looks like some wrapped paintings.” He turned and stuck his arm farther back. “And something bulky.”
“Be careful,” I said, my excitement rising. Finished works! I knew it! I just hoped they were Albert’s, and not someone else’s being stored.
Darion pulled down a strangely shaped parcel in brown paper. I hurried over and took it from him. The point of something sharp poked my arm as I held it.
I set it on the desk and waited for Darion to bring down the paintings. They were also carefully taped up in brown paper. He brought them over to the desk.
“This is like a treasure hunt,” Darion said. “An archaeological dig, maybe.”
I carefully peeled the paper away from what felt like a sculpture. Hopefully it wasn’t just some old piece of equipment.
But when the glint of a twisting gold horn was revealed, I knew exactly what I had found.