“I should think the owners would be overjoyed at the discovery.”
“Well, there’s a dispute over whether the items were actually stolen or just accidentally hidden away for some seventy years.”
Her eyes were focused on something in the distance. “I’ll be interested to see the photographs.”
“Here we are.” I led the way up the wide steps of the town hall and into the exhibit space.
“Amazing,” Elizabeth whispered. She gazed around at the impressive display, walked to the ends of each aisle to check what was there, and then headed straight for the group of pictures detailing the Dancing Woman painting, the one I thought had been painted in the style of Renoir. She stared at each one of the photos for a long time and seemed to have forgotten I was there. I was fine with that, just happy to know that someone could be so engrossed in the exhibit.
I left her alone and wandered over to the next row, where the photos of the furniture were hanging. I loved the details of the inlaid wood that Robin had managed to capture with her camera and my excellent lighting.
“It just figures you’d be here.”
I turned and found Noland Garrity glaring at me. I couldn’t think of anything pleasant to say, so I waited for him to speak.
“This isn’t art,” he said derisively. “It’s a pitiful excuse. I get nothing out of it. I need access to the caves, and if I can’t obtain keys from your boyfriend, I’ll go directly to Robson myself.”
“Robson is a busy man,” I said, trying for the equanimity I’d seen Derek display. “If you need access, Derek will assist you. Just call his cell number. He made it clear, he’s available whenever you are.”
“I just called him, and he can’t be there until three o’clock. What am I supposed to do until then?”
I checked my watch. “It’s two thirty. I think you’ll live till three.” So much for equanimity. I couldn’t help the snarky comment. What was this guy’s problem? I wanted to smack him.
“You have been nothing but rude and sarcastic and—”
“Good-bye, Mr. Garrity.” I said it quickly and walked away before he could insult or threaten me any further because I would have to pound him into sand if he did. For the next ten minutes I skimmed the outer edges of the room until I saw him walk out the door. I breathed more easily.
What a crank! I didn’t care if he knew everything there was to know about art. He was a horrible man who didn’t have a clue about how to get along with people. I just prayed that he didn’t treat Guru Bob the way he treated me.
I would have to remember to ask Derek to check with Interpol soon. If nothing in the caves had been reported stolen, we wouldn’t need Mr. Garrity’s services anymore.
But I knew Robson wouldn’t get rid of the odious man until he had done a complete and thorough appraisal of everything found in the cave. Robson had expressed concern that in the case of a family member dying and leaving no heirs, we would have to dispose of the heirloom somehow. The most equitable way to handle it, we decided, was to sell the item to a museum or reputable collector and divide the proceeds among the remaining families. For that to be done fairly, an appraiser had to establish its value.
“Hey, you.”
I jolted, still nervous that Garrity might sneak up on me. But this was Robin, so I relaxed instantly.
“Hi!” It was always good to see my best friend, and now I’d have a chance to introduce Elizabeth to her as well. I gave her a big hug and shook off the residual effects of Noland Garrity. “Are you working here today?”
“Not today. I brought Austin and Jackson in to see the photos.”
“That’s great. I know they’ll love them.”
My brothers were only a step or two behind Robin, and deep in conversation, probably discussing dirt or something equally captivating.
“Hi, guys.”
“Hey, Brooks,” Jackson said, giving me a one-armed hug. I always got a kick out of seeing Jackson after having him gone for so long. He’d spent ten years doing some job he never talked about that kept him out of the country. Once he was back home, Guru Bob enlisted him to travel for the Fellowship and the winery for two more years. Again, the reasons for all that travel weren’t mentioned, at least not to my mother and me. Apparently, Jackson was good at keeping secrets. In any case, he was home for good now, and my family was glad of it. For the past year, he’d been managing the vineyards and doing a great job.
I stared at the two men I’d grown up with and couldn’t help but admire them. They were both tall and good-looking, with dark blond hair like my dad. Today Jackson wore a faded denim jacket over a black T-shirt with black jeans and boots, the original cowboy hunk. Austin was dressed a bit more in the “Sonoma style” with his chambray shirt tucked into a pair of well-worn jeans. And boots. Either way, they were both pretty hunky, if I did say so myself.