WITH ROMAN IN SAN DIEGO, the big house felt empty, the polished gray French oak floors echoing Grace’s every footstep. She spent the first day painting the studio wall, and then called Selah. “I’ll pick Samuel up after work. He can stay with me this week.”
Selah said he would be too much for her on the job. Grace should leave him with her and keep to the plan for weekends only. Grace insisted she could manage. Selah asked if she had permission. Grace lied and said of course. She hadn’t asked, but why would Roman care, as long as the work got done? When he returned, she might ask if he minded a child in the house.
Selah didn’t think it was a good idea. “Samuel has an appointment with the pediatrician on Thursday. You would have to take time off for that, and you know how fussy he is after a shot. He always runs a fever. It’ll be much better for him to stay here with me.”
Grace bristled. Why did it have to be a tug-of-war? “I want more time with my son, Selah.”
“I know you do, chiquita, but you must think of what’s best for him. Samuel will be bouncing back and forth enough as it is, staying with you on weekends. He needs continuity. You don’t want him to feel like a yo-yo, do you?”
Grace wanted to insist, but she felt selfish for pressing. Selah was probably right. Samuel might not be content entertaining himself in a playpen in her office. She wouldn’t be able to put duty aside to play with him whenever he or she wanted. Selah would be able to see to his every need. “I suppose you’re right.”
“Everything in good time, chiquí. He’s doing so well. Everything will work out just as it should.” Selah’s mantra—and true enough.
Grace went shopping for guest room furniture and bedding and didn’t spend anything close to forty thousand dollars. By the time Roman returned, all would be in place, including the few touches she had added to make the room more welcoming. Back at the house, she checked the office voice mail and found a message from Roman. “Where are you? Call me.” He sounded irritated and repeated his cell phone number twice. “Call me!” She added it to her contacts, but called him back on the office line. He didn’t even give her a chance to say hi.
“Why didn’t you answer the phone?”
“I’ve been shopping for bedroom furniture.”
“Oh.”
“I just got back. Your guest room will be furnished by the end of the week. Stickley Whitehall.” Hopefully that information made it clear she hadn’t been sunning herself on a beach in Malibu.
“Whatever that is.” He sounded calmer. “Am I going to like it?”
“I don’t know, but your guests will be very comfortable.”
“Guest. Singular. Jasper. What about sheets, blankets—?”
“Purchased. Jasper will have two pillows from which to choose. I’ll make the bed as soon as everything arrives.” She told him how much, and hoped he was a man of his word and wouldn’t yell at her. “It’s the kind of furniture that will grow in value.”
“I’m sure it’s perfect.”
He sounded distracted. Did he have something else on his mind? “I have some messages for you.” One from his financial adviser, another from a Realtor who had a buyer if he was interested in selling. Roman told her to tell the financial adviser he’d be in touch after the art show, and he wasn’t ready to sell.
Grace gave a soft laugh. “I’m glad to hear that. I just moved in.”
“Oh?” He laughed low. “Are you sleeping in my bed?”
“I meant the cottage, of course.” At least he was in a better mood. “Do you have anything else you want me to do around here other than the usual? Anything that doesn’t involve entering your bedroom or studio? I did repaint your wall, by the way. You didn’t say I couldn’t.” When he was silent, she wondered if she’d overstepped. “I hope that’s all right.”
“Just thinking. You could deliver the last painting instead of having Talia pick it up.”
“I’ve heard Laguna Beach is a lovely town.”
“You’ve never been there?”
“Nope. All I’ve ever seen is what’s between Fresno and Los Angeles. Now I can add Topanga Canyon, Burbank, and the supermarket at Malibu.” She hadn’t had the money or time to travel. “Someday I’ll make it to Disneyland.” With Samuel.
“You’ve lived a sheltered life, haven’t you? Well, here’s your big opportunity if you want to hand-deliver the piece. Which reminds me. I need your cell phone number.”
Grace dispensed it without hesitation.
“When I call, pick up.”
“Yes, boss.” As soon as Roman hung up, she downloaded a suitable ringtone, then called Talia to set a time to meet at the gallery the next day.
Talia Reisner didn’t look anything like the hard-edged businesswoman Grace expected. Dressed in a tiered, multicolored skirt and peasant blouse with a chunky turquoise-and-red coral necklace, her mass of curling red-and-gray hair pulled up in a loose chignon and held by Japanese hairpins, she looked like an aging love child from Haight-Ashbury.
“Grace Moore! It’s nice to finally meet you in person.” Talia ignored the extended hand and hugged Grace. “Did you know there was a movie star by the same name? Grace Moore was around long before you were born and could sing like a nightingale. Where’s the painting?”
Grace opened the trunk of her car. Talia reached in and carefully extracted Roman’s most recent painting. “Oh, look what the boy has done this time.”
The boy again. Grace couldn’t help but laugh. She closed the empty trunk and followed Talia inside.
The gallery had several showrooms with a variety of paintings, not walls laden with modern art as Grace had imagined. She paused to admire an oil of an elegant Renaissance vase filled with purple lilacs that looked so real she could almost breathe in the scent. She liked another of blue herons among reeds. A display pedestal showed off a bronze whale and calf; another, a pod of six dolphins. A large pottery platter looked like a star-studded night sky. Grace leaned in and read the price. “Oh, my!”
“We go for the gusto.”
“Everything in here costs more than I’ll ever make in a year.”
Talia carefully placed Roman’s painting against a wall. “So? What do you think of it?”
“I’m hardly one to ask.”
“Because you know what you like, and it’s not modern art.” She gave Grace a sly smile. “I’ll tell you a secret. I wasn’t wild about Roman’s work in the beginning either.” Talia stood back and studied the painting as she talked. “He came in here with a chip on his shoulder the size of a boulder. He’d been up and down the row, and no one would even look at what he had in his car.” She laughed. “He was ticked off. Do you know what he said to me? ‘Just take a look. If it’s no good, I’m out the door.’ In much more colorful language, of course.” Talia tilted her head. “I know exactly what kind of frame this one needs.” She picked up the painting and moved it into her office.
Grace followed. “What changed your mind?”
“Nothing ventured, nothing gained, as they say. And it was a very slow day. I told him to bring in his best. He lined up a couple of paintings and wandered off while I studied them. I was going to say sorry, but then a customer came in. I can tell a serious buyer when I see one. He went through the gallery on a mission and stopped at Roman’s paintings. He wanted to buy one on the spot. I told him I hadn’t put a price on it yet. When he handed me his card, I knew I had something special. Roman had caught the attention of a curator from one of the finest modern art museums in the country. He was in Laguna Beach on holiday, just for the day. Talk about coincidence. He bought Roman’s first piece. For his private collection. An investment, he called it.”
Grace looked at the painting again. “Clearly, I don’t appreciate art.”