Roman figured he wasn’t going to learn anything if he didn’t cool off. “Grace said you took her in after her parents died.”
“Yes.” She paused, assessing him. “I was the only family left, and she was only seven. I had to fly back to Memphis and sort things out. Hardly an easy thing to do, considering the circumstances. And then I brought her back here to Fresno to live with me.”
“Circumstances?”
She raised that brow again. “Are you on a fishing expedition, Mr. Velasco? You’ll have to ask Grace for details. She may not remember everything, in which case, you’ll have to do some research. It’s all in the public record.”
The doorbell rang. Elizabeth stood, ending the conversation. Excusing herself, she went inside, leaving the glass door open. Roman could hear Grace, Elizabeth, and another woman talking indistinctly. An older woman in a black-and-white polka-dot dress followed Elizabeth outside. Her gray hair was cut short, her blue eyes warm and openly curious. She didn’t wait for formal introductions, but came toward him with a hand outstretched. “I’m Miranda Spenser, and you are the famous Roman Velasco! It’s such a pleasure to meet you.” She glanced at Elizabeth’s rigid face, and wasn’t cowed into silence. “We’ve been curious since Grace mentioned her new job. I don’t have to ask how she’s doing. She always gives her best to anything she does.”
Grace came outside with a tray and set it on the table. She served coffee to Miranda first and poured a cup of tea and added a slice of lemon for her aunt. She handed him a frosty glass of lemonade before cutting slices of Bundt cake. He noticed Grace took nothing for herself. Miranda settled in another wicker chair, less royal than Elizabeth’s. “Tell us about yourself, Roman. I’ve never met an artist, and the Internet didn’t tell us much about you, just about your work, which is very interesting, by the way. You don’t seem to settle on any one particular style.”
Roman had come to learn about Grace, not to talk about himself.
Grace gave him a sympathetic look. “Have some cake, Miranda.” Grace handed her a thick slice.
Anything to stop the questions. “There’s not much else to say.”
“Are you a believer?” Miranda held his gaze.
He didn’t understand. “A believer of what?”
“Take that as a no.” Elizabeth’s faint smirk told him she was enjoying his discomfort.
Miranda didn’t seem put off, but spared him an interrogation as she attempted to catch up on Grace’s life. Was she still taking night classes? How was Samuel? How was she managing? Grace answered in generalities and turned the focus back on him. She talked about his work and then the gallery show in Laguna Beach. “All of Roman’s paintings sold before the end of the evening.” She told them about Golden and the request for a mural representing the history of the area, but didn’t admit they hadn’t even bothered driving through the place. She was rambling, nervous, and the women knew it.
“How many days have you been on the road?”
“We left Tuesday morning.”
When they exchanged a look, Roman decided to rescue her from further questions. “I took her to the Masterson Ranch, where I was incarcerated for three years. The proprietors are close friends of mine.” That made the two women forget all about Grace and any possible sins she might have been tempted to commit along the road.
“Incarcerated?” Miranda repeated, eyes wide.
Google wouldn’t have that information. “For painting graffiti.”
Elizabeth studied him over her cup of tea. “From illegitimate art to legitimate.”
“Some people believe art should be free.”
She put her teacup on her saucer. “And yet you’ve allowed yourself to become a capitalist.”
Pale and tense, Grace stood and collected dessert plates. He wanted to take them from her and dump everything in Elizabeth Walker’s lap. Elizabeth smiled slightly. “Sit, Grace.” She spoke gently this time. She stood and took the tray. “Everything is fine.” When Grace sat, Roman saw bewilderment, then tears glisten, before she regained control.
Grace watched Roman grow edgier as Miranda talked about church and faith and how much it had always meant to Grace when she was growing up. “She memorized more Scriptures than any student in my class.”
“I think he can handle Miranda,” Aunt Elizabeth said softly. “Come with me. I want to show you some of the changes I’ve made in the garden since you were last here.”
Grace steeled herself for the inevitable questions about Samuel and what she was going to do about the future. They walked together in tense silence.
Her aunt sighed. “Do you like working for this man?”
“Yes. More as time goes on.”
Aunt Elizabeth looked back at the two sitting beneath the pergola. “Well, thankfully, he’s not like Patrick. I saw through him the first time I met him. This man isn’t so easy to read. He doesn’t like to talk about himself, and what he did say wasn’t something to make himself look good.”
“I don’t think Roman cares what people think.”
“It was his idea to stop by, wasn’t it?”
“I didn’t think you’d want to see me. You told me what you thought about my situation.”
“I’ve had time to think more clearly. Not that I’ve changed my mind about certain things.”
Grace looked away. “I understand. Believe me, I do.” Sometimes the shame was almost overwhelming, until she held her son. She was surprised to feel her aunt’s light touch on her arm.
“I had no right to condemn you or say the things I did, Grace.”
Grace’s eyes filled with quick tears. It was the closest to an apology she had ever received from her aunt.
“How are you doing?” Aunt Elizabeth sounded concerned.
“I haven’t made a decision. I know what I want, but I don’t know if it’s best.” She shook her head, unable to say more.
“You and I need to talk about our family, Grace.” Aunt Elizabeth sounded burdened by the past, and Grace knew why. She didn’t want to hear what she had overheard already.
She decided to change the subject. “The garden is beautiful.”
“He’s been watching us, you know.”
Grace glanced at Roman. “He probably wants to go.”
Aunt Elizabeth pinched off a few dead blossoms. “I’ve been cautious my entire life, Grace. Maybe too cautious.” She tossed the dead petals into the garden.
“You were right about Patrick. You tried to warn me. I didn’t want to listen.”
“Yes, I was right, but that doesn’t mean you can never trust your heart again.” She nodded toward Roman. “He wants to know more about you. You’re on firmer ground now. You know how deceptive the heart can be.” She headed back toward the patio. “Don’t hide away and punish yourself for the rest of your life. It’s no way to live.”
Roman watched Grace while listening to Miranda. The woman talked about “the Lord” as though God was a friend and was sitting in the garden with them right now. This must be the source of Grace’s brainwashing. Grace seemed more relaxed when she joined him beneath the pergola. Whatever her aunt had said seemed to have stripped away the tension. He knew he wasn’t going to learn anything hanging around this house, and Miranda Spenser made him uncomfortable with her Jesus talk. When he stood, the three women understood he and Grace were leaving.
Elizabeth Walker escorted him through the house, while Miranda and Grace took their time following. “I’m glad you stopped by, Roman.”
“Are you?” He didn’t believe that for a second.
“I was as curious about you as you are about me.”
He hadn’t learned much about anything. “If I had to guess, I’d say I don’t meet with your approval.”
“You weren’t looking for it, were you? You’re here to audit my niece’s life.”
Roman didn’t feel like sparring with her. “You did a great job raising her.”