If I Didn't Know Better (The Callaways #9)(72)

"No, I don't know her, but Ken has been back here for over a year now. He knows lots of people I don't."

"I got the feeling their friendship went back longer than a year."

"Maybe. Kent has always had more friends than me. He was a lot more outgoing than I was when we were growing up. Barton was the same. I was the quiet one when I was with those two." He paused, giving her a thoughtful look. "It sounds like you think something strange was going on."

"I just had an odd feeling when I saw them arguing; I don't really know why."

"Do you want me to ask him?"

"Of course not. It's none of my business. Forget I said anything."

"You know, Mia, it occurs to me that some of the artists who stayed here might not be completely sane. It might not be safe for you to stay alone in the house."

She smiled at his latest attempt to convince her to stay with him. "I'm not worried about crazy artists, Jeremy. I think you just want to get me into your bed."

"Well, I do want that, but I'm also concerned about the vandalism and the odd reactions you're getting from the artists."

"I appreciate that, but I'll be fine. I'll lock all the doors, and I'll put my phone by my bed. If I hear anything, you'll be my first call."

"I better be."

She leaned over and gave him a kiss. "Goodnight, Jeremy. I had a great time."

"So did I."

She got out of the car and forced herself to walk across the lawn. When she reached the porch, she waved to Jeremy, who was watching to make sure she got in okay. Then she locked the door behind her and mentally kicked herself for choosing a night alone instead of a night in bed with one of the sexiest men she'd ever been with. But it was the smart choice, wasn't it?

Her brain said yes; her body said hell, no.

But it was better this way. She needed to get some distance, some perspective, some plan for how she was ever going to say good-bye to him.





Eighteen

At ten o'clock, Christina Wykoff walked into Mia's backyard, once again choosing not to ring the bell.

Mia had anticipated her arrival and had spent the past hour cleaning up the patio and putting the entire group of paintings in one spot so that Christina could easily take her painting and go.

Christina was dressed more casually today in skinny white jeans and a sleeveless blouse. But there was still a cool air about her. Most of the people in Angel's Bay were warm and friendly, but not Christina.

"Hello, how are you this morning?" Mia asked.

"Fine. Are these all the paintings?"

"Yes. Is one of them yours?"

Christina looked at the paintings on display and frowned. "No, mine isn't here."

"Really? What did it look like?"

"An abstract maze. I drew squares and rectangles; it was a metaphor for my life at the time. Have you seen it?"

"I'm sorry, I haven't. It's possible my aunt did something with it or that it was unfortunately destroyed during some vandalism that occurred in the studio a few days ago."

"A few days ago?" Christina asked, raising an eyebrow. "Since I was last here?"

"Yes. Some of the paintings were ripped apart."

"You couldn't salvage them?"

"No, I could only throw them away." She could see that Christina was not happy about her reply. "I will say, though, that the description of your painting doesn't ring a bell. I don't remember seeing anything that looked like an abstract maze."

"Well, what would your aunt have done with it?"

For a moment, she thought about the paintings she'd seen in her aunt's closet, but none of them fit Christina's description. "I have no idea. I'm sorry. If it comes to light, I'll contact you, but you can certainly be assured it won't be part of the show I'm putting together, so you don't have to worry about that."

Christina didn't look satisfied by her words. "Are there any paintings in the house?"

"No."

"Really? Not one painting? Your aunt was an art lover. I can't believe her walls are bare."

"Your painting isn't in the house," she said, lifting her chin as Christina sent her an angry look. "You're going to have to trust me on that. And, frankly, your painting was payment for your stay here. It belongs to my aunt's estate. However, I am trying to be sympathetic to your feelings. If I see anything that looks remotely like it, I will let you know, but I can tell you right now that I've been through everything, and I don't believe it is anywhere on this property."

Christina stared back at her through angry, frustrated eyes. "All right. I guess I'll have to live with that."

After Christina left, Mia blew out a breath, feeling unsettled by their conversation. She didn't like the interest Christina had expressed in getting into the house, but she reminded herself that the locksmith had changed the locks so the house should be secure. If someone wanted to come back here and steal everything in sight, she couldn't stop them. But she also couldn't worry about it anymore. There was nowhere else to put anything. Hopefully, once she spoke to Didi Eckhart, she could take the paintings to the gallery and move on with the showing.

"Hello? Hello? Anyone back here?" A woman's voice rang through the air. A moment later, Rita Phelps walked into the yard, wearing a flowing, colorful maxi dress and sandals. "Mia, there you are. I rang the bell."