The High Season(92)

“Why would Simone conceal it?” Joe asked.

“I don’t know.”

“They split everything down the middle during the divorce. Which means, I think, that since this was painted before the divorce, technically half of it belongs to Peter’s estate and half to Simone’s.”

“Adeline owns half the painting.” How could they have been so stupid? They were the most inept criminals in criminality. “So it’s not Lucas’s to sell, then,” Ruthie said.

“I’m not a lawyer, but no. There’s no paperwork, so he can’t prove it was a gift to her from Peter. And logically, why would it be? In any case Lucas is morally obligated to inform his stepmother and offer it to her first. That’s what I told Daniel. He wasn’t happy. Or maybe the word morally confused him. The thing is…”

“The thing is?”

“What do you think? You know his work as well as I do.”

    “What do you mean?”

“The painting. Something. That’s why I wanted to ask you.” He shrugged. “Lucas—do you know him well?”

“Not really.”

“Me neither. But I did know Simone. She was not an easy person, and God knows at the end she hated Peter with every cell of her body, but…she was honest. A no-bullshit person. She either concealed the painting—which I can’t quite believe—or forgot she had it, it was overlooked, which is beyond comprehension. Lucas said the storage unit was rented when she moved from Sag Harbor. So at that point, she knew she had it. So why throw it in a storage unit? She was out of money a few years later. She left Lucas almost nothing.”

Ruthie leaned against the car to conceal the fact that her legs were shaking. “Are you saying it could be a fake? That Lucas might know it’s a fake?”

“I’m not saying anything. I just wouldn’t say that he’s automatically trustworthy. I know Adeline has had trouble with him. And this…could hurt her.”

“You want to protect her.”

“I’m used to protecting the Clay family. I did it for years. I still do consulting work for the foundation. When you’re someone’s dealer, you’re their best friend and their confidant and their attack dog. So, habit.”

His gaze moved, absently, to the leaves fluttering.

She needed to say something. She needed to say, This has nothing to do with me. She needed to lie. She needed to take the painting and run.

A low, distant rumble of thunder. “It’s going to storm,” he said.





59


“I’M NOT HAVING as much fun as I thought I would,” Shari said.

Doe sat in the grass. It was dusk now, the sun behind the trees, a few fireflies flitting, turning off and turning on. The party was just about over. “Yeah. Time to go.”

“Lucas dumped me here and took off with a blonde. I mean, I’m not mad, I get it, I’m not his date or anything, but he didn’t introduce me to anyone and the way he took off was kind of rude. I know he’s a friend of yours, so. Sorry.”

“He’s not a friend.” Doe collapsed backward and looked up at the sky, an inverted bowl of murk, like diner gravy spilling down onto her head.

Starting over again would be exhausting.

“How’s your foot?”

“Fine.”

“I hope you put cream on it or something. Listen, I knew your girlfriend was rich, but this is ridiculous. There’s, like, crab puffs and caviar.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“And Lucas isn’t your friend. So why are you here?”

    “Mom, do me a favor. Don’t talk.”

“I wore the wrong thing, didn’t I.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’ll drive us home.” Doe looked up through the trees for the moon, but couldn’t find it. Clouds covered the sky. The leaves were making a scratchy sound, as if the edges were already dry. A sudden strong gust fluttered the edge of her dress. Weather blowing in from the sea.

“The girl was pretty,” Shari said. “The blonde. I mean the one Lucas was with. She looked really young, though.”

Doe had seen Jem, wall-flowering on the edges of the party. She sat up. “What was she wearing? The blonde?”

“I don’t know, a blue top? It was a pretty color. Everybody else here is so boring. No color at all.”

“Did you see where they went?”

Shari waved a hand. “That way. Toward that bouncy castle.”

Doe sprang up. “She’s fifteen, Mom.”

“Fifteen?”

“Ruthie’s daughter.”

“That nice Ruthie?” Shari stood up, too.

Doe looked toward the castle. A blast of wind lifted it off the ground at least a foot. The ropes shuddered. She remembered back in his studio, Dodge saying something about wind, about what the regulations were. He had the safest crew in New York, he said. Yeah, but they actually had to be there. Lark was supposed to keep an eye on things, direct them. She was the curator, she was the one to keep them on schedule. And she was gone. They were scheduled to dismantle everything fifteen minutes ago.

A seagull cried, one of those annoying sharp yelps.

Did seagulls cry at night? Or was it a scream?