The Masterpiece

  “Yes. You will.”

  Roman would need a handler.

  Grace returned to the cottage. It was going to be a long, tense evening, if this morning had been any indication. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about what to wear. Shanice had taken her shopping last week. “You’ve been out to coffee and dinners with Brian, but this is your chance to shine, girl! You need to dress up!” She knew of a classy boutique in North Hollywood that sold gently used designer clothing at great prices. They found the perfect little black dress with a ballet neckline, fitted waist, and straight skirt. “Grace, you’re a stunner in that dress!”

  “No one will be looking at me, Shanice. This is Roman’s night.”

  “You’re there with Brian. We want him looking at you. Leave your hair down. If I had hair like yours, I’d let it grow to my waist.”

  She’d kept it short for a year or so, but it was getting longer now. Patrick liked long hair, so she let it grow while they were together. He also liked blondes, so she bleached her hair. She was glad to be past that nonsense.

  With a few extra hours on her hands, Grace checked to see if she had any new responses to her post for a babysitter. Three applicants had answered Grace’s questions and left references. Grace made a few calls and eliminated two. The third had already taken a position as a full-time nanny.

  Grace took her time getting ready. When Brian arrived, Grace didn’t have to wonder if she looked good. His gaze took her in from her legs to her hair. “Wow!” His response pleased her. She said he looked very handsome in his black suit. He admitted it was a gift from a lady parishioner, a widow whose husband had been active in a Masonic lodge. Brian had needed a good suit to perform weddings. He grinned and said he figured it was appropriate for a gallery gala.

  Grace wondered if Roman had a suit and felt a shiver of alarm that she hadn’t thought to ask.

  She and Brian talked all the way to Laguna Beach about upcoming youth events, the latest local, state, and international news, and his plans for a summer mission trip to Mexico. His kids had held a couple of fund-raisers. Brian had enough adults already signed up to help mentor and monitor the students.

  Talia knew how to be a show as well as run one. She looked like a colorful work of art in a Bohemian caftan. She shook hands with Brian and hugged Grace. “You’re stunning! This evening is going to be fantastic! I feel it in my bones!” She beamed with excitement. “I’ll bet we sell every one of Roman’s paintings before nine.” She leaned in closer. “Even with the ridiculous prices I’ve put on them.”

  It didn’t surprise Grace when Roman came in wearing black jeans and a white V-neck T-shirt under a black leather bomber jacket. What did surprise her was the way her heart quickened. Dismayed, she looked away and met Jasper Hawley’s gaze. He spread his hands as though helpless to do anything about Roman.

  Talia groaned. “I should have known he’d rather be dead than caught in a suit.”

  Grace knew Talia wouldn’t have cared if Roman showed up shirtless and in jogging shorts, as long as he came to the party.

  Roman hated crowds. He hated being the focus of attention. He hated even more when people talked as though they understood his art and knew something about the way his mind worked based on what he painted. At least he had the satisfaction of watching them pay through the nose for pieces that didn’t mean anything, let alone reveal hidden secrets about his psyche. Someday, someone would figure out he was a fraud with no pedigree, education, or real talent.

  Someone touched his arm—a voluptuous blonde in a designer gown that screamed money. She talked about her search for new talent and how she loved to collect pieces from little-known artists. Her smile left him without doubt what kind of collection she was talking about. A few months ago, he would have taken her up on the invitation. Right now, he was trying to be polite and civilized. He looked at Jasper, thankful when he stepped closer and joined the one-sided conversation. Roman glanced around the room and spotted Grace.

  The black dress fit perfectly. She smiled at Prince Charming, who stood right beside her, dressed in a suit. The guy had his hand at the small of Grace’s back as they talked with an older couple, the touch of ownership. Brian whatever-his-name-was looked like the kind of man who’d fit in anywhere. That guy was a minister? Had he and Grace had sex yet? Did youth ministers even have sex? Why should he care if they had sex or not?

  Roman emptied his glass of champagne and plunked it on a display pedestal with a bronze eagle in flight. A server quickly picked it up.

  “Could you try to smile?” Talia offered Roman a canapé. “Maybe another glass of champagne will help.” She plucked one from a tray and offered it to him.

  “I think I’ve had enough.” He wasn’t talking about champagne.

  Jasper was watching him, too, and had an oddly speculative gleam in his eyes.

  Roman glared at him. “What?”

  “You tell me.” Jasper lifted his glass of bubbly. “I never thought I’d see the day.”

  Roman wanted to put his fist through one of his own paintings, even if it cost him fifty grand. He said a word under his breath that would have rocked Grace, if she’d been near enough to hear. She stood across the room, as far away from him as she could get. He said the word again. He wanted to be anywhere but here. This would be a good night to have a backpack loaded with cans of Krylon. He’d start on the side of his own cottage.

  Grace turned, as though feeling his attention. Their eyes met, and he felt things he knew were going to bring trouble. Someone said something to him, and he pretended to care. The place was buzzing, and he was the center of attention. He should be eating it up. He should be enjoying himself.

  Some man prattled on and on about Roman’s work. Losing patience, Roman excused himself and almost pushed his way through the guests as he headed for the rear of the gallery. Was there a back door out of this place?

  Talia caught up with him before he could get away. “Are you all right?”

  “We shouldn’t have done this.”

  “Of course we should. Do you have any idea who some of these people are?”

  “I don’t give a—!”

  “What is the matter with you tonight?”

  “Just tell everyone I’m a temperamental artist.”

  “They can see that already. You should be happy, Roman. You’ve already made a hundred thousand dollars, and the party isn’t even in full swing.”

  Happy. Yeah, right. He felt hot all over. His heart hammered.

  Roman went into the bathroom and locked the door. Raking his hands through his hair, he tried to relax. He forced himself to breathe slowly. The familiar wave of weakness came. He closed his eyes and swore softly. Squatting, he put his head between his knees, hoping he wouldn’t pass out. Not now. Not here. Was it the champagne? He’d only had two glasses.

  The weakness passed. He gave himself another minute before he stood, and another before he opened the door.

  Grace stood in the dimly lit hallway. “Are you all right, Roman?” Her brown eyes were so full of concern.

  “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “Are you perspiring?” She reached up.

  Roman pulled his head back as though her touch would burn him. She closed her hand and lowered it. The lighting was too dim to see her blush, but he knew he’d embarrassed her. Again. He’d been taking potshots at her all day.

  They stood close, staring at each other. He was having a hard time breathing normally. He wanted to step closer. Was she trembling?

  She inhaled a soft breath. “I didn’t mean to treat you like a mother hen. Do you need anything?”

  You.

  Movement caught his attention. Prince Charming stood at the doorway to the main room. What would the guy do if Roman pulled Grace into his arms right now and kissed her? Roman looked at her again. What would she do? Her expression altered just enough to let him know she sensed something dangerous going on inside his head. She took a step back, and Roman knew what she’d do. She’d
slap his face, quit her job, move out of the cottage, and he’d never see her again.

  It might be worth it. She’d be gone, and he’d be safe.

  “Roman.” Jasper Hawley appeared out of nowhere, and Roman let out his breath. Until that second, he hadn’t known he was holding it. Grace touched his arm before she turned away. Reassurance? She walked down the hall. Brian Henley slipped his hand around her waist and guided her away.

  Jasper tilted his head, studying Roman. “This is something new for you.”

  “I’m not sure I’ll agree to any more of Talia’s ideas.” Roman rubbed the back of his neck. His head was beginning to pound.

  “I wasn’t talking about the show.”

  “What then?” He wasn’t in the mood for Jasper’s cryptic remarks.

  “You can’t keep your eyes off Grace.”

  “She’s supposed to be working!”

  “Are you looking for an excuse to fire her?”

  Roman glared at him. “You said you liked her.”

  “I like her a lot, but it doesn’t matter what I feel. She’s gotten under your skin. You’re not comfortable with the working relationship, are you? Maybe you ought to play it safe and get rid of her.”

  Roman knew what Jasper was doing, but he was in no mood to play the game. “Leave it alone.”

  Jasper stepped in front of him. “What are you afraid of, Bobby Ray?”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with who you are.”

  “And who is that?”

  “You have a real opportunity here, son. A chance for friendship, affection, maybe love. What’re you going to do with it?”

  Roman went hot. “You’ve misread the situation.”

  “Anger. Your favorite hiding place.”

  “Are you done yet?”

  Jasper shook his head, his expression filled with compassion. “Do me a favor. Try not to stamp Grace into the ground so you can put out the fire.” He sighed. “Let it burn, Bobby Ray. Get closer. Get to know her. See what happens.”

  “She doesn’t know what I am.”

  Jasper looked perplexed. “What are you?”

  “You know better than anyone else where I come from. What do I have in common with a girl like her?”

  Jasper let out his breath. “Lord, have mercy. We’re finally getting somewhere.” He stepped closer. “You don’t know Grace any better than she knows you. Take it easy. Listen. Learn. See what happens.”

  Roman wondered if it would be worth the risk.

  Grace sat silent as Brian drove her home after the Laguna art show. It had been a long evening, at times fraught with drama. While she and Brian mingled, she stayed aware of Roman. He’d reminded her that afternoon she would be working during the show, but he avoided her most of the evening. If he needed anything, he didn’t ask her. She’d checked in with Talia, but everything was so well organized she wasn’t needed.

  When Roman headed for the back hall, Grace worried something was wrong. She waited a few minutes before whispering to Brian that she was going to check on her boss. Roman was ashen when he came out of the men’s room. When he’d looked at her, she’d felt the jolt. Even now, sitting in the car with Brian, she felt stirred by Roman’s intensity. What had he been thinking? What would he have said—or done—if Jasper and Brian hadn’t been close?

  After that tense moment in the hall, Roman settled down, talked with people, even smiled a few times. At ten, he was out the door like Cinderella at midnight. Jasper followed. Talia had been exasperated. “I thought you’d keep him here.”

  As if Grace had any control over the man.

  Brian glanced at her. “You’re very quiet.”

  “It was a strange evening.”

  “Is your boss always like that?”

  Like what? Moody, impossible to understand? “Pretty much.”

  “Was the show a success?”

  “I have no doubt. I was a little distracted.”

  Brian gave her a rueful look. “I noticed. What happened between you and Roman in the hall?”

  “Nothing. I thought he might be ill. He said he was fine.” She shook her head. “I think the show mattered more to him than he wanted to admit.”

  Brian made a turn. “The evening was a resounding success from where I was standing. He has quite a few fans.”

  “Especially women,” Grace muttered under her breath. Roman hadn’t been in the gallery five minutes when a blonde in a dress that must have been spray-painted on her approached him. Even from across the room, Grace knew the woman was more interested in the artist than art.

  “Are you worried about him?”

  She lifted her shoulders. “No reason I should be.” She didn’t want to spend any more of the evening thinking about Roman Velasco. “Did you enjoy the show?”

  “Plenty of interesting people there.” He talked about several he’d met. “A couple of lawyers who collect modern art, an airline pilot, an LAPD officer and his wife. I talked with Talia for a few minutes while you were checking on Roman. She’s an interesting lady.”

  Grace grinned. “Guess what she studied in college.”

  “Art history.”

  “That’s what I thought.” She laughed. “Talia majored in economics and marketing.” Grace had learned more about Talia’s personal history over one lunch than she knew about Roman’s after months of working for him. “She went to Cal in the seventies, as a registered Republican. Her boyfriend was in ROTC. They married right out of college so she could get pregnant before he ended up in Vietnam. He made it home, but died of cancer in his forties. She blames Agent Orange, some chemical they sprayed along the rivers to defoliate the jungle. They had a daughter who is now a successful estate planner in Florida. She’s happily married with two boys. Talia flies there once a year to visit.”

  “Not what I expected. How did she end up with the art gallery?”

  “She married the owner. She was his tax consultant. He taught her about art; she taught him about business. They had eleven happy years together before he passed away.”

  Brian turned in to the driveway. Lights were on in the main house. As she and Brian walked along the pathway to her front door, he took her hand. Surprised, she smiled at him, and noticed the lights on in the upstairs studio. What was Roman doing? And why was she thinking about him again?

  She realized Brian hadn’t said anything since he parked the car and helped her out. “Thank you for coming to the gallery with me tonight, Brian.” She slipped her hand from his, took her keys from her purse, and unlocked the door.

  “Can we talk for a few minutes before I go, Grace?”

  She hesitated, wondering if tonight might be a turning point in their relationship. “Do you want to come inside? I can make coffee.”

  Brian glanced at the main house and shook his head. “It’s nice out here.” He’d seen the light on, too. A pastor had to care about appearances. He took her hand again as they sat on the wall together. “I like you, Grace. I like you very much. I think you know that.”

  This was what she’d hoped for, wasn’t it? Why didn’t she feel the least bit excited? “I like you, too, Brian.” She tensed when he raised his hand and tucked her hair over her shoulder.

  “May I kiss you?”

  She’d only kissed two men in her life, and neither had asked permission. Covering her surprise, she said yes. Curious what she would feel, she leaned forward and met him halfway.

  Brian’s kiss was tender and unhurried, pleasant. She didn’t feel the faint stirrings she had with Patrick, the promise of something that never happened. She hadn’t felt much more with Samuel’s father.

  Someday her son would grow up and ask who his father was. What could she say? I met him at a club. When he asked if I wanted to go to his place, I said yes. You were the result. If she surrendered Samuel to Selah and Ruben, she wouldn’t have to confess. Selah could tell him honestly that she’d planned for and chosen him to be her son.

  And why was he
r mind wandering hither and yon when Brian Henley was kissing her?

  Brian drew back, his expression enigmatic.

  “What’s wrong, Grace?”

  “I’m not good enough for you.”

  “We’re all sinners, and friendship is a good place to start a lasting relationship. It’s how Charlene and I started.” He took her hands and stood, drawing her up with him.

  Grace was again relieved not to feel any particular physical attraction. She had been enamored by Patrick, and that relationship had been a disaster. The second, worse. She’d allowed anger and hurt to excuse a night of following the crowd of irresponsible young adults who thought casual sex was perfectly all right between consenting adults. She’d been lonely and miserable, desperate to feel something, anything. She barely remembered the evening, but she remembered waking up in the middle of the night in a stranger’s bed. Throwing on her clothes, she’d fled. She ran down the beach, crying, and up onto the road, where she’d had enough sense to arrange for an Uber.

  She liked Brian. He was kind and caring. He was handsome. They could talk about anything and everything. They had faith in common. She wanted to live a life pleasing to God, and Brian’s clear calling was to serve the Lord. She felt safe with Brian, no hint of temptation. Surely, that was a good sign.

  “Are you up for a hike on Solstice Canyon Trail next Saturday? I’ll get a pack so I can carry Samuel.”

  “Sounds wonderful.”

  “I’ll call you tomorrow.” He leaned in and kissed her softly on the mouth. Grace wished she felt a spark.

  She tossed her purse on the table. If hiking was Brian’s favorite form of entertainment, she’d better invest in something more than tennis shoes. She’d need hiking boots. Maybe Roman would allow her to use the exercise room so she could build enough muscle to shoulder a pack. She let out a mirthless laugh.

  She changed into pajamas, washed her face, and brushed her teeth. She heard Elvis Presley singing “Big Boss Man.” Heart racing, she went into the kitchen and pulled her phone from her purse. Glancing at the microwave clock, she answered. “It’s after midnight, Roman.”