Lost and Found

  “I miscalculated,” he said. In ways he hadn’t even realized until too late, he added silently.

  He moved on to the next tapestry, a scene of seventeenth-century French court life in all its elegance, charm and stunning decadence.

  Gabriella hurried after him. “You never miscalculate.”

  “Everyone makes mistakes.”

  “Does this have something to do with that new freelancer you’ve been using lately? The one you said had a special expertise in European decorative arts?”

  That question gave him serious pause. He still wasn’t accustomed to the occasional flashes of adult insight that were starting to come with increasing frequency from his daughter.

  “What makes you think it has anything to do with her?” he asked.

  “Give me some credit here, Dad. You’ve used a lot of consultants over the years, but I knew there was something different about this one the first time you mentioned her.”

  “Yeah? How did you come to that conclusion?” He was stalling. Sometimes it worked with teenagers. They were so focused on themselves and their own problems, so preoccupied with the business of becoming an adult, that they didn’t always pick up on the fact that other people were not supplying full answers.

  “I don’t know.” Gabriella’s brows came together in an uneasy frown. “It’s the way you talk about her, I guess. You get sort of quiet whenever her name comes up in the conversation. If I ask you about her, you just tell me how good she is. What a great eye she has.”

  “She is good. I’d swear she’s got a sixth sense where fakes are concerned. Terrific instincts when it comes to tracing missing art, too.”

  Hell, Cady was good enough to follow through on her threat, he thought. She could become his competition. She certainly had the skills and the contacts to handle a lot of the trace work. The thought of her doing recovery, however, was nothing short of appalling. Granted, nine times out of ten there was little physical danger involved. But occasionally, as the Vandyke job had so graphically illustrated, matters got complicated. Cady knew nothing about that end of the business. The first time things went wrong, she would be in big trouble.

  He winced, thinking of her parting shot. “If I need muscle, I’m sure I can hire it.”

  “You’ve used other freelancers who were good, but you never got that tone in your voice when you told me about them.”

  “Gabriella—”

  “Come off it, Dad, this case was the first time you met Cady Briggs in person, and you come back acting weird. Something happened, I know it.”

  Gabriella wasn’t going to allow herself to be distracted, he realized as he moved on to the next tapestry. He studied the unicorn in the scene in front of him.

  “Miss Briggs went outside normal procedures,” he said carefully. “There were some problems in the recovery. Everything turned out all right in the end, but we had to get the police involved.”

  Gabriella brightened visibly. “You mean Miss Briggs screwed up?”

  “I wouldn’t put it quite like that.”

  “She did screw up. I can tell. She screwed up royally, didn’t she?” Gabriella looked very satisfied now. “So, did you fire her?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Why not? You just said that she didn’t follow procedures and that you had to call in the cops. You’ve always told me that, whenever possible, you try to recover objects for your clients without involving the authorities. That’s the reason people come to Lost and Found in the first place. They don’t want publicity and attention.”

  “Sometimes you can’t avoid it. This was one of those situations.”

  “You just said that things went wrong because Miss Briggs failed to follow procedures. Why defend her?” Gabriella asked stubbornly.

  “I’m not defending her. Freelance consultants have a certain degree of latitude. That’s why they’re freelance rather than full-time employees.” Damn. Now he was making excuses for Cady. “She’s new at the business. She’ll learn.” Probably the hard way, he thought, when she tries to hire that muscle.

  “What did you mean when you said that you didn’t exactly fire Miss Briggs?”

  “I decided to give her a second chance because she’s good at what she does. But she said that she wasn’t interested in doing any more consulting work for Lost and Found.”

  “You mean she got mad and quit?”

  “That’s pretty much how we left it.”

  “Why didn’t you say so? Guess that takes care of the problem, doesn’t it?” Gabriella was clearly relieved. “You won’t have to worry about her screwing up any more jobs in the future, will you?”

  “Apparently not. Mind telling me what you’ve got against Miss Briggs? You’ve never even met her.”

  Gabriella looked away, concentrating very hard on the tapestry. “I don’t think she’s good for you.”

  He did a double take. “What the heck is that supposed to mean?”

  “It’s hard to explain.” Gabriella flushed. “You get a sort of brooding note in your voice whenever you talk about her. It’s like she makes you depressed or something.”

  This was what came of sending young people to college, he told himself. He was not about to attempt to explain the difference between frustrated sexual desire and clinical depression to a nineteen-year-old. He wasn’t sure he understood the technical nuances involved, himself.

  “I’m not depressed.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.”

  “Maybe you should talk to Dr. Jenny, Dad.”

  The thought of talking to the grandmotherly therapist who had helped guide Gabriella and himself through the grieving process after Rachel’s death and later gave him advice on parenting a sensitive teen was daunting. He could just picture himself trying to explain the differences between sexual frustration and clinical depression to the good doctor.

  “I’m fine, Gabriella.” It was past time to change the subject. “The good news is that Dewey and Notch are in clover, thanks to Vandyke.”

  That comment successfully sidetracked her. She brightened. “Did he give them a ton of money for that old helmet?”

  “He did, indeed. Vandyke is very casual about money. I think he’s more interested in surfing and collecting old armor than he is in good bargains. With what he gave them, Dewey and Notch can pay off the loan on their business and expand their exhibits. They’re happy as clams.”

  Gabriella smiled. “Hey, that’s great. Bet Granddad was pleased when you told him that you had been able to help.”

  “I gave him a call last night. He was glad to know that Notch and Dewey are now set, financially speaking.” He moved on to the next exhibit, mentally bracing himself. “Since we’re on the subject of finances, there’s something I want to talk to you about.”

  “Don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind about getting me a car this year? I don’t have to wait until I’m a sophomore?”

  “No, I haven’t changed my mind about a car, honey. I’m going to sell the house.”

  That stopped her cold, just as he had feared it would. She whirled away from the tapestry to gaze at him with a shocked expression.

  “Are you serious?” she demanded.

  “I’m still in the planning stages,” he said gently. “I haven’t listed it yet. But, yes, I’m serious.”

  “Dad, you can’t mean it.” Her voice rose “You can’t do it.”

  “Gabriella, it’s too big for me now that I’m mostly there on my own. I don’t have time for such a large garden. You know that I’m doing more traveling these days. It would be convenient to live closer to a major airport. It’s a long drive in to San Francisco from Sebastopol.”

  “But what about when I come home at breaks and during summer vacation?”

  He smiled slightly. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure the new place has a second bedroom.”

  “That’s not the point.” Gabriella moved her hand in a troubled gesture. “You’ve got Mrs. Thompson coming in once a
week to clean the house. If you need a gardener, you can hire one. I realize that it’s a long trip to the San Francisco airport, but you can take a shuttle if you don’t feel like driving, can’t you?”

  He had known this would be difficult. “Honey, I realize that this is coming as a shock to you.”

  “It’s our house. We’ve always lived there.”

  “You’re an adult now. We both know that you won’t ever be coming back there to live permanently.”

  “Don’t count on it.” She made a face. “I hear that it’s real common for unemployed offspring to return to the nest to take advantage of free room and board until they find a job.”

  “No sweat. If you need to freeload for a while after college, we’ll work something out. I’ll have my lawyer draw up a contract for indentured servitude for you to sign. Nothing fancy. Shouldn’t be any problem.”

  Her mouth tightened. “This isn’t a joke. I can’t believe you’d actually sell our house.”

  “Like I said, I haven’t listed it yet.”

  “But you’re going to list it, aren’t you?”

  He hesitated. “Yes.”

  Her hand tightened around the strap of her purse. “This has something to do with what went wrong on the job you did for Dewey and Notch, doesn’t it?”

  It was his turn to be stunned. “No, nothing at all. I’ve been thinking about this for some time now.”

  “I don’t believe it.” She searched his face. “Dad, please don’t tell me that Cady Briggs is involved in this.”

  “Cady has nothing at all to do with it.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He shook his head, exasperated. “What makes you think Cady Briggs has got something to do with my decision to sell the house?”

  “I don’t know. All I know is that you never mentioned the idea until today.” She made a face. “Jeez, Dad, I can’t believe you’re acting like this because of a woman. Aren’t you a little old for that kind of thing?”

  “What kind of thing?” he asked neutrally.

  Her cheeks turned a bright pink. “You know what I mean.”

  “No, I don’t think I do.”

  “Stop teasing me, Dad. This is too important. This is our home you’re talking about.”

  The sheen of moisture he thought he saw in her eyes worried him. He draped an arm around her shoulders.

  “Take it easy, sweetheart. I’m not going to rush into anything. I’ll take my time. There are a lot of decisions to be made. Come on, let’s go get some lunch.”

  Later that afternoon he made the ninety-minute drive south with a very quiet Gabriella beside him. He deposited her safely at her dorm on the wooded campus of the University of California at Santa Cruz and got back into the car for the long trip home.

  It took him north again to San Francisco and across the Golden Gate Bridge, through the rolling hills of Marin County and beyond, into the green and gold of the Sonoma County landscape.

  He followed Highway 101 to the turnoff that led to the comfortable old house that, at some point during the past year, had become too big and too empty. He brought the car to a halt in the tree-lined drive and switched off the ignition.

  For a time he stayed where he was, hands resting on the steering wheel, and studied the home where he had watched his very smart, very lovely little girl grow up into a very smart, very lovely young woman.

  He was grateful to the old house. It had helped him raise Gabriella. It had sheltered them both after Rachel’s death, and it had provided stability and a sense of security for a motherless girl. But it had done its job and now it held only old memories. As hard as he tried, he could not see himself going on much longer inside those high-ceilinged rooms. The door to the past was waiting for him to close it.

  Gabriella had guessed right. Something had happened on the last job. He had partially opened another door and caught a tantalizing glimpse of his own future.

  Eleven

  It took him ten days of heavy-duty thinking, the sort of somber, serious contemplation that Gabriella would probably have mistaken for brooding—or, worse, depression—to concoct a plan.

  Granted, as plans went, it was pretty half-assed, he decided as he came to a halt in front of Cady’s front door. But he was stuck with it, primarily because he had been unable to come up with anything more promising.

  Cady opened the door after he’d leaned on the bell for nearly a full minute. She was barefoot. Her dark hair was pulled back into a strict knot that emphasized her interesting features. She was dressed in tights and a leotard, and she had a sexy, stretchy little skirtlike thing tied around her waist. All the clothing was stark black. He wondered if that was a bad omen.

  She stared at him for a few seconds with the expression of a woman who has just discovered an extraterrestrial on her front step.

  “I had to come down to Santa Barbara on business,” he said into the awkward silence. “Happened to be in the neighborhood. Had your address in my files. Thought I’d take a chance and see if you were home.”

  Thought I’d leap off this cliff because I had nothing better to do and I was going nuts trying to think of an excuse to see you again, he added silently.

  She blinked a couple of times, looking startled and somewhat confused. But not annoyed, he thought. That was a positive sign. He became aware of the music that was flowing down the hall behind her. Mozart.

  “You caught me by surprise,” she said. “I was just finishing my yoga exercises.”

  “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  “No, no, it’s okay,” she said quickly. “I just wasn’t expecting you to show up in person.”

  “Is there any other way to show up?”

  “I thought you’d call first to discuss the situation.” She sounded disgruntled now, maybe even flustered. “I take it the fact that you’re here means that you’re interested?”

  She had expected him to call? And here he’d been thinking that he would be lucky to get a foot in the door. His spirits rose. Obviously he had missed some significant signals somewhere along the line. Wouldn’t have been the first time.

  “I’m interested,” he said, feeling his way through the verbal minefield. “Definitely interested.”

  “Good.” Something that might have been relief flashed in her eyes. “I realize that I probably wasn’t very clear in the message that I left on your voice mail last night.”

  “Uh-huh.” He kept his voice noncommittal and made a mental note to call for his messages as soon as he got back to the hotel. He hadn’t checked them since yesterday afternoon. He’d been too busy obsessing on how to make this little drop-in scene appear casual and off the cuff.

  “I don’t blame you if you’re confused.”

  “I’ve been confused before,” he assured her. “You get used to it.”

  She gave him a slightly quizzical smile. “I would have called sooner but I was out of town and there was a lot going on.”

  “I’ve been a little out of touch, myself,” he said. “Didn’t know you’d been gone.” He suddenly recalled her plans to set herself up in competition to Lost and Found. His stomach clenched. “A consulting job?”

  “No, a funeral. My great-aunt died while I was helping you recover that armor for your friends.”

  “Great-aunt?” That got his full attention. “You mean Vesta Briggs? The head of Chatelaine’s?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m sorry.” He couldn’t believe he had missed the news. He made it a point to keep up with events in the art world. For the death of Vesta Briggs to have escaped his notice, he must have been more than just a little out of touch during the past ten days. He must have been in a complete fog. “I didn’t know.”

  “They think that she had an unusually bad panic episode while she was swimming alone. She may have assumed that it was a heart attack. The symptoms can be very similar. At any rate, the doctor told my cousins, Sylvia and Leandra, that in her extreme anxiety, Vesta probably grew exhausted and disoriented very quickly a
nd went under.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said again. He couldn’t think of anything else to say, under the circumstances. “Must have been a shock.”

  “Everyone told her that she shouldn’t swim alone, especially at night when she was the only one in the house. But my aunt was always very strong-willed.”

  He nodded. “The trait obviously runs in the family.”

  Cady’s jaw tightened briefly. Then she sighed. “I won’t argue with you on that point.” She stepped back. “I suppose you’d better come inside. I need to fill you in on the situation and I don’t want to do it here in the doorway. Would you like some iced tea?”

  He did not like cold tea any better than he liked hot tea, but he was nothing if not adaptable.

  “The tea sounds good,” he said as he moved through the front door into the hall.

  She led the way into an airy living room defined by stark white walls and minimalist furnishings.

  “Have a seat.” She motioned to a sleek black chair.

  The condominium was on the second floor. The sliding glass doors opened onto an expansive tiled balcony. He glanced out and down at the stylishly landscaped grounds. A small fountain gurgled amid a selection of lush plants arranged in an artful grouping. Expensive, tasteful and not unlike a lot of other upscale condo developments in the area.

  It was the interior of Cady’s home, with its sculptural spaces and contemporary décor that surprised him. He chose the black, Italian-modern chair positioned on a crimson area rug and watched Cady go behind a glass-block counter set with black and turquoise tiles. She opened the stainless-steel refrigerator and removed a pitcher. The tea inside was the color of amber.

  “This isn’t quite what I expected,” he said, watching her pour the tea into two glasses.

  She glanced up from her task. “What do you mean?”

  He moved a hand slightly to indicate her interior décor. “Given your professional expertise and your background, I expected to find you living with a lot of really good antiques.”

  “I spend a great deal of my working time with old pieces.” She picked up the glasses and carried them into the living area. “I find that the contemporary style at home suits me. It gives me a break that allows me to think in ways that I can’t when I’m immersed in the past.”