by Riona Kelly
With a twinge of guilt, Michelle realized the trek in the sand searching for her hadn’t done her aunt’s sprained ankle any good. But still thinking about the paintings, Michelle sprang from her seat. “Be right back,” she said and dashed to her bedroom.
Her phone was still plugged in, but it was almost fully charged. She snatched it loose and returned to the dining area as she pressed the symbol for the photo application. “I took photos of some of the paintings in the studio before we went out to dinner. I can show you the stolen ones.”
Colin had already unwrapped the paintings her aunt had bought and was studying them with interest. Like Lindy, he seemed to know a lot about art and was noting the brushstrokes and detailing as well as the style. “These are very good and show a real flair in his strokes, a unique hand in the execution. At the same time, they look familiar. Was he copying another artist’s work?”
“No. I thought the same thing, and I asked him,” Lindy replied. “He said this is his own style, although he has copied the greats in the past. Many art students take a stab at it in order to learn.”
Colin turned to Michelle and took the offered smartphone with its small screen to look at the photos she’d taken. He studied each of them a few moments before handing the phone to Lindy. Like Colin, she peered closely at each picture, increasing the size on them as she looked at the strokes.
“Yes, these strokes are like the ones on the paintings I bought. Definitely the same artist, and I would say his own style. But there is a sense of familiarity in the paintings, and I can’t place what it is. Maybe it’s the subject matter more than the detail.”
Lindy flipped the pictures back a few farther and pulled up one of the sketches of Michelle. She studied it, then called up another. She looked up at her niece. “He’s done a remarkable job with the sketches of you. Why was he doing them?”
Michelle dropped her gaze to the table for a heartbeat or two. Was her aunt censuring her images or just worried how Roberto might use them? She looked up and smiled a little, showing confidence. “I was modeling for him, so he has the form for future paintings. He won’t be using my face, but my body. More like the shape of my body, although he promised he would do a painting of me.”
“So, you were an artist’s model.” Lindy’s voice held a touch of amusement.
“I’ve done it before,” she answered. “Roberto also took some amazing photos of me, and I’m going to include a couple in my actor’s portfolio.”
“Ah, he’s also a photographer,” her aunt commented. “But then many artists like to work from a photo these days.”
Colin held up one of the paintings again, studying it as they talked. “Lindy, would you mind I took this painting with me? I’d like to show it to a friend who is an art expert and get his opinion.”
“Opinion of what?” Michelle asked, her eyebrows arching in a quizzical look with a downturn of her mouth. If he thought Roberto was copying another artist, she would be angry.
“Just the quality of the painting,” he assured her. “Like your aunt, I see familiarity in the work itself. Nothing to worry about, but perhaps his style is similar to another artist I’ve seen. Even so, this is a beautiful piece of art, and I’d like my friend’s appraisal.”
Lindy nodded her agreement. “Go ahead and take it. When will you be coming back?”
“Back?” Michelle’s gaze flicked from her aunt to Colin. He was leaving?
“I have to check a couple of locations in Italy, but it will only be a few days. I’ll catch up with you when I get back and return the painting then.”
Discussion over, Michelle cleaned up the dining table, then retreated to her bedroom so Colin and Lindy could have time together before he left the next morning. She liked Colin and was pleased to see the sparkle in her aunt’s eyes when she was with him.
She dropped onto the bed, opened her phone to a social media page, and caught up with her friends back home as well as the ones having a great time in Rome. She still wished she could have gone with them, but then she wouldn’t have met Roberto, and that made her very happy.
Heaving a wistful sigh, she hoped her aunt would relent and let her see Roberto before they left to go to the next city.
Chapter 12
As Lindy watched Michelle finish up the dishes, she reflected on her concerns of the past twenty-four hours and felt somewhat abashed she had thought the worst of her niece. Was she over-protective? Lindy had been in Europe on her own at about the same age as Michelle, and here the girl was saddled with her aunt, who was only a little younger than her father. She knew her brother’s worries about his daughter being alone over here were real. Europe’s countries did not offer the same safety as they did when she was young.
But much of it hadn’t changed. It was mostly the radicals she needed to worry about. One could not deny the troubles in the Middle East had extended past their borders, and any of the European countries were at risk. If it seemed Rome was a risky spot, was Spain, with its strong Arabic influence, any less? Many Muslims lived here, as well.
“A penny for them,” Colin said, his voice quiet, but curious.
She glanced at him as she realized she’d drifted off in her own thoughts and quite forgotten he was in the room.
“Just thinking about how much the world has changed since I was Michelle’s age. And it’s not all good.”
“That’s very true,” he said. “Everything seems to be at a faster pace these days. Danger is much closer than it used to be. Even for you.”
Her laugh came out a little brittle. “Indeed, it is. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been there in the market. I’ve never been attacked before.”
“As lovely as it is to hear your praise, the fact is you wouldn’t have been in trouble if I hadn’t talked you into coming along with me.”
As she saw the guilty look on his face, Lindy responded with a warm smile. “I loved being with you, Colin. You do know how to show a woman a unique time. I could have done without the sprained ankle, but to be honest, it was just a bit exciting to be robbed and almost abducted. It will be a great story I can tell at a convention or a party.”
“In that case,” he replied as he reached across and caught her hand, “I was happy to oblige.” He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it with a flourish.
Touched by the action, Lindy tried to recall the last time a man had made such a romantic gesture. Perhaps there had been one early in her career when she was at a convention, and a fan had reached out in playful affection, but it was not like this. The touch of his lips against her sensitive skin sent a thrill through her, reminding her of the burning connection between them.
She lifted her eyes to him with desire in them, and he pulled her to her feet. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her close and hummed a little bit of a waltz as he glided her around the room, ending at the sofa near the windows where he dipped her dramatically and planted a kiss in his best movie scene fashion. Lindy barely contained the snort of a laugh trying to escape, but a glance at his sincerely intense face took care of that moment, and she melted into his embrace as she raised her arms to circle his neck.
He lowered her to the sofa and slid down beside her, their lips still locked in an ever-deepening kiss. Her arms shifted to help support her body. As his fingers pressed tenderly against her cheeks, she brought her left hand to his shoulder and began easing it across to the front of his shirt where he’d left the first button undone.
She helped the next along, and the one after it until the last had slipped out of its assigned hole. Allowing her fingers to explore, they roamed over Colin’s chest in a slow, gentle crawl as they outlined the curves of his muscles and the dips between them.
At the same time, Colin’s mouth slid away from hers and began traveling south over her chin and down her throat in flutters of delicate kisses, making her stomach dip and quiver. She pulled in a deep intake of breath as she shivered internally. His mouth found her collarbone as h
e nipped his way across it, and his hand slipped down to slide under her silky tank top where he could caress the top of one breast.
Just as Colin’s other hand slipped under the straps, Lindy heard noises from Michelle’s room and the door opening. She swatted Colin’s hand away at the same time he starting straightening up. By the time Michelle stepped through the door, they were sitting side-by-side on the sofa, with their clothes mostly straightened, although Colin’s shirt was held closed by his left hand, and one of Lindy’s straps was still off her shoulder.
But Michelle didn’t even look their way, just slipped across into the bathroom.
“Maybe we shouldn’t do this here,” Lindy said in a soft voice.
“I was thinking the same thing,” he replied and ran his other hand through his hair. “I should get to bed anyway to get started early in the morning.”
“Me, too,” Lindy replied, feeling a ping of disappointment.
He rose to his feet and buttoned his shirt partway while Lindy straightened her top the rest of the way as she got up. While Michelle was still in the bathroom, she walked with him to the door and paused there.
“So, goodnight,” she said with a sad turn of her lips. “We can meet at the café in the hotel for breakfast if you have time?”
“I’ll make time,” he answered, pulling her into his arms for another kiss. “Say seven?” At her nod, he stepped through the door.
Wistfully, her eyes followed his retreating figure down the short hallway, past the elevator to the stairs, where he bounced down them with a youthful step. If her ankle hadn’t been so sore, she would have followed him right then. Instead, she turned in the doorway and shut the door behind her, a sigh of longing marking the moment.
Wearing dark green linen slacks and a breezy apricot-colored short-sleeved blouse, Lindy walked with Colin to his car, which was already loaded with his suitcase and the wrapped painting he was borrowing. He had her phone number as well as the phone number and address in Sevilla where she and Michelle would be heading next.
“If something comes up, and I can’t catch up with you in Sevilla, then I’ll ship the painting back there or on to your address in London if you prefer,” he said as he turned to her, taking her hands in his.
She nodded. “The London address would probably be better, but I do hope we meet up in Sevilla.” His work would take precedence, she reminded herself, but she was not ready to break this relationship, not when it was just starting, and there was so much promise. It’s a rare meeting that brings a stranger into your life who seems so exciting, charming, and wonderful, and it had been a long time since she’d felt so optimistic. No, she didn’t want to see it end. Not now and not like this.
“Me, too.” He smiled, and his eyes twinkled as he hugged her close. “I want to see you again soon, Lindy. So I will be in touch, and we’ll connect. I promise.”
“I’ll hold you to it,” she replied as he kissed her, one last sweet kiss, leaving her breathless, before he got in the car, waved, and drove off toward the airport in Malaga.
“So, he’s on his way,” Michelle said as she came up behind Lindy. She’d not come down for breakfast, but it appeared she had made it in time to see the farewell scene.
“He is.” She turned to face Michelle. The girl looked happier today, even though she probably still resented the restrictions she’d placed on her. With a sigh, she thought she would likely relent. Her niece hadn’t done anything too bad except worry her. She was young and having a good time with a handsome boy. Would she have done anything differently herself at the same age? To be honest, didn’t she run off on a whim with an enticing gentleman herself?
“Have you eaten yet?”
Michelle nodded, “I had some fruit. How’s the ankle?”
“Still a little sore, but much better.”
“You never told me what happened.” Michelle opened the door to the lobby for her.
“It’s a...” Lindy paused as she walked gingerly through the opening. “...complicated story. Let’s just say I tripped on the cobblestones in the Kasbah and twisted it.”
The younger woman winced in sympathy. “Those uneven surfaces will nail you every time.”
“True enough. It’s not the first time I’ve taken a tumble on uneven pavement, as they say in Britain. I once fell flat on my face in a stumble just outside the National Theater when I went to see ‘The Tempest’ in London. Got a black eye from it and attracted more attention than I wanted. One of the paparazzi got a photo of it. Great headline in the Daily News the next day, ‘Well-known American artist falls for the Bard.’”
“Oh, no!” Michelle laughed.
“ ’Fraid so. It’s the price of even a small amount of fame, my dear.” She tilted her head toward the coffee bar in the lobby. “Let’s grab a decent cup of coffee and decide what we’ll do today.”
Over a caramel cinnamon latte, Lindy asked Michelle to tell her again about the robbery and what was taken. As Michelle went over the details again, Lindy made a note or two in her tablet and frowned a little. “It just doesn’t make sense, Michelle. The paintings aren’t high value, and I doubt Roberto has anything in his place worth stealing. The most valuable item would have been the commission painting, and it’s only of value to the person who was buying it. Why would anyone take it? Although there’s still something niggling at me about his paintings, I can’t pin it down. What do you say we go talk to your young man this afternoon and see if we can get any more clues?”
Michelle’s face burst with a big grin. “Really? That would be awesome. He has a flash drive for me with the photos he took of me on it so I can get it and show them to you. The few I’ve seen are really beautiful. Wait until you see.”
Lindy laughed. “I’m sure they are.” All was forgiven, and everything was back to normal. Except for the puzzle of the stolen paintings.
After a relaxing morning by the pool and gazing out at the Mediterranean, Lindy and Michelle went into town and shopped a bit, ate a fresh garden salad at one of the outdoor cafes, then made their way to the street where Roberto’s stall sat at the curbside. To Lindy’s surprise, several people crowded into the small space to view the paintings as Roberto packaged up one of the smaller paintings into a neatly tied bundle for a plump middle-aged woman in beige cargo pedal pushers and a tied t-shirt top. A large raffia skimmer hat and sunglasses completed the American-abroad look.
When he looked up from his task, he saw Michelle, flashed a smile, and held up a finger to indicate to wait. Then he handed the package to the woman who grinned happily, thanked him, then turned to her husband, an equally plump, round-faced man, also wearing a hat against the hot afternoon sun. Together, they ambled off down the street with their souvenir of Spain.
They could do worse, Lindy thought. At least Roberto’s paintings were well-executed and might be worth something someday. But this number of people buying even surprised her. Following two more sales of pleasant-looking Spanish street scenes, the customers thinned and began moving down the street.
His last customer, a young woman clutching a larger canvas of a young male Spanish dancer, handed the painting to him and hurriedly dug in her purse for her money. She glanced down the street, anxiety evident in her eyes. Roberto counted out her change and put the painting in a bag, then started to wrap it, but she shook her head.
“No, it’s okay. The bag is good enough. I’ll pack it later.” She snatched the bag, then slinging her purse up over her shoulder, started on a quick walk, almost running after the other people.
“That was quite a group,” Lindy said as they stepped into the shade of the overhang of the booth.
Roberto put the last money away, then stood to hug Michelle. “Yes. They were from a tour group. A friend of mine is the guide and pointed them to me. She embellished my importance by telling them about the robbery. I guess if I am great enough to steal from, then they must buy one of my paintings.”
“You’re kidding,” Michelle gasped out. “They’re buyin
g because you were robbed.”
“So it would appear. I usually get a few who stop by and make one or two sales from the tourist groups, but today, there were a dozen buying. Maybe theft is good for my business.”
“Or maybe your friend is very good at PR,” Lindy said. She was studying a canvas of an old man dozing on a park bench with the setting sun breaking through the trees behind him. It was exquisite with the lightness of the shading, giving it an ethereal quality. The odd sense of familiarity touched her again like she had seen this kind of painting before. Picking it up, she handed it to Roberto. “I’d like to buy this one. It wasn’t here a few days ago, was it?”
“No, I just finished it last night. It’s old Manuelo, who used to work at the bank until he retired a few years ago. Now he siestas in the park until dark then goes out to party. It’s how he fights being lonely. These are his sunset years.”
“You captured it well. Michelle and I were talking about the robbery, and I was wondering if you had any idea why anyone would steal your paintings?”
A thoughtful frown wrinkled his forehead, but he shook his head. “It puzzles me, too. I am only a street artist, and you can see my paintings aren’t valued that highly. I get about five-hundred euros for the commission paintings when I get them, but they are large canvases and lots of paint, so they are worth a little more.”
“Tell me about the stolen one. Michelle showed me a photo she took of it.”
“It was a little less than a meter tall and half that in width, so a tall painting, done in oils, which take longer to dry. I was almost done and pushing the customer to wait until it dried before I delivered.”
“Was the size requested by the client?”
“Si. The size, subject, and dominant colors of the painting. I have done work for this client several times, and always, the request is very specific.”
Odd, Lindy thought, but then amended her perception since it wasn’t too unlike doing a book cover painting where the size, colors, and subject matter might be pre-determined by the publisher. Still, there was something peculiar about this whole deal. “Have you ever met this client?”