Picture Perfect (River's End Ranch Book 45)

by Cindy Caldwell

  “Thank you,” he said as he started to wander the gallery, his hands behind his back. He stopped at several of Tony’s paintings of the majestic landscape surrounding River’s End Ranch and even whistled at one.

  Opal peeked in the back as her dad was rolling the oversized photographs and placing them in a cardboard tube. “You all set?” she asked.

  “Just another second while I write out the pricing sheet.”

  Opal turned back into the gallery and her stomach jumped when Bernard stood in front of one of her earliest efforts—a dramatic, black and white photograph of the entire River’s End Ranch valley, just at dawn.

  “Wow,” he whispered as he stepped closer and squinted. “This is really something else.”

  “It is, isn’t it?” her father said as he rounded the corner, the tube of photographs under his arm. “She’s quite a photographer.”

  Bernard squinted and looked down at the lower right-hand corner of the photographs. “It’s not signed.”

  “No, it’s not. I can’t get her to, no matter how much I try,” Allen said as he glanced out of the corner of his eye at Opal.

  The heat in her cheeks bloomed outright now as she glared at her dad. She’d wanted to just be anonymous, and had purposefully decided not to sign the photographs. They weren’t very good, anyway, and she had hung them in the gallery just to humor her father. Well, and Mira and Tony who’d asked her to also.

  Bernard stopped in his tracks as he walked back to the counter. He looked from Allen to Opal. “You?”

  “Yes, her,” Allen said with a wide smile. “Aren’t they awesome?”

  “They sure are,” he said slowly as his eyes met Opal’s.

  She reached for the tube in her father’s hand and held it out to Bernard, hoping to change the conversation. She looked at the price sheet her father handed her.

  “Here you go. Twenty over-sized prints will be—”

  He handed her a credit card and said, “You really should sign them. They’re spectacular. You have a unique way of capturing light and shadow. Like Ansel Adams.”

  He rested the tube of photographs under his arm and shoved his hands in his pockets.

  “She really does, doesn’t she?” Allen said, the proud father in him now on full throttle. “She can take pictures of anything. Look, this is a picture of my daughter’s wedding—Olivia, you met her—that Opal took. The pictures were all great.”

  He shoved a framed photograph at Bernard and he smiled and nodded, politely looking at the pictures of her sister’s wedding. Her father went on to show him several more, and he politely nodded at each one. When her father handed him the last, he reached for it and cocked his head as well as the angle of the photograph and looked at it a bit longer. He smiled at Opal and handed the picture back to her father.

  “Very lovely. Great composition,” he said finally with a glance at Opal, and she knew he was just humoring her father.

  Olivia hoped the floor would open up and swallow her as she slid Bernard’s credit card through the machine. As she waited for it to clear, she read the bottom of the card—he was with the production company that was filming the TV show, it looked like.

  There hadn’t been a formal announcement from the Westons, but news traveled pretty fast. None of the staff knew any details, but they did know that there was something exciting coming—and apparently Bernard was part of it. Part of her wanted to ask, but the bigger part of her knew she shouldn’t. When Wade wanted everybody to know, he’d tell them. So far, everybody had tried to keep the gossip at a minimum. They’d find out when the time was right.

  As her father babbled to Bernard in the corner of the gallery—apparently showing him every one of her prints—the phone rang, and Opal looked at the clock. It was noon, and she’d forgotten to call Kelsi with their lunch order.

  “Hi, Kelsi,” she said as she picked up the gallery’s phone.

  “Hi, Opal. You guys want your usual lunch order?”

  “I’m sorry I forgot to call, and yes. One of us will be there to pick it up in a little bit. Thanks for remembering.”

  “No problem,” Kelsi said. “I needed to take a sit-down break anyway. My feet are screaming at me.”

  “Aw, I’m sorry. But thank you. See you in a bit.”

  Opal hung up the phone and said, “All set here, Bernard.” The sooner she interrupted his conversation with her dad, the better. She knew from experience that he could go on for hours if she didn’t step in, and that was when the conversation wasn’t about her or Olivia. When it was, it could be brutally long.

  “Thanks,” Bernard said as he crossed over to the counter and signed the credit card receipt. As he bent down, Opal noticed that his wavy hair just crossed the collar of his plaid jacket, and when he stood and smiled, she was struck once again by the color of his eyes—like fall leaves turning, or new leaves in spring.

  “I couldn’t help but notice you’re with the production company,” she said, feeling like she was prying a little. It wasn’t her way to be nosy. If people wanted to talk about it, fine—but she wasn’t nearly as chatty as her father.

  “Oh, really?” her father asked as he crossed back behind the counter. “That sounds like fun. We’re hearing talk of a TV show here but nobody really knows for sure.”

  “Oh, no? My understanding is that it’s a done deal. At least I’m presuming it is, and I’ve signed a contract to film the pilot. There was no clause about keeping it confidential.”

  Opal wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly. “You? Filming the pilot?” She couldn’t imagine what a job like that would be like, to be paid to take pictures—well, movies. She was fascinated, and realized that her mouth had fallen open.

  He held his hat in his hand and looked down at his boots.

  “Yes, me,” he said with a laugh—one that was sincere and humble.

  “Wow, that sounds pretty exciting. Doesn’t it, Opal?” Allen said as he nudged Opal with his elbow.

  “Yes, very,” she said slowly, unable to imagine how exciting it would be but at the same time, knowing it would be an awesome job.

  “We start filming in a few weeks. They’re just getting ready to start casting. The actors will be here in a couple of weeks. I’ve spent my time getting ready, planning and blocking shots and angles.”

  “That sounds like it would be fascinating, doesn’t it, Opal?” her father said and Opal wished again for a tsunami or earthquake...anything to change the conversation that seemed to be—from her father’s standpoint, anyway—centered on her rather than on the TV show.

  “Yes, absolutely,” she said. “Dad, Kelsi called and lunch is ready.”

  “Oh. I have a few more prints to make. Would you mind picking it up?” Allen asked as he glanced in the back room. He handed her a twenty-dollar bill, and she usually argued, but today, she’d let him pay for all the blushing he’d caused her.

  “Okay, I’ll be right back,” she said as she shrugged on her coat and gloves, and without thinking grabbed her camera.

  “Thanks for getting your prints made here, Bernard,” her dad said as he turned toward the back. “Very nice to meet you.”

  “You’re welcome, sir. My pleasure. And it was very nice to meet you, as well,” Bernard said as he waved at her dad and held the door open for her.

  She smiled up at him as they stepped outside, and couldn’t wait to walk away as fast as she could and forget about the parental humiliation she’d just lived through.

  Chapter 6

  Bernard closed the door to the gallery, and pulled on his gloves. His stomach growled—it had been a long time since breakfast for him—and he smiled as Opal turned her head, her black, shiny ponytail shining in the crisp noon sunlight.

  Her emerald green eyes sparkled as she laughed and said, “You must be hungry.”

  “Ah, a sleuth,” Bernard said with a laugh. “What tipped you off?”

  He pulled the strap of his camera further up his shoulder and noticed that she had the very same one
. They were expensive and elaborate, and he imagined that she was very serious about her photography if she had one of that caliber.

  “Mind if I head over to the cafe with you? I had breakfast there, but the cupboard’s bare at home. No more croissants,” he said.

  She hesitated for a moment, and he thought maybe he shouldn’t have asked.

  Pulling her camera strap further up her own shoulder, she said, “Of course. I promise not to talk anymore about myself. I think my father did enough of that for both of us. I’m sorry.”

  She seemed sincere, her smile broad, so he took her at her word and fell in step beside her as they headed toward the cafe.

  She’d seemed pretty embarrassed in the gallery when her father had done his fatherly job of bragging about her. He might have been embarrassed, too, if his father had done that but he’d never in his life had that experience. He thought it was kind of sweet, actually.

  “Do you take that everywhere you go?” he asked, pointing toward her camera.

  She laughed and tugged the camera strap further up her shoulder.

  “Yeah, I guess I do. Never know when you’re going to need it. And honestly, I sometimes think I can see better though the viewfinder than I can with my own eyes.”

  Bernard knew exactly what she meant and said so.

  “Funny, I feel the same way. I don’t do humans all that well, but through the lens, I seem to be able to make sense of them.”

  He kicked himself—part of not “doing humans” all that well was not divulging what you were really thinking. He’d learned that the hard way growing up, and he’d best remember it now. Even though her father had been warm and friendly, and she seemed charming, you never really knew what you were getting. That had been his experience, anyway.

  As they crunched through the snow on the way to the cafe, he shook his head at what kind of morning he’d had. He’d been at River’s End Ranch for a few weeks, and the only person he’d talked to, really, was Steven, the director, and his roommate, Brandon. He knew Kelsi a little bit, but he’d mostly gotten takeout from either the cafe or the restaurant and brought it home. And continued working.

  Nothing really interesting had happened in between the remaining meals of leftover Chinese food except for what he saw in his camera’s viewfinder and suddenly, he found himself meeting all these new people. And interesting ones, at that.

  But what he really wanted to do was to get something to eat and head back to his cabin as the rolled up photos in the cardboard tube were calling to him.

  “Oh, hi, guys,” Kelsi said as they entered the cafe, and he was greeted with the same warm smile he’d received earlier. “Opal, your lunch isn’t quite ready yet. Have a seat anywhere that’s open, and Bernard, I’ll get your order in a second.

  They stood back to let her pass as her hands were full with two very large plates of what looked like chicken fried steak to him. She set both plates down in front of one man and said, “There you go, Noah. Let me know if you need a third.”

  He shook his head, not imagining how any human could eat that much, but the man dug in heartily. His French upbringing of fine food but small portions tingled through him as they passed the booth and took one of their own further into the cafe. To each his own.

  “Bob’s special today is chicken fried steak, and it’s to die for,” Kelsi said as she reached their table, her notepad out and pencil ready. “Opal, you want something to drink while you wait?”

  “I think I’ll have some hot chocolate,” she said as she sniffed the air. “Smells delicious. And whipped cream, too, please.”

  “It’s the best. What can I get for you, Bernard? Soup?”

  “Yes, please. Soup and your strongest cheese and best bread.”

  “It’s not a French restaurant, but as usual, I’ll see what Bob has to give you. You’re missing out on the chicken fried steak, though,” she said with a smile as she slipped her notepad into the pocket of her apron.

  “Thanks,” Bernard said. He turned back to Opal, who was staring at him, her head cocked.

  “Is that what people eat in France?”

  He closed his eyes as his phone rang in his pocket, the ring tone familiar. His mother would not be pleased if she knew he’d chosen the theme from Jaws to let him know she was trying to get in touch. He reached in his pocket and quickly clicked the red decline button.

  He ran his hand through his hair. “I’m not sure about all of France, but that’s what I ate when I stayed with my grandparents during the summers when I was growing up. Makes me feel like I’m there, so I order it when I can. Kelsi’s been really nice about it.”

  “I think it’s Bob you want to be really nice about it,” Opal said with a laugh. “But that’s great.”

  “It is when I don’t have time to shop or cook. I’ve been kind of busy lately,” he said and his gaze traveled to the tube of photographs.

  “Oh? With more than the TV show?” Opal asked as she followed his gaze to the tube.

  “Yes.” He cocked his head and looked at her. She’d flat out said that she saw more through the viewfinder of her camera. Maybe she could see something he couldn’t—he’d been looking hard enough and hadn’t found anything himself. He glanced at her camera, and hesitated for only a second before deciding that she was trustworthy and might be able to help.

  “Would you like to see?” he asked quietly, hoping that she was interested.

  “Of course!” she said, leaning forward on her elbows. Her eyes gleamed and she scooted her camera over on the bench, moving her plate and silverware out of the way.

  He took in a deep breath. Hopefully, she wouldn’t think he was crazy, and run out of the restaurant to get as far away from him as possible. Actually, he didn’t need to tell her exactly what he was looking for. Just show her the pictures and find out what she saw herself. It would probably be safer that way. He hadn’t had much luck with human relationships before, and there was little reason to think that would change now.

  He reached for the tube and gently pulled out the pictures. He laid them flat on the table and squinted as he looked at the area of the photograph he’d been eager to see. He pointed to the copse where he’d seen movement in the background of what he’d been shooting that day, and his adrenaline started to pump. Maybe there was something there.

  “I’d been shooting from up behind Old Town for a few days, blocking shots and trying to find my best angles for opening and wide-lens scenes for the TV show. Sometimes I’d look through the viewfinder and while I was concentrating on something in the foreground, something in the background moved. There were no people around, and I even waited for maybe some trail horses or snowmobiles or something to come out. Nothing, though, and in the photographs I couldn’t see anything.”

  He looked up and realized that the photographs were upside down for Opal. In his excitement, he turned them around and stood, coming around to the other side of the booth and sliding in next to her.

  “See, right here, in this area. And it happened several days in a row, many, but I was never able to see anything in the photographs.”

  Opal leaned forward and focused on the area he’d circled with a pencil. “Here? Behind these trees?”

  “Yes, yes, that’s it. Can you make anything out?”

  “It’s Bigfoot, I’m telling you,” Kelsi said as she set down Opal’s hot chocolate and Bernard’s soup. “Just like I told you this morning, Opal. Show him what you have. Somebody’s gotta find that thing.”

  Chapter 7

  Opal had been a little surprised when Bernard scooted in beside her in the booth, but it was clear he was excited about his photographs. His arm brushed hers as he gestured across the table.

  She looked over at him and frowned. She’d only known him for a minute, it seemed, but he hadn’t impressed her as a conspiracy theorist.

  “Bigfoot?” Opal said as her eyebrows rose. She remembered the conversation with Kelsi from earlier that morning, but she’d dismissed it already. Bigfoot was
a myth and wasn’t even what she was looking for. She wanted to know what was in that copse but was positive it wasn’t Bigfoot.

  He looked over at Kelsi behind the counter and then back at the photographs. “No, not Bigfoot,” he whispered, “but I didn’t want to tell her that. I’m thinking it’s maybe an animal of some kind, but not Bigfoot.”

  “Good idea,” she said as he pointed to the spot where he’d seen movement. She squinted at it and couldn’t really see anything either—but suddenly she recognized it as the copse that she’d been studying for the past week. At least she thought it was. These photographs had been taken from a different angle and elevation, and at a different time of day, but she thought it was the same place.

  “Oh, my gosh. Let me show you something.”

  She grabbed her camera and flicked it on. As the display lit up with the most recent picture, she leaned it against the table, and they both leaned forward as she flipped through the pictures until she got to the one she thought most looked like his photographs.

  “Look at this. Do you think it’s the same glen? I’ve been out in the early morning lots in the past couple of weeks, and I’ve seen something moving in there, too. When I take pictures, though, there’s nothing.”

  Bernard leaned forward and some of his sandy blond hair fell forward as he concentrated on the pictures. He reached for the camera but stopped himself and looked at her.

  “May I?” he asked.

  She nodded at his courtesy. For photographers, cameras were very personal, and she admired his respect for that.

  He smiled and picked up the camera with an expert hand but a delicate touch, flipping her pictures back and forth a few times and looking up at his photographs.

  “I really think it is. It’s the same spot,” he said, the excitement in his voice impossible to miss. “And you’ve seen something there, too?”

  She’d leaned over the camera, too, still trying to catch something—anything—she’d missed in the pictures.