The Beach at Painter's Cove

by Shelley Noble

  Her time. She deserved it.

  “I’ve left you the paintings,” Adam said. “All but one and I’m taking that with us.”

  “The Full Moon Dance,” Issy said.

  “Yes. The rest are finished, they’re all signed. Sell the older ones first, say you found them in the attic. They should bring enough to do necessary renovations and get the museum up and running.”

  “But what about you? How will you manage?”

  “We knew this day would come, we’ve made provisions. The paintings are yours but we’ve moved them to a secure climate-controlled storage unit.” He reached in the pocket of his pants and handed her a locker key on a braided loop of leather.

  “If you’re leaving because the paintings will lead to your discovery, keep them, we’ll find a different way.”

  He and Fae smiled at each other.

  “She said you would have this reaction. We’re ready to go . . .” He glanced down at Fae. “More than ready.

  “And in view of her astute knowledge of her family—of you, to be exact—I took the liberty of sending the oldest painting to a friend of mine to put up for auction. He knows my story, he won’t give me away. He thinks it will fetch at least seven hundred K after his fees. You should be receiving a check within a few weeks.

  “I just ask that you leave the newer ones hidden as long as you can. Someone is bound to figure out that some of them were painted after I was dead. And after they go through the series of tests to prove them forgeries, they’ll realize Adam Ellis the painter lives on.

  “So it’s a good thing that I finished them and fled before you ever came back or you might have found me out.” He smiled, as if he had no cares in the world, and maybe he’d just jettisoned his final earthly burden.

  He reached in his shirt pocket and pulled out an envelope. “Put this in your safety deposit box. If it ever comes to it, this states that I gave the Whitakers these paintings in thanks for their unwavering support.”

  Issy took the envelope and Adam wrapped his long arms around both Fae and her in an embrace Issy knew was good-bye. And she held them both as another piece of her life’s tapestry was ripped from her. But this sacrifice she was willing to make, not for the money the paintings would bring, she had no intention of selling any more than necessary. The Muses would have an entire room dedicated to Adam Ellis, who inspired an entire Coastal School generation and who loved her aunt.

  Issy left after that, carrying a rattan case meant for Stephanie. Fae didn’t walk her back, and when Issy asked her what she was supposed to tell Stephanie, Fae said, “Nothing, You and Stephanie really are special. She’ll understand.”

  Issy was teary-eyed as she made her way along the path, the meadow grasses, and the cornflowers, a hazy mist of blue and green.

  She thought about never seeing her aunt again. Or Adam now that she’d been introduced to him again. But she understood, and hopefully Steph would, too.

  When she came out of the woods onto the lawn, she saw Steph standing on the knoll looking across the cove. She already knew. Either Fae had prepared her or she had been expecting just this outcome.

  Issy came to stand beside her. They didn’t speak, just looked across the blue, blue water to Fae’s faerie cottage. The bright yellow paint already looked as if it were beginning to fade, the cottage wavering in the sunlight, wavering and bleeding into the air like one of Fae’s chalk paintings on the village sidewalks. Soon there would be nothing left but memories.

  Would it be enough? Would they someday be reunited? Could you be arrested for impersonating yourself?

  And what about Steph? Fae had taken on a sullen, jaded almost-teenager and helped her to blossom. And now, in great Whitaker fashion, she was leaving her, and Issy’s heart ached for the child who was about to learn she’d been deserted, not just left behind while her mother looked for stolen money, not left by a mother who had no time or interest in raising two young daughters. But deserted forever maybe, by someone she trusted and someone she loved. And suddenly all the old hurt and sadness and yes, anger, bubbled up inside Issy, not for herself but for her niece.

  As they watched, two people came out the front door of the cottage, hesitated on the porch, and Issy thought maybe they were saying good-bye. Then they walked around the house and a minute later the van drove away and out of sight.

  Issy cleared her throat and hoped words would come. “You know what’s happening?”

  “She’s going away with her Elf King.”

  “Do you know who the Elf King is?”

  “I think so. He painted that painting in the library. He was in the photograph.”

  “Yes.”

  “Aunt Issy, we must never mention this.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because she needs to be free. They both need to be free.”

  “Did Aunt Fae tell you that?”

  “She didn’t have to. I just knew.”

  Issy handed her the little flat box. “She left you this.”

  Steph took the box and hugged it to her chest, not surprised or curious. “I’ll miss her.”

  “I will, too. What do you think we should tell the others?”

  “The truth, Aunt Issy. She went away with the Elf King.”

  “They’ll all think we’re crazy, except maybe Grammy.”

  “Of course they will. We’re Whitakers.”

  Issy didn’t stop when they returned to the house but went straight to the music room and closed the pocket doors. She knew no one would disturb her and she wanted to work and think and make some decisions.

  When she came out two hours later she found everyone but Mandy, Griff and Steph seated around the kitchen table. The table was covered in food, wine and beer bottles, and notebooks.

  “For a house that has fifteen bedrooms, a conservatory, two parlors, and all sorts of miscellaneous rooms, we sure do sit around the kitchen a lot.”

  “Come in,” Chloe said. “We gave up waiting for you, but there’s plenty left.”

  But Issy just stood in the doorway and looked them over. Her best friend from school, who had stepped up to help without even needing to be asked. Ben, who had always been more than a big brother and was now what Issy was beginning to think could be an indispensable part of her life. Paolo, one of a kind, the best assistant a designer could hope to have, a good designer in his own right, and a good friend. Grammy, who deserved to be happy in her own home for as long as she wanted, and Vivienne. They were sisters, for better or worse . . . could they ever be friends? Maybe, maybe not. But they were both part of the family and Issy was determined to start over again.

  Chloe poured out a glass of wine. Ben moved his chair over and dragged an extra chair to the empty place beside him. Issy sat down and took the wine.

  “We’ve been talking while you were gone,” Paolo said. “I at least have come to a decision and I think I should tell you before we go any further. I’ve decided to stay here, see how Chloe and I get on. I’m perfectly willing to watch out for the Muses and Leo, if we can figure out a way to keep them here.”

  “No more museum work?” Issy asked, trying to hide her smile. She’d seen this coming since day one and she was so happy for them.

  “If I can get some pickup work, unless of course you can come up with a way to make the Muses open to the public, I’ll be the first one to turn in my résumé.”

  “Well, if you’re sure . . .”

  He looked at Chloe and that answered Issy’s questions. “In that case, I think I’ve found a way to keep it going for a while longer. Maybe even implement some of the plans we’ve been throwing around.”

  “How?”

  “An anonymous donor,” Issy said.

  “Is that what you were doing all afternoon in the music room?” Chloe asked.

  “Partially.”

  Issy raised her voice. “And yes, Steph, that means we’re going to open a museum.”

  The door to the housekeeper’s quarters opened a few inches and Steph
stuck her head out. “That’s great. Can I come in?”

  Vivienne started to say something, but Issy beat her to it. “Come in, Steph, you’re part of this family.”

  “What about your job at the Cluny?” Paolo asked.

  “That’s the other part of what I was doing this afternoon. I talked to Dell. Told him our plan. After the initial dead silence, and then after he stopped yelling, he decided it might be a good idea. It would be a satellite of the Cluny, Whitaker owned and operated under the Muses complete control. A sister museum, if you will. Under one condition.” She looked at Paolo.

  “What condition?”

  “That you would agree to curate the Muses collection, Paolo, in order to give me the freedom to freelance for the Cluny as well as administer the museum here. If that’s okay with you, Grammy.”

  “I think it sounds like an excellent idea, but we won’t have to leave, will we?”

  “Absolutely not,” Issy said.

  “Oh, good, and, Ben, perhaps you could drop by every now and then.”

  “An honor and a pleasure,” Ben said. “But, Issy, will you be living here or in Manhattan?”

  “I’ve thought a lot about it and now I’ve stopped thinking. I’m staying here to run the Muses by the Sea Museum of American Art. But I’ll still work for the Cluny on special projects.

  “Which means, Paolo, that we’ll sometimes be doing double duty.”

  “Nothing we haven’t done before, cara. The best of all possible worlds.”

  “In that case,” Chloe said, “and if it’s okay with you, Leo, I was thinking the little sun porch would make an excellent tearoom for visitors, close to the kitchen, cozy but lots of light. It will be perfect.”

  “What happened to culinary school?” asked Issy, only half teasingly. Everything was suddenly moving way too fast.

  “This sounds a lot more exciting.”

  “Yes,” Paolo agreed. “And the conservatory for weddings and debutante balls. I can see it now.”

  Everyone laughed, except Ben, who leaned over and said, “Can we talk for a minute?”

  “Sure.”

  “Outside?”

  Issy stood up. “Excuse us for a minute.”

  They walked away from the house, out toward the sea, then he stopped her. “Are you sure you’re doing this for the right reasons? Do you know how hard it will be to make any money from the few visitors you’ll get?”

  “I won’t be counting on just admission income, but grants and that other resource I told you about.”

  “So they’re legitimate?”

  She nodded.

  “Wow. And they really will bankroll the whole museum and house and everything? But is it what you want for yourself, not because you think you should do it but because this is what’s best for you?”

  She frowned at him. “What are you getting at?”

  “I’d be glad if you stayed. Really glad. But not if you’re going to regret your decision when it’s too late to go back. I want you to stay for the right reasons.”

  “Let me see, now. What would those be? My family, the art, the history, and . . . Wait. I’m sure there was something else . . . Oh yes, Chloe and the beach and—”

  “Okay, cut it out. I get the point. So do you think there might be room in your entourage for a levelheaded, sometimes marshy-smelling marine ecologist?”

  “Actually, I just might have an opening. Let me check the job description. Hmm. Must have cowlick.”

  “That works for me.” He took her shoulders and kissed her.

  “And that works for me,” Issy said when they finally pulled away.

  “Good. Let’s go back in before they—or we—get completely carried away.”

  He slung his arm over her shoulders, a gesture of a hundred memories, a gesture of home and security and the next adventure.

  Sometime later

  New Adam Ellis Brings 1 Million at Auction

  A recently discovered oil on canvas by Adam Ellis, one of the most noted of the late-twentieth-century Coastal-style painters, was auctioned off by Sotheby’s for one million US dollars.

  The painting, titled The Muses at Sunset, portrays the shoreline at Muses by the Sea, the neo-Gothic mansion of the Whitaker family, fondly called the Muses and a place popular with many of the painters and other artists of the day.

  Found in the attic of an anonymous owner, it was appraised at $700,000. But the mystery and tragic death surrounding the troubled genius and rumors that possibly there are more of his paintings as yet undiscovered led to a bidding frenzy.

  Mr. Ellis drove his car off the bridge into the Connecticut River on August 5, 2007. His body was never recovered, which police chief Roland North said was a common outcome of drowning victims at that location due to the strong currents and proximity to the open sea.

  Jillian York, a bottle of water in one hand, her cell in the other, checked her makeup in her dressing trailer mirror. “Yes, Harry, just make it out to Muses by the Sea Museum of American Art. We’ll put your name on a plaque. Divine. Gotta run, I’m wanted on set. We’ll do lunch soon. Ciao.”

  Steph ran through the door of their new apartment in Painter’s Cove and followed the smell of fresh-baked cookies to the kitchen. “Mom, I’m home. I told Chloe I would come out and help her and Paolo set up the sun porch for the historical society dinner tonight. I’ll take my bike.”

  Vivienne placed a hot cookie sheet on the stove and turned to hug her daughter. “Fine. You can take this tin of cookies to Chloe.”

  Steph took the tin, snagged two cooling cookies for herself. “I’ll be home in time for homework. See ya.”

  “I’m not sure I’m cut out for this,” Issy said as she tried to follow in Ben’s footsteps through the sucking mud.

  “Sure you are. Even the palest museum curator needs to get out in the fresh air every now and then. Here, hold this.” He shoved a metal rod and an instrument box at her, and while she had both hands full, he pulled her close.

  “Dr. Collins!” she said, laughing.

  “The plankton won’t mind.” And he kissed her.

  To: George Whitaker

  From: Felix Pretto

  Re: The matter in question

  George:

  As you requested, the local bank here in Panama has frozen the particular funds under discussion. The subject is en route to Grand Cayman, where additional funds are still available. He will be taken into custody on arrival and the Cayman authorities will await your decision about prosecution. Your contact there is . . .

  Leo lifted her face to the setting sun. “You wouldn’t believe it, Wes. We have so many people coming through the museum, I must lead five or six tours a day. It’s so invigorating. It’s almost like the parties we used to have.”

  Fae stood on the porch of their new cottage. The ocean stretched as far as they could see. She leaned into Adam. “Happy?”

  “Very. You?”

  “Oh yes.” They were standing at the end of the world and the beginning of a new life.

  Acknowledgments

  As always thanks to my agent, Kevan Lyon, and my editor, Tessa Woodward, as well as Nicole Fischer, Elle Keck, and my always supportive William Morrow team.

  To my Beach Book Buddies, who are always ready to jump in to help navigate the growing pains of a story as it develops from idea to novel.

  People always ask where writers get their ideas. Sometimes we have specific incidents in our lives, sometimes it begins with a vague feeling that takes shape as we work. For The Beach at Painter’s Cove it was a photo I saw on Facebook posted by a friend from my Manhattan days. That life came flooding back and there it was, the beginning of my story about the Whitaker family and their love of art. To those friends from a former life, my deepest thanks and appreciation.

  Book Club Questions

  1. When Issy answers the phone call from her niece, she drops everything to drive to Connecticut even though she’s pretty much estranged from her family. Yet when she arrives, she takes
charge even while juggling her professional and family life. Why do you think she feels compelled to do that? Is it from love or from duty? Why is she ambivalent about her place in the family?

  2. A statement in the book says that generations of Whitakers had nurtured artists but drained the life out of each other. Do you think that was true at least with the last four generations that are portrayed in the novel? And how did it happen? Do you think that it’s a problem that any philanthropic family encounters, caring more for the greater good than for each other?

  3. In Chapter 12 Fae says Leo and Wes’s love consumed them and singed those around them. What did she mean? How was the family, especially their children, affected? Was their love a good thing or a bad thing or is love something you can judge? Is it possible to love too much?

  4. Leo and Wes’s children—Max, George, and Jillian—all grew up at the Muses, and all chose very different paths in life. How were their feelings for each other, their parents, and their life choices shaped by living at the Muses surrounded by artists, nature, and the family history?

  5. Jillian left Issy and Vivienne to be raised by their grandparents. How much of her decision was selfish and how much a genuine concern for their well-being away from the snares of Hollywood? Do you think she could have been happy and a good mother if she’d given up her career? Do you think her feelings about family changed during the story or was it the others’ perceptions of her that changed?

  6. Fae has been living a secret life for years. Do you think she and Adam did the right thing to live as they did? Do you think they will find continued happiness? If you had a chance to live a totally different life, do you think you would take it?

  7. Vivienne’s bitterness at being left at the Muses as a child colored her whole life, overflowing into resentment of her sister and aunt. How did those feelings affect her as well as the rest of the members of her family? Can the feelings of one person change the dynamics of a whole family? Will she be able to overcome those feelings?