“We did.”
“Well, then, what’s she doing here? Are you babysitting?”
“I had no idea she was going to show up. I saw Tack sneaking down the driveway when I arrived at the door. He knows how much I love that child, and he’s using her to get to me.”
“How did he know you’d even be here?” asked Natalie.
“Your boyfriend told him. Apparently, he and Aidan Ames are best friends.”
“Sorry, I didn’t realize that,” Natalie apologized. “Men and their secrets.”
“No problem. She is the cutest thing. I don’t mind her being here. In fact, I’m going to take her shopping for some new clothes later this afternoon. Her mother is dead, and Tack apparently has no taste and no money. He lives with his mother.”
“Wow!” Victoria’s face registered the correct amount of surprise.
“He can barely make ends meet,” Abby added. “I feel sorry for him, but he’s still a bastard.”
“Come on, while Jane has her occupied, let’s try to get as much done as we can,” Victoria advised. “I have everything laid out in the study.”
In a few steps down the hall, Abby and Victoria were there.
“Where’s the Portrait of Venus?” asked Abby, alarmed when she didn’t see the painting on the easel.
“Oh, I let Joshua borrow it. He and your lawyer, Brandon Fairbanks, are going over the contracts right now.”
“Okay, but I don’t even have it insured yet. If the provenance is as impeccable as I think it is, that painting is worth millions, it may even be priceless, and I didn’t even realize it. Imagine, discovering a lost Botticelli. It has to be protected.”
“I totally trust Joshua.”
“Of course you do. Is that your head talking, or your heart, or something in a lower region?”
Victoria blushed. “Abby!”
“Look, I totally understand lust. I got carried away last night too. There are too many hormones circulating around this house. And I think we’re all choking on them. Okay, hormones aside, what are we going to do to avoid losing out, with all this work you’ve done publicizing Portrait of Venus? After the opening, we won’t even have the painting in our possession. Maybe we should start over again, and I could substitute one of the Old Masters in the Longleys’ private collection as our signature piece. What do you think?”
“But the Portrait of Venus is critical to our gallery,” Victoria reminded. “It encapsulates our brand, not to mention that the model could be your twin sister.”
“I know. I was so taken by that piece, and I bought it specifically to display at the entrance to the gallery. It will attract so much attention.”
“I’m not worried,” Victoria said. “I have a plan in mind, so let’s move on to other things. I still have some bugs to work out on the Web site, but it will definitely be up and running by the opening. Clients will be able to browse our site, and it will be easy for them to make a purchase. Getting pictures of all the artwork framed and loaded onto the site before the opening is going to be tough. I also want visitors to be able to get a panoramic view of the gallery from the Web site. I have all the press releases ready for your approval. And here’s the VIP guest list and the media list. The furniture and statuary will be delivered first thing in the morning. We’re going to spend tomorrow moving in the furniture and the next few days hanging the artwork. Aidan is going to be directing us. Then the photographer is due to come in for the photo shoot.”
Abby studied all the material Victoria showed her, then reviewed and signed off on the guest lists and the press releases.
“I know I told you to invite Tack, Isabella, and Tack’s mother, but please remove them from the list.”
“I’ll do that.”
“Victoria, this is an amazing amount of work you’ve put into this. Without you, we could never have launched this gallery properly. I know we have bugs to work out, but we’re getting close, really close. I’m so proud of all of us.”
“Jane has been working extraordinarily hard. She’s painted some spectacular pieces.”
“She’s so secretive. She won’t allow me up in the studio, so I haven’t seen anything.”
“Well, prepare to be dazzled. She is as talented as any of the Impressionists. Not only is she an original, but you’ve seen her reproductions. They are just as amazing. Perfect for people who want to own a little piece of history. And Ethan Logan’s paintings of Southern scenes are breathtaking. I think those two inspire each other. Ethan is a great framer, too. He has a good eye, so he’ll be very helpful.”
“I have seen his work, and I think people are going to love it. I’m going to intersperse some of my in-laws’ artwork just for decoration. They won’t be for sale, but I will have all the Longley pieces on display around the gallery.”
“Oh, and bad news about rescheduling a meeting with Val McKinley for the gallery manager position. Of all the resumes I’ve seen, she is the best qualified, at least on paper, but I got back in touch with her and found out more about the accident she was in. Apparently, it was that trolley by the park, the one that comes into town and then continues out to Martin Lighthouse. She was about to catch it to the gallery for her appointment with you when a little boy ran in front of it, and Val grabbed him and pushed him out of the way—and was hit by the trolley. That’s why she was late. She was all bruised up, her clothes were ruined, and she was in shock. It wasn’t a bad accident, just some road rash. But now she has the impression that we think she’s unreliable. And since then, she’s gone to work for the father of the child she saved, as his nanny. So, I guess Val is out.”
“That’s a shame. I admit I didn’t think very highly of her when she didn’t show up for the interview or call, but under the circumstances, I can understand why she didn’t. And I’m glad she’s okay and that the child is safe. Why don’t you give her a call and say we’re still interested if she can make it at some future date, and maybe she can come in and see the gallery and meet us. Maybe she’ll fall in love with the Venus Gallery. Meanwhile, I think between the four of us we can manage the main gallery here at the Longley location after our reception and soft opening, and since the Maple Avenue annex won’t officially open for a few more weeks, we can wait to fill that position. All of us are going to be pretty hands-on at both locations for a while at least, so it should work out. Let’s keep our fingers crossed she’ll have a change of heart.”
“I’ll give her a call,” Victoria said, as she gathered up her files and hugged Abby. “I can’t believe it’s really happening. When you first proposed this idea in Italy, I don’t think any of us thought it was real, but we’ve done it. My daughter, Emma, is coming from New York for the opening. She’ll be a big help.”
“That’s wonderful. I can’t wait to meet your daughter. Maybe I can set her up with that cute Caleb Reardon, the chef at the restaurant where we ate last night. I think they’re about the same age, and what woman wouldn’t want a man who knows his way around a kitchen? Talking about daughters, I’d better go up and find out what’s happening with Tack’s.”
“I think Jane is probably treating Isabella to a studio-style lunch up there, so why don’t you and I get a snack, and then you can take Isabella shopping this afternoon.”
“Sounds wonderful. Chef’s snacks are meals in themselves. And why is it no one wants me to go up to Jane’s studio? Is this some kind of conspiracy?”
“Nope,” Victoria said nonchalantly. “It’s just that I know how busy you are.”
“Too busy to ride the elevator up to the third floor?”
Victoria grabbed Abby’s elbow and led her into the kitchen. “I’m starving. Let’s eat. I’ll be back in a minute.”
“Okay, great,” said Abby. “I can hardly wait to take Isabella shopping. I’ve been waiting my whole life to take my little girl on a shopping spree. But I have to keep reminding myself she’s not mine.”
“Don’t be sad, Abby. Just look forward to the great afternoon you’re going to
have with her and try not to think about what a pig her father is. But, before Isabella comes down, I’m dying to know. How was the sex with Tack Garrity?”
Abby rubbed her lower lip with her forefinger. “I hate to admit it, but it’s the best I’ve ever had in a long time, maybe ever, even though it was rushed and in the front seat of a cramped car. But it was like we were both love-starved. We just pounced on each other. Like animals in a jungle. It wasn’t about love. It was more about raw need.”
“Is that the way it was with your husband?” Natalie asked.
Abby said quietly, “Tack Garrity is nothing like Louis. Not in any way. Louis was gentle and supportive and kind. And sex with Louis was tame. Tack is like this big brute of a brontosaurus who doesn’t mean to be destructive, but still he tramples on everything in his path and takes whatever he wants.”
“So you don’t welcome his advances,” Victoria said.
“Oh, well, there are other fish in the sea—or, as Tack might say, other whales in the pod.”
“What about that cute-looking attorney, Brandon Fairbanks?”
“Brandon is married, with three kids—happily married. And I’m not looking for a man. If it happens, it happens. It’s only been a year since I lost Louis. And he was one in a million. There will never be another man like him.”
Chapter Eleven
Abby pulled her green Jaguar into her private parking space directly in front of the Venus Gallery shop, located only two doors down from Hazeltine’s Department Store. Hazeltine’s had a children’s department, a specialty boutique she’d been visiting on and off ever since she and Louis first decided to have children.
She walked around to the passenger side of the car, unhooked Isabella’s seat belt, helped her out, and then locked the car as they walked hand in hand toward Hazeltine’s.
“So did you enjoy the morning with Miss Jane?”
“Yes, she is a good artist. She said she’d teach me to paint, too. She looked at my drawing and said I have talent. She doesn’t need me to pose for her anymore. She says she’s going to work on the picture while we’re gone and give it to me in a frame in a few days.”
“I know you’re going to love the picture. I can’t wait to see it.”
As they passed the display window, they admired its seasonal montage of selected merchandise, and then the overhead bell above the single glass door tinkled when they opened it.
Inside Hazeltine’s, they took the elevator up to the second floor. Abby had already made up her mind. One thing she had was an endless supply of money. Since Tack had none and apparently took no interest in how Isabella looked when she went out in public, Abby was going to take matters into her own hands.
The Pink Lobster occupied a spacious corner of the second floor inside Hazeltine’s, decorated with pink lobsters, lobster traps, shovels, and a fish net suspended from the ceiling. It was part of Hazeltine’s but was set apart as a special shop within the store. The boutique’s manager stocked the department with designer children’s clothing, some of the cutest Abby had ever seen. Over the years, she’d bought baby gifts from the Pink Lobster for her friends who had children.
All she’d ever wanted was a little girl of her own to dress up. But after years of trying, it became obvious it was never going to happen. She had so much love to give a child, but motherhood didn’t seem to be in the stars for her.
When she’d first met Isabella, the child was like her dream come true. If she were ever to have a child, she’d want her to be just like Isabella. The way she looked, the way she talked, the way she acted, the color of her hair. Like that song “She’s Not There” by The Zombies.
“Okay, Isabella, let’s shop ’til we drop.”
Isabella laughed hysterically at that, while Abby took her hand and found a saleslady.
“This young woman needs a whole new wardrobe. Can you help us?”
“Of course.” The girl bent down to Isabella’s level.
“What a beautiful daughter you have,” the salesgirl commented.
Abby flinched. “Oh, she’s not mine. She’s—”
“Sorry,” the girl apologized to Abby and turned to the child. “What’s your name?”
“Isabella.”
“That’s a beautiful name. I’m Casey. What’s your favorite color?”
“Pink,” stated Isabella.
“Well, you’re in luck, because we have a lot of pink clothes in the shop.” She looked at Isabella’s tutu. “Very interesting.”
Abby interceded. “That was her mother’s, so she likes to wear it, but I think Isabella would agree to leave it off while we’re trying on new clothes.”
Isabella nodded.
Abby breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay, let’s get started.”
Casey showed them a selection of casual clothing—colorful tees, jeans, shorts and blouses, swimwear—all designer labels, and then she brought out a collection of fancy dresses. In the past, when Abby had shopped at the Pink Lobster, she had dealt with the manager. She’d never seen this salesgirl before. Casey was young and very attractive, with her blonde hair cinched back in a ponytail. Very bright and bubbly and knowledgeable about her inventory.
Abby picked up a beautiful sparkly silver bag with a shoulder strap. “Isabella, what about this darling purse to go with your outfits? Oh, and Casey, do you carry shoes, too?”
“We have everything a little girl’s heart could desire. Let me show you.”
Isabella flitted around the department, pointing to this outfit and that. By the time they were through shopping, Abby and Isabella had gone through the department like a swarm of locusts and thinned out the shop’s merchandise considerably. Abby had stacks of shopping bags to carry home.
“Would you like these delivered somewhere?” Casey asked.
Abby hesitated. She didn’t even know where Tack lived, or rather where Tack’s mother lived, and she doubted Isabella could recite the address. “Um, it’s going to the home of a Mrs. Garrity, but I must admit I have no idea what the address is.”
“Tack Garrity?” said Casey, turning to Isabella. “Are you Tack’s daughter?”
“Yes,” answered Isabella.
“You know Tack?” Abby asked.
“Everyone in Lobster Cove knows Tack. I dated him for a while, but he never introduced me to his daughter. He’s pretty protective of her. You want these bags sent over to the Garrity house?”
“Yes, that would be nice. You know where it is?”
“Sure.”
A streak of jealousy crept into Abby’s consciousness. So Tack had dated this Barbie look-alike. And she’d been to his house. So what? If that was his type…
Pulling herself together, Abby managed, “Where does he live?”
“On Hidden Cove Drive.”
“Hidden Cove Drive? That’s impossible. I live on Hidden Cove Drive.”
“What a coincidence.”
“I mean, he couldn’t live on that road. All of the homes on that road are mansions.”
“It’s the Garrity mansion on Hidden Cove Drive. He lives at the end of the road, in the three-story pink stucco house.”
Abby shook her head. “I know that house. But no, you must be thinking of a different Garrity. This is Tack Garrity. He lives with his mother. He captains the boat that takes passengers out whale watching.”
“Well, sure. We’re talking about the same person. Tack only takes the boat out in his spare time. It has sentimental value. It was his dad’s boat, and now his dad is in a nursing home, so he likes to keep his hand in. It makes him feel closer to his dad. And his mother lives with him. That mansion is big enough to house the whole town. It’s one of the biggest houses in Lobster Cove, besides Longley House and the McClintock and Morgan mansions.”
Abby’s hand flew to her head. Her brain was hammering. She was so angry she felt sure she could feel the steam pouring out of her ears. That rat bastard was rich, damn him. And all this time he’d played the pauper and played her for a fool. She had bou
ght Isabella all these clothes when he could easily afford to buy out the store if he wanted to.
“Just what does Tack do for a living?” Abby inquired evenly.
“Oh, Tack? He’s an investor.”
“Really,” Abby said, biting her bottom lip until it nearly bled. Well, she’d already paid for the clothes. How was she going to explain it to Isabella if she changed her mind? And Isabella loved everything she’d tried on. Tack might have money, but he had no taste or scruples. The child still needed—and deserved—good clothing.
“Please deliver them all to the Garrity home, and thank you for the information.”
Abby picked up her purse, offered her hand to Isabella, who took it happily, and left the store. She’d promised to take Isabella for an ice cream sundae, and she didn’t want to disappoint the girl. But she was seething inside and couldn’t wait to confront Tack about his deception. She pumped Isabella for information on the way to the ice cream shop.
“When did your daddy say he was going to pick you up this afternoon?” Abby asked sweetly, eager for a showdown.
“I’m supposed to call him when I’m ready to come home,” Isabella said.
“After we get our ice cream, I think we’ll surprise Daddy, since I know where he lives now,” Abby said, struggling to keep her emotions in check.
At the ice cream shop, Abby tapped her shoe anxiously against the black-and-white checkered flooring, hardly touching her butterscotch sundae, while Isabella finished her hot fudge sundae, “with sprinkles on it.”
“This was the best day ever,” said Isabella as they were about to leave the ice cream shop. “Thank you for the clothes, Abigail”—Isabella hugged Abby tightly—“and the ice cream sundae. I love you.”
Abby’s heart expanded, and she hugged Isabella and kissed her softly on the crown of her yellow curls.
“I love you, too,” said Abby, tears glistening in her eyes.
She buckled Isabella into her seat, and they drove out of town, onto Hidden Cove Drive, and past Longley House, until they got to the humongous pink stucco at the end of the road.
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