The elusive gold flecks glowed in his eyes. “As it happens, I do have a better idea for the money. But if that’s what you needed to believe me, I’d count every dollar well spent.”
“I—”
Someone knocked on the front door. They jumped apart, and Michael let out a low growl. “Good timing.” He grinned at Amy. “You put that in water, and I’ll see what’s so important out there.”
Shaking, trying to process what had almost happened — had he really been about to kiss her? — Amy dragged the step-stool over to the cupboard and climbed up to reach a bud vase on the top shelf.
The guard’s voice reached her, and Michael’s. Then the door slammed.
Michael stuck his head back into the kitchen as her feet hit the floor. His face looked set in stone. Angry stone. “Zarin. Ross. Wants to pick up the painting he bought at the open house.”
Amy couldn’t stop a little squeal.
He held up his hand. “The guard’s sending him to the gallery door. I’ll handle this alone.”
“But what if—” The words burned her suddenly-parched throat.
“Del said the attack means they know I know about them. Not from Gilles — they’d think Luc told me when he was trying to stop us asking questions.”
Us… Amy bit her lip. She’d latched onto Troy’s suspicions alone, against Michael’s advice.
“Don’t worry — and don’t come near him. Ross wants to see how I’ll react about last night. This is intimidation. Not another attack.” Michael’s chin came up. “Although if he does try anything, Del brought cameras and microphones last night. I don’t know where he found everything so fast. He can collect evidence and send the cavalry.” Michael took off through the house.
Amy stared after him. How long would the mythical cavalry take to arrive?
She didn’t dare let Ross see her. What if she gave something away about Gilles? But she couldn’t stay here at the mercy of her imagination.
One hand gripping Del’s security device, Amy hurried from the room and sneaked toward the connecting doors to the gallery.
Chapter 32
Amy peeked around the edge of the stairs. Michael had closed the French doors to the gallery. She saw him let Ross in and lead him toward the office, but she couldn’t hear a word.
She raced back to the kitchen and down the workshop stairs. How sensitive was the baby monitor they used to let them hear the gallery’s door chime?
Since the time Aunt Bay had been startled by voices from the basement, they’d left the receiver turned off unless Amy or Michael was working down here and on call for customers. Amy scanned the shelf for it now and her heart sank. If Michael had taken it to his studio since the last time she’d used it here, it was buried and probably in pieces.
A nearby plastic crate functioned as a step. With the extra height, Amy could reach behind the cans of wood stain. She clenched her teeth. If her fingertips met anything small and furry, or crawly, Ross would hear her scream. Instead they slid off smooth plastic. She tipped one of the cans forward until she could reach the monitor lying on its side at the back of the shelf.
Her hip protested as she dropped her foot to the floor. Should have led with the good leg. Right now, it didn’t matter. Amy spun the dial from off to max and pressed the speaker to her ear. Voices, indistinct but getting clearer. They must be carrying the painting from the office into the gallery proper.
“…with the amount of your work we’ve been acquiring for our hotels.”
Amy dialled back the volume.
“I’m sure we can work something out. Although after last night’s vandalism, I won’t have as much to offer.” Michael’s tone was brittle.
“I sympathize. And I hope nothing like this happens in the future.”
There was a pause. If only she could see their faces, read their body language.
Ross continued. “Amy’s questions seemed to have stirred things better left alone. How is she?”
“She’ll be okay.”
“I understand she received threats before your work was destroyed. It would be tragic if anything were to happen to her.” Ross’ voice barely changed, but his menace came through loud and clear.
Amy shuddered. This was not the man she’d thought she knew. Her fingers ached from her death-grip on the monitor. She flexed them, one at a time.
“Tragic indeed. And unlike Luc Renaud, I would have nothing left to lose.”
Serious undercurrent in Michael’s words, too. Amy could picture the look on his face. Stern, unflinching. A shade darker than usual.
Silence dragged. Then Ross laughed, light and controlled. “Your aunt might not appreciate being overlooked. In any case, such grim events are to be avoided.”
“At all costs. Let me bypass the alarm for your exit. We don’t need to set the thing off for nothing.”
Amy sank onto the plastic crate. She dropped the monitor in her lap and cradled her face in her palms. “God, won’t You help us? Keep us safe?”
The speaker carried the sound of the door closing, then Michael’s footsteps receding. Amy went upstairs to meet him, but he didn’t come into the kitchen right away. Watching to see if Ross really left? Debriefing with the guard?
When he finally appeared, he came straight to her and took her hands. “I know it was him, and he knows I know. I think that’s all he wanted to establish.”
Amy gripped his hands. “I heard you on the workshop monitor. Michael, I’m scared.”
“Me, too.” A smile softened his face. “For now, we’re safe. Walk with me? We’ll leave a note for Aunt Bay, and I mentioned it to the guard. I’ll just go hit the alarm bypass button again.”
Amy tore a sheet from the memo pad on the fridge and scrawled Walking with Michael. Back soon. She left it beside the rosebud.
He opened the door. “I meant to tell you, there are wireless alarms on all the windows now, including yours. Bedrooms and bathroom are camera-free, but they put microphones everywhere.”
Michael put out a hand to help Amy down the steps from the deck. He didn’t let go when they reached the grass.
They strolled in silence for a few minutes, until he stopped and leaned his back against a tall pine tree, its needles whispering high above them. “I need to ask you a question.”
Amy looked down at their linked hands. “Okay.”
“What you said about the red roses today… now that I know what they mean… is this new? Since you started suspecting me of ulterior motives?”
“But I believe — the person who spoke for you last night.” No saying Gilles was alive, not even out here with only the squirrels listening.
“I’m glad.” He moved her hand in a little bouncing motion. “Amy, this matters. Which came first?”
“I was… fond of you before I started paying any attention to Emilie. Why?”
The lines around his mouth relaxed. “Otherwise, it wouldn’t be healthy. Like a type of Stockholm Syndrome or something. Where the captive bonds with the — in this case perceived — captor.”
“So last night I was afraid you were unstable, and today you’re worried about my mental health? Aunt Bay would call us both nuts.”
“Hey, there’s a big difference in degree. I needed to be sure before I told you—” Michael lifted her hand and placed a gentle kiss on the back.
The current nearly lifted Amy off the ground.
His eyes shone brown with gold. “I’ve loved you for so long. I finished your portrait so I’d have a reminder when you went back to the world you had before Gilles. When you stayed, I hoped you’d come to love me once you healed… all those times you thought I was throwing Gilles back at you, I was reaching. Hoping you’d say you were over him. By the time you did, I’d lost your trust.”
A crooked grin split his face. “That’s my deep, dark secret that you worried about.”
Amy remembered to breathe. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this.”
His grin died. “I misunderstood.”
&
nbsp; “No, you goof! I’ve wished so hard, so long, and I thought you’d never notice me. You hide your feelings very well.”
“I didn’t want to frighten you.”
“Well that worked well.” Amy raised her free hand to his cheek. “I love you, Michael. And I’m so glad you’re not a murderer or an obsessive creepy guy. Or longing for my former fiancé.”
Michael rolled his eyes. “You’ve got a wild imagination.”
“But I’m not imagining this, right?”
“No. And my heart’s still on the table.”
Amy arched an eyebrow at him. “Even though you’re giving me trouble from the start. Luckily, my phone adviser last night told me how to handle you.”
“I may regret this.”
“You’d better not.” Amy stood on tiptoes and pulled his head down for their first kiss.
~~~
Strolling toward the house, hand in hand with Michael, felt… complete. As if Amy’s heart were a puzzle and all the pieces had settled into the places for which they’d been cut.
She looked up at the broken window to Michael’s studio, now sealed with plastic. Too bad the larger puzzle of her life still had such rough-edged holes.
The alarm beeped its warning when they opened the back door. Michael called, “It’s us, Aunt Bay.” He jogged to the security panel and cleared the alert.
Amy hesitated in the kitchen. Fatherless. Conceived in sin. The old shame rushed back. What if Aunt Bay judged her unworthy of Michael’s love?
“Stop it,” she whispered to herself. “I belong in God’s family. Adopted. Loved. Accepted. She believes that. I do, too.”
Amy stroked the pink rosebud for comfort, then marched after Michael. She found him in the doorway to the living room, talking with his aunt. As Amy approached, he held out his hand. A smile warmed his face.
Aunt Bay huffed. “It took you two long enough.”
“It was only a short walk.” Amy resisted the guilt that rose at the sharp words. She grabbed Michael’s hand. “Has something else happened?”
The older woman shook her head, eyes glinting. She pointed at their joined hands. “I meant that. Seeing what was right in front of you. If you get married soon enough, I can go on that spring cruise.”
Amy laughed. For this, she’d had to fight off the old voices? She threw her arms around Aunt Bay and received a fierce hug in return.
“Welcome to the family, child.”
Michael hadn’t said a word. Surely he knew Aunt Bay was joking. He would propose, though, once they’d been together long enough to sort out their relationship… wouldn’t he?
Amy pulled free of Aunt Bay and turned to face him.
He stood leaning against the door frame, shaking his head gently. “Incorrigible. Just like you said.” At least he didn’t seem offended. Or opposed to the idea.
Michael held Amy’s gaze for a long moment. Warmth flickered inside her.
Then he shrugged. Stepped forward and dropped to one knee in front of her.
Amy’s heart stopped.
“I hope we both knew this was coming, so why not now?” Adoration glowed in his eyes, his smile. “Amy Silver, will you marry me?” He held the pose a little longer, then stood and took her hands, still holding her gaze. “You don’t have to answer today. Take as long as you need… to say yes.”
She could get seriously lost in those eyes. “Yes.”
Michael winked and reached for her. “Close your eyes, Aunt Bay.” His kiss held a promise to love, honour, and cherish — and to delight.
When it ended, Aunt Bay had left the room. Amy nestled into Michael’s shoulder. “Even Gilles waited until we’d had our first date before he proposed.”
“Yes, but we’ve lived together for two years.”
Together, but apart. “Michael? Now’s not the time to set a date, but let’s not wait too long.”
“How do you feel about a Christmas wedding? Neal could come here instead of you going there.”
“This Christmas?” Less than three months away.
“If you need more time, we’ll take it. I want this to live up to your dreams.”
Amy trailed her fingers along his spine. “You are my dream. The ceremony is a bonus. Besides, I don’t do frilly and fussy. Especially when we’re paying for it ourselves.”
“Miss Silver, you are indeed a woman after my own heart.”
Amy giggled. “I have to tell my dad. And Troy.” She tried to frown at Michael but couldn’t pull it off. “You need to talk to Troy. The whole ‘date’ thing was his way of shaking you up to ask me out, yourself. He saw how I felt Saturday night, and took pity on me.”
“I wish I’d seen it. I was too afraid I’d scared you and ruined my chances. But I had to get you away from Ross.”
“I hope we can both keep away from him.”
“Amen.” Michael dropped a kiss into her hair. “Let’s go find Aunt Bay.”
His aunt was in the kitchen. The table held a plate of sandwiches and a green salad. Three matching china mugs waited on the counter beside the stove. “Amy, tea or coffee?”
“Tea, please.”
Aunt Bay raised the teapot to pour, while Michael reached for the coffee pot. As soon as they’d settled at the table, Aunt Bay said the shortest blessing Amy had ever heard, and then fixed them with alternating stares. “Well?”
Michael shrugged. “She changed her mind.”
“You did not.”
“Of course I didn’t.” Amy swatted at his arm and turned her attention to Aunt Bay. “Incorrigible must run in the family.”
Aunt Bay insisted on hearing their story over lunch. Michael told her what she wanted first, and finished with an update about the insurance adjuster’s visit. “We should hear from the company soon, but I can start cleanup this afternoon.”
His aunt clucked her tongue. “Such a shame.”
Michael pressed his knee against Amy’s. “I don’t know. It was a cruel, personal attack, but that’s what broke through the misunderstandings and brought us together. Honestly? When this guy’s safely behind bars, I ought to thank him.”
“Just pray it’ll be soon.” Aunt Bay’s grim tone lifted the hair on Amy’s arms.
Once the table was cleared, Michael excused himself to make some calls. He snapped Amy a salute. “Troy is on my list. I owe that man a steak.”
“Is that all I’m worth to you? A single steak?”
“It’ll be a thick one. Marinated.”
Amy snatched a tea towel and flicked it at him, but he ducked out of the room.
Aunt Bay chuckled. “Well, that’s half the trouble lifted from this house. He’s been a walking rain cloud for a long time, and you haven’t been much lighter.”
Amy hugged her again. “Thanks for putting up with us. Why didn’t you tell us what the other felt?”
“Child, I may be outspoken, but I don’t meddle.”
Amy’s cell vibrated a text alert. The Alberta number again. Gilles — Nathin. She skimmed the words. M said to text you. What’s up? “I need to reply to this. I’ll just be a minute.”
“Take your time. I want to have a lie down before you two start pulling trash out of the studio.”
Squinting at the screen, Amy typed, Your advice worked. He proposed. Thank you. For everything. Stay safe.
The phone buzzed again. A winking emoticon with a grin that was practically a leer.
Amy stuffed the device back in her pocket and walked to the window. Looking out over the water usually lulled her, but today she had too many emotions and reactions jumping hoops inside. Michael loved her. In three months, they’d be married. Unless Ross carried out his death threats.
She pressed her forehead against the glass. He had no reason to harm either of them. Michael was cooperating. But what if Ross found out about the investigation — or about Gilles?
Was it weird that she wanted to invite “Nathin” to the wedding?
An incoming phone call made a welcome distraction until Amy checke
d the call display. Emilie. Tension crept between her shoulders. “Hi Emilie. No classes today?”
“Next one starts in twenty minutes. Dad texted that someone broke in and trashed a bunch of paintings. Is Michael okay?”
“He’s handling it better than I would have.”
“That’s Michael. Amazing. Dad said one was a portrait of you. Slashed. Amy, you need to get out of there.”
“The message said to stay.”
“Don’t you see? That’s Michael. Trying to control you. Listen, if you don’t have the money, I’ll buy your ticket. You have to go.”
“Emilie. Stop. Michael is perfectly fine, and you know it. You’re not going to scare me away.”
Was Emilie behind the threats? But then the only painting damaged would be the one of Amy, and how would the girl have known it existed?
Plus, the beheaded doll had a strong Islamic-extremist feel.
Amy braced a hand against the back of a kitchen chair. “Listen, Em… you’re not going to like this, but you need to know. Michael and I are getting married.”
Emilie’s breath hissed. “Don’t trust him. It’s just another way to manipulate you.”
“I’m sorry. You need to let him go. Find someone your own age, who likes to party.”
“I’m coming out there. As soon as my classes end.”
“Fine, but he won’t be here. He has plans on Tuesdays.”
“Then I’ll come tomorrow afternoon. I have a test in the morning. Which I will fail now, because of you.” Emilie let out a theatrical sob, and the connection cut.
Amy groaned. Something to look forward to. Not.
Chapter 33
Amy tied the last bundle of splintered easel wood. On the other side of the room, Michael filled another garbage bag. They hadn’t accomplished much yesterday afternoon before his meeting, and she hadn’t wanted to be in here alone.
She kept finding herself staring at Michael. It was still a little surreal. She’d wished he could love her, hoped for it, and even prayed. Why did it feel so unbelievable?
He met her eyes and his expression cleared. “Getting tired?”
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