Dreams Claimed (Warfield's Landing, #1)

by Adeara Allyne

  She glanced around the room and sighed, then looked at Glenn, waiting patiently.

  “I guess we need to talk?”

  “In my office?”

  “If you don’t want me too distracted, that might be a good idea.”

  *****

  Glenn settled back in his chair and Nic took the chair opposite. She laid the small drawing on the desk.

  “It is very hard for me to think of him as my father... or of Mom with anyone other than Daddy.”

  Glenn didn’t reply. Oddly, the silence was comfortable.

  After a brief time, Nic picked up the letter. Referring to it, she spoke.

  “I don’t want the money.”

  “Then leave it alone until something changes. It’s carefully invested and I’ll be keeping an eye on it, as well.”

  She glanced back at the letter. “So... In addition to the money, I’m to have my pick of any of Max’s possessions?”

  “Yes, under the terms of the will.”

  “Does Courtney know about this? That Max is tying her inheritance to mine?”

  “No... She knows about the money Max left you, but not about the Evie Collection, or that you are to have your pick of his possessions. And... as you requested, she doesn’t know that you are Max’s daughter.”

  “What if I don’t want anything?”

  “Regrettably, it is covered under the same requirement as the money. Everything will go to the hate group.” Glenn shook his head. “I tried to talk him out of it...”

  “Leaving nothing for Courtney, his widow?”

  “Leaving nothing for Courtney.”

  “Well, this makes me really uncomfortable. I don’t want to take something Courtney values... I’ve never been to his house...” She corrected herself. “I’ve never been to ANY of his houses. What am I supposed to do?” She stared blindly at the letter, then looked back at Glenn.

  “You know her... Courtney. How do I fulfill this request...” she stretched out the word with a bite, “and be sure I’m not taking something she wants?”

  Steepling his fingers, Glenn considered, running options. “You paint wearing men’s shirts?”

  The question surprised her, not sure what he meant, but she nodded.

  He explained. “Max mentioned it. He was amused.” She felt herself flush and he hurried on. “Max was a bit of a dandy, as I’m sure you noticed.”

  She smiled. “He told me that you egged him on. That you two competed.”

  Donning a straight face, he answered. “There may have been a touch of competitive spirit.”

  She chuckled.

  He gave a slight bow of his head in acknowledgment, and continued. “As a result of our, ermmm, competition, Max had an extensive wardrobe. He owned enough dress shirts to keep you in paint clothes for decades.” He added, “Custom made in London, of course.”

  She thought about it. “Are you sure that Courtney won’t mind?”

  He shrugged. “Why would she?” He elaborated. “You could ask for some of them... not take all of them.”

  “This would fulfill the terms of the will? And you said he had a lot?”

  Glenn nodded. “Yes, he had full wardrobes at all of their residences... he probably had 300 dress shirts, easily.”

  That left her speechless.

  CHAPTER 3

  Early May, present day in Washington, DC

  Daniel passed the old lady, careful not to jostle her. “Yeah, yeah,” he said to Luke, his best friend. “I’m on the escalator. I should be back at the condo in twenty minutes or so.” He stepped off of the moving stairs and strode over to the Metro platform, putting his phone away.

  Looking up and over, he glanced at the passengers waiting to travel in the opposite direction.

  She was on the other side of the Metro stop.

  With a distinct snap, Daniel Sterling jumped back in time from his 35 year old self into his 12 year old self.

  True, he was still waiting for the Washington DC Metro, and true, it was still the 21st century, but everything else was different.

  As a young teen, he’d had a strong and passionate crush on the young Audrey Hepburn — her short cropped hair and boyish figure immortalized within the yellowed pages of a magazine decades old. She had been wearing flat shoes, tight pants that ended above her slender ankles, all topped with a large, white man’s shirt, the collar unbuttoned to display her lovely neck, the sleeves carelessly rolled up to just below the elbows. She displayed a unique elegance he hadn’t seen since... until this moment.

  “Audrey!” He whispered under his breath and then shook his head to clear it. She was still there.

  While exquisite and slender, this Audrey was clearly an adult. Mid- twenties? Maybe even older? Cropped close, her warm dark hair glinted in the dim light. Its severe cut displayed a jawline and graceful neck that should be declared a national treasure.

  In a coincidence that had to be significant, like the photo from so long ago, she was wearing tight black pants—were they called leggings or something? A man’s large white formal shirt was untucked and fell mid-thigh. The sleeves were rolled up, revealing slender but strong, capable forearms. Automatically, he checked. Her fingers seemed to be bare.

  Multi-colored paint was haphazardly streaked down the front of the white shirt. It looked as if she had wiped her hands down it absentmindedly. Even if he hadn’t just fallen violently in love, he would have been charmed by this indication of vulnerability.

  He could tell from her posture that she was in flats. On her feet, rather than the staid black shoes he was expecting, he was entranced with her brightly painted canvas sneakers.

  He tried to calculate her height using the wall behind her for comparison... maybe 5’3” or 5’4”? And slender... easily under 120 pounds.

  From across the chasm of the train line, he watched as she answered her phone. She held it to her ear. Her lips didn’t move but the look of distaste on her face indicated that the call wasn’t welcome. She pulled the phone away, glanced at it, and dropped it into the large leather messenger bag that hung across her delicate frame. Rummaging in an outside pocket of the bag, she grabbed a small notebook and a pen, made a note, then tucked them away again. He was interested to see that she looked around, slowly. She was looking over everyone on her side of the platform. Hmmmmmm.

  He waited and, as he expected, she began a careful perusal of everyone on his side, as well. Instinct had him look away, just before her gaze passed over him. An inner sense told him she was in trouble. He casually adjusted his briefcase and when he looked up again, she was staring intently at the other end of his platform.

  He felt like he knew her intimately and could accurately read her body language. While she appeared at ease, the tight set of her shoulders indicated tension. He took the time to look over the waiting passengers on both sides of the stop. If he saw any of them again, he would know them.

  Now he needed to find out what kind of trouble she was in and fix it for her.

  At that moment, her train arrived and she disappeared from sight. The Metro pulled out, the platform was empty, and with a start he realized that while he knew her from his soul, he didn’t know her name. And... he hadn’t taken a picture of her.

  Well, shit.

  CHAPTER 4

  Four weeks later in Alexandria, VA

  Four weeks had passed and Daniel still hadn’t found his Audrey Hepburn. He hadn’t been particularly resourceful about his failure, either. He figured if he was stupid enough to turn his back on his best friend, Luke might just put him out of his misery.

  Tonight, he and Luke were eating Thai takeout, something they did on a regular basis. They were in his Alexandria, Virginia condo. Bentley, his eight year old Golden Retriever, was stretched out on the long black leather sofa, head resting against Luke’s leg.

  They had purchased condos in the same building years ago, and Luke took care of Bentley whenever Daniel was out of town. Bentley was comfortable in either place, and Daniel was grateful.
He had always wanted a dog and this arrangement with Luke made it practical.

  Daniel was sitting in a black leather armchair, pulled up to the coffee table. Luke had moved things around so that he could rest his crossed ankles on the low table. He had one arm stretched along the back of the sofa and his other hand was playing with Bentley’s ear. Bentley was snoring.

  Luke was grinning, his usual expression. In fact, Daniel secretly thought his good friend looked like a comfortable, grown-up Howdy Doody. Not handsome but pleasant. Women seemed to agree. Luke was also one of the nicest people Daniel had ever known.

  Except now... when the ever present grin was taking on shit-eating proportions. With a sinking feeling, Daniel knew that Luke was about to trounce on him in some as yet unidentified game of one-upmanship.

  “So...” Luke’s delivery was elaborately casual. “Have you found Audrey yet?”

  Daniel narrowed his eyes. “No.” He was being rude, but didn’t care.

  Luke’s grin widened and he reached into his shirt pocket with the hand that wasn’t petting the dog. He pulled out a folded and tattered brochure, tossing it across the table.

  The paper landed in the green curry with a quiet plop. Daniel lifted it out, knocked it against the cardboard container to get most of the food off and looked at it.

  “The Torpedo Factory?”

  “Yeah, you know, down on the river in Old Town Alexandria...” Luke was using his “helpful” voice.

  “I know where the Torpedo Factory is. Why did you give me this...” he looked more carefully, “class schedule?”

  “Open it and look at the right hand column.”

  Daniel unfolded the sheet, holding it by the corners while trying to avoid the curry, and looked as directed.

  His heart stopped.

  It was her!

  The picture was small, the printing less than stellar, and smears of their takeout further marred the image, but it was her. The tiny photo displayed that lovely neck and the sassy hairstyle.

  “Nic Bannerman.” He wasn’t aware that he had spoken out loud so Luke’s reply startled him.

  “She has a studio there and teaches a basic drawing class in the evening.”

  Daniel was calculating how soon he could get to the Torpedo Factory when another piece of paper floated across the table. This one landed in the Poh Tak soup.

  Startled, Daniel swore. “Dammit, Luke.”

  Laughing Luke waved a hand in the direction of the rapidly sinking paper. “Hey! I did you a favor. Take a look.”

  Daniel had to do even more mopping on this sheet. As he blotted it with a paper napkin, he looked it over. It was in Luke’s handwriting and said — Gallery 22 with a DC address.

  “What’s this?”

  “I asked around... did a little research... she has a show there.”

  Daniel looked at the address again... he could walk over from his office.

  Teasing, Luke asked him, “Who loves ya, baby? I find her for you AND,” he stressed the word, “I find a way for you to meet her. I think you need to start collecting art.” Luke continued. “Go to Gallery 22 and buy something of hers... then ask if you can meet her. Maybe even set up an appointment to see more of her stuff.”

  Daniel considered Luke’s plan. Something told him she wouldn’t be amenable to a stranger showing up at her studio and saying, “Hey! I’m Daniel Sterling and I’ve been in love with you my whole life. Marry me and have my babies.” He needed a strategy.

  Using the Gallery as an introduction made a lot of sense. Buying one of her pieces also made sense. He could afford it, and the condo could use something on the plain white walls. He hoped he liked her stuff.

  *****

  It wasn’t until two days later that Daniel was able to get free during business hours. It had been a frustrating two days. He finally knew who she was and where to find her and he ended up stuck at work.

  He was familiar with the world of contemporary art. CeeCee, his other best friend, had married an artist, and he’d made the obligatory appearances at shows and parties, offering moral support.

  He saw art he liked and art he didn’t like. He had always been amused by CeeCee’s passion for art, but hadn’t understood it.

  He glanced in the widow of Gallery 22. Okay. Pretty pictures. He could live with them, if necessary. He pushed open the heavy glass door and entered.

  Looking around the large white space, he took in an attractive red haired young woman in the requisite “Artist’s Black” and nodded politely. Further glancing, he saw more pretty pictures. He started to move around the room. He stood at each painting long enough to be polite, and spent most of his time trying to read the signatures.

  They were colorful and innocuous enough that he’d be able to live with any one of them, but none seemed to be signed “Nic Bannerman”.

  Finishing his circuit put him at the desk, where the young woman was talking on the telephone. She ended the phone call with a vivacious laugh, then smiled at him. “May I help you?”

  “I’m looking for work by Nic Bannerman. Is she showing here?”

  Smiling, the young woman, Stevie — according to her name tag, walked around the desk and led him toward the back of the gallery. He saw a doorway and followed her through.

  In that moment, for the first time, he understood CeeCee’s passion for art. On the wall across from him was a large, vibrant, colorful canvas.

  He caught his breath.

  He stared.

  Hearing a faint buzz, he realized the young woman was speaking. He turned to face her. Looking amused, she repeated what she’d been saying.

  “This is Nic’s latest series. She’s a former dancer and the focus of this series is ballet dancers. She has been working with the local ballet company, attending their rehearsals, sketching and photographing them.”

  He glanced around, seeing numerous paintings, along with some sketches and other less finished works.

  Stevie continued, “We’re the exclusive dealers for this series and this is a long term show. She’s still adding work. In fact, I talked with her today and she mentioned that she was in the process of preparing several new canvases. She’ll probably be delivering them next week.”

  That got his attention. On a hunch, he asked... “Was that who you were just talking with?”

  At her nod, he knew what his strategy needed to be. From the sound of the conversation, Stevie and Nic were friends. He’d need to impress Stevie so she’d give him a good recommendation with Nic.

  “Well, if you don’t mind, I’ll like to look around here and then maybe I can talk with you about any new paintings the artist will be bringing in?”

  She beamed at him. “I’ll be at my desk. I’ll call Nic back and get more information about when she plans to bring in her new work.”

  “That would be great!” He smiled warmly. She left the room and he was free to look his fill.

  If anyone had mentioned ballet pictures to him before this moment, he’d have imagined fluffy pink tutus, candy box pretty dancers, and toe shoes with ribbons.

  Now, he was engrossed in the raw power of practice clothes, sweat, and looking at a close-up sketch of damaged feet... bloody and brutal.

  He took his time, looking at paintings and sketches. He found everything riveting.

  As he finished his circuit, he did a quick glance around, calculating the purchase prices. He made a very good living and hadn’t had any expensive hobbies... until now.

  He, Luke, and CeeCee all had trust funds, but in high school, they’d made a pact not to be typical Trust Fund kids. As a result, his trust fund had been sitting there and growing. He knew the same was true of Luke and CeeCee’s.

  Now he knew what he wanted to spend it on.

  He loved every Nic Bannerman drawing and painting on display, but he was smart. He didn’t want to scare her off. He figured he’d buy enough to make a strong statement and get an introduction.

  “Stevie,” he called as he walked over to her desk. �
�I’ve picked out a few pieces I want to buy.” Her eyes brightened. “Is it possible to have them delivered?”

  *****

  An hour later, he walked back to his office. Two small, framed drawings were under his arm and he had an appointment to meet the artist next week. The other paintings would be delivered tomorrow. He made a mental note to tell the concierge at the condo to expect the delivery.

  His life had changed in the last few hours and he planned to enjoy the sensation. He’d get these drawings hung this afternoon so he could see them every day at work.

  He hummed, mentally rearranging the furniture in his condo. It had all been placed to make the most of the large windows and the cityscape they framed. Now it was going to be set up so these paintings could be enjoyed. Too bad CeeCee was in New York for the next few weeks. He knew she’d love to help him play interior designer.

  CHAPTER 5

  Next week, delivering paintings in Washington, DC

  Nic pulled up behind the gallery, putting her venerable mini-van into park. She was feeling rushed. She’d had to stop painting in order to deliver these paintings on the schedule she’d promised. Now all she wanted was to get back to work.

  She was on time, but that wasn’t because of her organizational skills. In fact, it was pretty much dumb luck.

  The drive from Old Town Alexandria into Washington, DC had been pleasant. She’d cruised up the George Washington Parkway and crossed the Potomac on the Fourteenth Street Bridge. Traffic had been light on this bright clear summer day. The middle of June, the summer heat was not yet oppressive and, better yet, the humidity was still bearable.

  Nic hopped out, rang the bell beside the blank metal door and opened the van’s sliding door. It caught and she had to tug it open. She shook her head... she knew... someday it was gonna stay stuck.

  Coming directly from her studio, she was in paint clothes — a large white man’s shirt fell to mid-thigh. The sleeves were rolled up and simple black shorts peeked from beneath the shirt hem. Her newest pair of canvas slides had been decorated with acrylic paint. This pair featured an Op Art pattern in an homage to the Sixties. She dressed for practicality and comfort.