He threw off his blankets and walked across the room. The Winslow Homer painting was missing. He checked the landing, looking behind the table and fold-out bed. It wasn’t there.
Hannah had covered some of Ida’s paintings in tissue paper and stored them in the attic. The small oil painting could have been put away, but Hannah hadn’t said which ones she’d wrapped.
There was no point rummaging through the attic. He’d only wake everyone and undo the work that Hannah and her sister had finished yesterday.
He pulled out his phone and went downstairs. Hannah wouldn’t mind if he called her, especially if one of her favorite paintings had disappeared.
Brett glanced at his watch. Or maybe she might.
***
Hannah closed her eyes and tried to relax. After sharing a large slice of cake with her sister, she knew her chances of getting any sleep were hopeless.
But today had been one of those Christmases when sleep was optional. You couldn’t ignore someone sending a threatening email or promising to hurt another person. It was no wonder Dave’s family was stressed. At least her own mom wasn’t violent or abusive. She just didn’t want anything to do with her daughters.
As she turned onto her side, Hannah hugged her pillow close. If it hadn’t been for Pat, Brett, and Mrs. Bennett, Dave’s family would have had a terrible day. Their lovely Christmas lunch and the unexpected gifts they’d exchanged had made everyone smile.
With a frustrated sigh, she looked at her watch and frowned.
If she weren’t asleep in ten minutes, she’d find a book to read or escape to her studio. Claire would be horrified if she saw her painting at one o’clock in the morning, but it was better than spending another hour tossing and turning.
Just when she’d resigned herself to not sleeping, her cell phone rang. She stumbled toward her dresser. No one called this late unless it was important. “Hello?”
“Hannah? It’s Brett.”
“What’s happened?”
“Nothing. Well, something has happened, but I’m hoping you can tell me it’s okay.”
Hannah rubbed her forehead. She must be more tired than she thought because Brett wasn’t making any sense. “I don’t understand.”
“Do you remember the oil painting by Winslow Homer at the top of the stairs?”
“The one with the two boys playing with their sailing boats?”
“That’s the one. Did you hang it somewhere else or store it in the attic?”
“No. After I cataloged each painting, I left them in the same place I found them. The only paintings that Claire and I moved were already in the attic.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. What happened to the painting?”
“It’s disappeared.”
Hannah’s eyes widened. “What do you mean, ‘disappeared’?”
“I don’t know if it was moved or stolen. It was definitely on the wall on Christmas Eve. It went missing sometime on Christmas day.”
“No one at the ranch would have stolen it,” she said with certainty. “And there was no reason for anyone to move it. If someone else came into the house and took it, we would have seen them.”
“I don’t know what’s happened to it.”
“Hang on. I’ll ask Claire if she saw it.” Hannah rushed into the hallway and gently knocked on her sister’s door. “Are you awake?”
A thump came from inside Claire’s bedroom. If she wasn’t awake before, she was now.
Hannah pushed opened the door. “It’s me. I need to ask you a question.”
“Can’t it wait until the morning?” Claire muttered.
“It’s important. Brett has lost one of the paintings at Pat’s house.”
Claire turned on her bedside lamp. “What do you mean? Where did he put it?”
“He hasn’t put it anywhere. Did you move the Winslow Homer painting on the upstairs landing?”
“That’s the one that’s missing?”
“It’s not on the wall.”
Claire rubbed her eyes. “It was there when we left on Thursday. He doesn’t think that we—”
“Of course not,” Hannah said quickly.
Claire yawned. “The only paintings I moved were the ones we wrapped in tissue paper. Has he asked Pat?”
“I don’t know. I’ll find out and tell you in the morning. Goodnight.”
“You don’t need to tiptoe,” Claire mumbled.
She smiled and left her sister’s room. As soon as Hannah was in the hallway, she held the phone to her ear. “Did you hear that?”
“I did.” He sighed. “I’ll ask Pat and Mrs. Bennett about the painting in the morning.”
Hannah knew he was worried. “If it’s any consolation, I don’t think anyone would have stolen the painting. If I were a burglar, I’d take a piece of art that’s a lot closer to the entranceway.”
“All the paintings downstairs are huge. The painting that’s disappeared could easily be hidden in something else.”
Hannah sat on the end of her bed. “Will you call the police?”
“Not at the moment. There isn’t a lot they can do until the morning. Besides, the last thing Dave or his family needs is to be woken by the police.”
“Why don’t you try to get some sleep? There must be a logical explanation about why it’s not on the wall.”
“I hope so,” Brett said with less certainty than Hannah hoped he would. “I’ll call you after I’ve talked to Pat and Mrs. Bennett.”
“That would be great. Goodnight.”
After she’d ended the call, Hannah stared at her phone. The only reason someone would take the painting was for money. She just hoped Brett found the picture before the police became involved. Because if Dave’s dad was behind the painting’s disappearance, his whole family would be under suspicion.
***
Later that morning, Brett was in the kitchen before anyone else.
“You’re awake early,” Mrs. Bennett said. She poured herself a cup of coffee and sat beside him. “You don’t look as though you slept well last night.”
Brett closed his laptop. “I was worried about Dave and his family.”
“That’s understandable. Hopefully, the police will be able to track down the owner of the wallet. I feel a little unsafe knowing someone was on Pat’s property without anyone seeing them.”
“Once Fletcher Security have installed their cameras it will make the ranch safer. Can I ask you a question about one of Pat’s paintings?”
“Of course. What is it you want to know?”
“Did you move the painting at the top of the stairs? It’s the one with two little boys playing with their sailing ships.”
“Isn’t it on the wall?”
Brett shook his head. “I can’t find it. I called Hannah last night to see if she’d moved it, but she hadn’t.”
“That’s strange. The last time I saw it was on Christmas morning. After Dave received the anonymous email, Pat invited his family to stay the night. I remember seeing it as I was getting extra linen out of the closet.”
“Do you know what time that would have been?”
Mrs. Bennett frowned. “Let’s see. You didn’t arrive home from seeing Ida until eleven-thirty. I made the beds before anyone else arrived, so it must have been about midday. There must be a good reason it isn’t on the wall. Have you asked Pat?”
“I haven’t seen him this morning.”
“He was in the living room a few minutes ago.”
Brett pushed his chair away from the table. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. And don’t worry. The painting has to be here somewhere.”
Brett wasn’t so sure. He walked toward the living room and stood in the doorway. Pat had turned on the Christmas lights and was staring at the tree.
“Are you all right?” Brett asked.
Pat turned and sent him a tired smile. “I was thinking about the other Christmases we’ve had in the house. You don’t look that great.”
Brett ran his hand along his prickly jaw. “I didn’t get much sleep.”
“You weren’t the only one. What on earth is happening? Surely the police can stop Dave’s father from harassing his family.”
“I’m sure they’re doing everything they can. Hopefully, someone will contact us today to let us know what’s going on.”
“If they don’t, I’ll call them,” Pat muttered. “Dave’s mom is already stressed. She doesn’t need her ex-husband’s violent threats.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” Brett moved away from the door frame. “I need to ask you about something else.”
Pat sat back in the chair. “I’m listening.”
“It’s about the Winslow Homer canvas that’s usually at the top of the stairs. Do you know where it has gone?”
“Gone? It should still be there.”
“It disappeared sometime between midday yesterday and last night. I didn’t notice it was gone until one o’clock this morning. Hannah, Claire, and Mrs. Bennett don’t know where it is.”
Pat scowled. “I haven’t moved it. Have you checked the other rooms upstairs?”
“Not yet. I’ll wait until everyone’s awake before having a look.”
“Do you think this has got anything to do with the wallet you found?”
Brett didn’t know what to think. “It seems like too much of a coincidence. The email Dave received was bad enough. If his dad’s gambling buddies want his debts paid, then the painting would be a good place to start.”
“They wouldn’t be that foolish. No reputable auction house would touch a painting that had no ownership papers. They’d never be able to sell it.”
“There’s always the black market.”
Pat rubbed his hand across his eyes. “We’ll search the house this morning. If we can’t find the painting, we’ll contact the police.”
“You might want to hold off on calling the police.”
“Why?”
Brett didn’t want to say the next words, but he had no choice. “I’d like to speak to Dave and Thomas before we go to the police.”
“You think they might know where the painting has gone?”
“I’m not sure. But if they do, they’ll need to make things right. They won’t be able to do that if they go to jail.”
Pat stood and joined Brett in the middle of the room. “I won’t tell Ida. It will break her heart to know someone stole the painting from our home.”
Brett nodded. “Hopefully, it’s still here.”
“I hope so, too.” Pat looked across the room as Dave’s brothers rushed into the room.
“Good morning, Mr. McConachie,” Jeremiah said in his serious, seven-year-old’s voice. “Mrs. Bennett wants you to know that breakfast will be ready in fifteen minutes.”
Abel stepped in front of his brother. “She’s making pancakes. They smell good.”
“I’m looking forward to it already,” Pat said in an equally serious tone.
Brett looked at the boys. “Is your mom awake?”
“Mom’s having a shower,” Abel said. “But she’ll be downstairs soon. Do you want to talk to her?”
“I’d like that very much. But for now, I’m going to check the attic for something.”
“Can we help?” Jeremiah asked.
Pat walked toward the living room door. “Not today, but you could come with me to see Mrs. Bennett. She might have some strawberries left over from yesterday.”
“Yum.” Abel licked his lips. By the looks of things, he had already tasted the sweet, out-of-season fruit.
Pat sent Brett a quick smile. “Let me know if you find anything.”
“I will.” If Brett thought yesterday was hard, today would be worse. He needed to find the missing painting. Otherwise, everyone who had been on the ranch would be under suspicion.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Hannah poured milk over her cereal and tried to not to worry about what was happening on the ranch.
Claire glanced at her. “Whatever is on your mind can’t be that bad.” She placed two pieces of bread in the toaster. “Have you heard from Brett?”
“Not yet.” It was after eight o’clock. She was sure Dave’s brothers would have woken early, giving Brett the perfect opportunity to search the house. “Where do you think the painting could have gone?”
Claire shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know, but I hope they find it.” While her toast was cooking she opened her laptop. “I’m sure Brett will call you when he has more information. But, in the meantime, we’ve got a wedding that needs our attention.”
“I can’t believe the Jenkins’ wedding is less than two weeks away.”
With two clicks of her mouse, Claire opened a file on her laptop. “It has come around fast. And when this is over, we’re staging another three weddings, an anniversary party, three corporate functions, and a Bar Mitzvah—all before the end of February.”
“We’ll be busy.”
Claire’s toast popped. “What have you decided to do about the residency in Vancouver?”
Hannah hesitated before answering. “I haven’t had time to think about it.” She looked at her bowl of cereal, hoping her sister didn’t see through her little white lie. Over the last few days, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it. But if she admitted that to her sister, Claire would keep pestering her until she gave her an answer.
“Don’t leave making your decision until the last minute. I’m sure there are lots of other artists who would jump at the chance to take your place.”
Hannah choked on her Frosted Flakes. “Is that supposed to make my decision easier?”
“I’m being practical; something you seem to have forgotten. Whatever you decide is up to you. But you might not get another chance to work in Vancouver.”
“You don’t think I know that?”
Claire sat at the table. “Knowing it and doing something about it are two different things.” She bit into a piece of toast and pointed to her screen. “Tell me if I’ve forgotten anything.”
Hannah turned her sister’s laptop toward her and went through their spreadsheet. They’d already read the document so many times that she could have recited their plan off by heart. But sometimes, when you least expected it, inspiration would hit and you’d see something you’d never noticed before.
“Everything looks good to me.” Hannah ran her gaze over the completed items. Claire had been busy. “You’ve done a great job.”
“There’s a lot of hard work ahead of us. Mrs. Jenkins and her daughter want to meet on Wednesday to go over everything.”
Hannah left her spoon in her bowl and scrolled through the list. “Has her daughter’s dress arrived?”
“It’s hanging in Mrs. Jenkins’ closet. There are still a few small jobs that need to be finished before our meeting. I’ve highlighted the tasks you need to do in pink. Mine are in yellow.” Claire handed her a plastic folder. “Here is a paper copy. When you’ve completed them, mark them off the electronic sheet.”
“Yes, boss.”
Claire waved a piece of toast at Hannah. “This is serious business. The Jenkins’ wedding could be the boost we need for our business.”
“We don’t need a boost. We need a vacation.”
“What did I say about cataloging the McConachies’ art collection?”
Hannah opened the folder her sister had given her. “It was fun. Pat and Ida were very grateful for what I did.”
“And you spent time with Brett.”
“That, too,” Hannah mumbled.
Claire tilted her head sideways. “You like him, don’t you?”
Hannah didn’t know how to describe her feelings for Brett. “He’s different than most people.”
“Different in a good way?”
“A very good way.”
“And he’s the reason you’re still unsure about going to Vancouver?”
Hannah rested her elbows on the table. “What happens if I leave Bozeman and he dates someone else?
”
“Then you weren’t meant to be in a relationship with him.”
Hannah sighed. “Why do you make it sound so easy?”
“Because I’m not the person who wants to be a full-time artist.” She pushed the Jenkins’ wedding folder closer to Hannah. “For now, forget about Brett and Vancouver. We’ve got a wedding to organize.”
Hannah saluted her sister. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Just read the spreadsheet,” Claire growled.
“I wish I had a dollar for every time you’ve told me that.”
“You’ve taught me that lists are an important part of my life. Read.”
Hannah ran her finger along each line. Everything looked great until she saw the last entry. “Rent two dozen white doves? That wasn’t there last time I checked.”
“Mrs. Jenkins had a rush of inspiration last weekend. She wants white doves released into the air after her daughter and son-in-law-to-be sign the marriage license.” Claire grinned. “I know. She’s crazy. It’s the middle of winter and I don’t even know if doves fly in the cold.”
“It could be a lot worse. She might decide the venue is too traditional and want something different.”
Claire threw her hands over her ears. “I didn’t hear you say that and neither did Mrs. Jenkins, thank goodness. Don’t even mention the venue at our meeting.”
“I promise to be on my best behavior. But if the white doves don’t like the cold, I’m not telling her.”
Claire wiped toast crumbs from her mouth. “Fine. I’ll be the potential bearer of bad news, but I need a favor from you. Promise me you’ll seriously think about the art residency.”
Hannah knew that time was running out to make her decision. If she went to Vancouver, they’d need to hire someone to help Claire. If she stayed, she needed to take a serious look at her life. “Okay. As soon as I’ve made up my mind, I’ll let you know what I’m doing.”
“Good.” Claire handed her another folder.
“What’s this?”
“A list of all the reasons you should go to Vancouver. You’re not the only one who’s been thinking about it.”
Hannah saw beyond the bravado in her sister’s gaze. If she went to Vancouver, Claire would miss her. But unlike Hannah, her sister wasn’t letting her emotions stand in the way of achieving something she’d always dreamed about.
The Gift (The Protectors Book 6) Page 13