God, she loved his enthusiasm. Becca laughed and whispered back, "No it doesn't."
Hunter was about to protest when she kissed his cheek. "It screams 'Rebecca Beckman'."
Hunter's eyes lit up. "Now that's the way to think." His lips grazed her cheek gently, like a butterfly's wings.
"This place is beautiful. Intimidating, though." She gestured at the walls with various paintings and photographs.
"Well hello! This is a surprise!" Brock ambled out of a room from the back, eagerly approaching them. "What brings you by?"
"My fiancé's spontaneous streak strikes again. We had a little time before friends come in for Thanksgiving, so he surprised me with a trip over here. Your gallery is amazing," Becca gushed.
"Thank you. It's one of my pride and joys. And," he pointed at the blank wall, "I agree with you. The wall is begging for your work. Since this is spur of the moment, you wouldn't happen to have anything with you then?"
"No," Becca replied, still taking this all in.
"Didn't think so, and that's okay. I've seen plenty of your stuff. What I'm thinking is an art show. I'll help you through this every step of the way." Brock gestured toward a black leather couch on the far end of the room. "Why don't we sit and chat about this for a bit?"
Nodding, she and Hunter followed him, Becca still in awe of this whole thing. Brock folded his hands and leaned forward, setting his intense gaze on her when they were all comfortable.
"I want to get an art show in for you as soon as possible. But that's going to depend on so many things. There's the holidays, and then there's personal things on both ends, as I know you two have stuff going on. Obviously I do as well, which is how we met. So for the meantime, I'd like to at least showcase two or three pieces to start off with. Is everything one of a kind?"
Becca nodded. "It is." Could she ever recreate a piece the same way as the original? She'd never tried it. She was a mood painter, obviously.
Brock's gaze moved to Hunter. "How attached are you to some of the pieces you've displayed in the Lange Center?"
Hunter laughed. "Hard to say. Anything from Becca, I'm attached to. If you're asking what I think you are, I'll part with the ones from the center, because the paintings I have the most sentimental attachment to are at home and will stay there. She's been filling my walls with paintings for years." He leaned over to kiss her cheek, smiling affectionately.
Her heart skipped a few beats. This was happening. Brock meant business! He wanted her work. She knew she had nothing to worry about. Brock wasn't going to be like the teacher from her past. This could happen!
"Yes, I was thinking of a few from the center to display and sell here. Give me a second and I'll pull out some papers- including a projected contract, that you two can look over." Brock shot to his feet and moved away to another room.
"Is this really happening?" Becca whispered, completely in awe.
"My favorite artist is about to become famous? Yep. You know I'm going to play the I told you so game for a while." Hunter smirked playfully, then hugged her. His eyes sparkled with love. "Seriously though, I'm so excited! An art show! Good things are coming, Bec. We just have to get through some of the hard stuff, too." Hunter jiggled a dance in his seat. "I'm marrying someone famous. I'm marrying someone famous," he chanted in a sing-song voice.
Laughter escaped Becca's lips when Hunter continued to dance and sing as Brock came back into the room. The sound of his laughter stopped Hunter short. Becca couldn't quit giggling! Hunter didn't embarrass easily, but for some reason he was today.
"Love the enthusiasm." Brock winked as he slid some papers across the table. "When's the wedding? I'll do my best to make her famous before you get married."
Becca snorted when Hunter's face turned red. "That's what you get for pulling the 'I told you so' on me." She nudged him, then turned to Brock. "We're getting married in March."
"Oh good! We have some time then." His smile was genuine.
Becca picked up the papers and studied them. When her gaze landed on a number with way too many zeros behind them, she gasped. "I think there might be a mistake there," she pointed.
"Oh no. Well, the numbers will vary depending on the piece, but that's what I'm thinking for the few I've seen. Is it too low?"
"Low?" Becca sputtered. He had to be kidding, but he sure looked serious. "No! It's high! I can't imagine someone spending that kind of money on a painting!" Let alone hers!
"Let me see," Hunter gently eased the papers from her hands. "Holy-" So the numbers even surprised him. She wasn't the only one then. Good.
Brock laughed. "It's most definitely not too high. Why don't you two go over the information and, if you're interested in selling some pieces here, then sign the contract and we'll go from there. You don't have to decide today. In fact, we'll still get together next week after the holidays. I'll be at the Lange Center, and I can tell you which pieces that I'm interested in. If you could also bring some you don't mind parting with, or anything new. I don't feel that my terms are bad, but you're more than welcome to see what other galleries offer as a comparison."
"This looks good to me, but we'll definitely talk it over." Hunter bowed his head, busy looking over Becca's papers. He was better at this stuff, so she let him go over it.
The bell jingled. Brock stood again, brushed his off his black slacks, and went to speak with the newcomer.
"Hunter, those numbers..." Becca fidgeted.
"Are amazing," he replied, setting the papers in his lap. "Let's go see what the others here are being offered for." Beautiful eyes stared back at her, full of wonder, mirroring what she felt right now. Becca stood at the same time Hunter did. He held the papers in his left hand and reached for Becca's hand with his other. In silence, they moved around the gallery to view the other paintings. Brock spoke quietly with the other person a few feet away.
"I never knew paintings could go this high," Becca thought her eyes were going to pop out of her head from the prices. She couldn't help but be stunned. Such a wide variety of talent and passions, too. Landscapes, portraits, abstract, and more!
"Neither did I. I mean to me, yours are all priceless, but these numbers blow my mind," Hunter admitted.
Fifteen minutes later, they left the gallery with Becca still in awe. Hunter was right. Good things were coming. There was always an end to the storm.
Chapter Fourteen
On Thanksgiving morning, the snow started up again. Nothing major, at least as of yet, but large flakes drifted to the ground from the sky. Inside, the Beckman household was full of excitement as friends gathered around for dinner. Or a late lunch, more accurately.
"I have to say, I'm surprised with Becca's mood," Joe said from beside Hunter in the kitchen as he checked the turkey.
"I know. She's been back and forth. Becca's always put on a brave face, no matter what. It's the way her grandparents raised ... more like forced her to be. Some days she cries and struggles over what happened. Other days, she acts like it didn't. I think we hit a breakthrough over the weekend, though." He closed the oven, then put the mitts down on the counter. Hunter hadn't filled Joe in on the strange texts and events of the last few weeks, considering how much he couldn't trust him. He hated second guessing someone so close to his family, but he hadn't seen Joe in years before this and didn't know what he had to do with anything. It hurt.
"So, I got this strange text the other day." Joe stared in the direction of the door. They were the only two in the kitchen. Sounds of laughter drifted through the house as Sienna and Jade played together. Beverly, Todd, and Eva were setting things up in the dining room. Becca, Rissi, and Shara were in the living room with Joe's wife. He handed Hunter his phone.
Alertness slammed him. A text? Like the same type he and Becca were getting? Hunter took the phone from Joe's hands. Sure enough, it was.
Your sins will always haunt you. Nathan may be dead, but what you did to his family will always be with you.
"One, what the hell does this
mean, and two, considering who this involves, why didn't you tell me this before?" Hunter's anger surged. He tried to keep his voice calm. The whole house didn't need to hear all of this conversation.
"At first, I didn't know what it meant. I thought it had to do with that night, which it does, but..." Joe scratched the top of his balding head. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, then took a step back. "I finally figured out who Nathan is."
Hunter crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for Joe to answer. "Go on..."
"Maybe we should do this later, when you don't have a house full of people?" Joe gestured.
"No. You started this now, so we're going to finish it now," Hunter growled. And give Joe time to back out and not tell him? Hell no.
Joe grimaced. "Nathan Canter is the son of the pilot on the plane that carried your families."
The words echoed inside his brain, then it registered. Whoa. Just whoa. He did not expect that one, not at all. But it didn't make sense, not really. "So ... why did he go after you?"
Joe averted his gaze. "When the Langes approached me to take the case for a suit, his family lost everything."
"So he wanted to make you pay for suing his family all those years ago?" Hunter's voice rose. His whole body shook with anger and frustration. Muscles spasmed. Damn, he needed to calm down somehow. "That makes no sense. Why now?"
"That one I don't have an answer to, let alone how he found me, in Maryland of all places." Joe let out a long sigh.
"And it still doesn't explain who's sending all these texts." Nathan was dead. So how did someone know about him and his connection. "What grounds did you have to sue?"
"Wrongful death."
Hunter shook his head. The Langes really went all the way, didn't they? Just to appease Sylvia, or was there more to it? "I don't get how the pilot could be at fault for it, though. From what I heard, it was the storm that caused the crash." Not that he had any proof, at least that Hunter knew of, but in his nightmares they were hit by lightning. Was there more to this, too?
Joe grunted. "The pilot had been suspended. He wasn't supposed to be flying that plane. Didn't help that he'd been drinking right before the flight. Someone came forward during the suit and confirmed it with photos."
Hunter choked back a cry. "You're serious? Damn! Why didn't I ever know this in the first place?" If this was true, then the reason for their senseless crash had been because of a drunk pilot. Oh hell!
"It gets worse. Whoever discovered these facts also found out about the money."
"So? Becca and I have nothing to do with it, other then being pulled through the drama."
Joe muttered at first. Hunter barely heard him. "To keep it hidden, you and Becca got the settlement you were supposed to. But because Sylvia wanted her share, and there was no way to do it without letting someone in on the secret ... well, I paid her price out of my own money. Or some of mine, anyway. I ... I took out a lot of it from the firm's share." Joe paled again, and Hunter feared he'd have a another heart attack. "She had plenty of leverage on everyone. My family, yours, the Langes, Vince ... I don't know how she learned some of what she did in those years after the crash, but Sylvia meant business."
Blood drained from his face. Hunter staggered back, taking this in. "You paid her- that was millions!"
"Well, she didn't know the exact amount. You and Becca received far more. It brought the company down, and they went bankrupt. I paid a big deposit to Sylvia, with an allowance every month for the past fifteen or so years. I stopped two years ago. I wonder if she came out of her silence because of that."
Hunter shook his head in disbelief. Blood roared like thunder in his ears. "How the hell did you have that kind of money? I just thought ... I don't even know. Hell, that's not even the most important part. Did you or Becca's grandparents know this would bankrupt that company? I mean, the pilot shouldn't have been flying if he was suspended and drinking, but..." Reckless. So damn reckless! The storm, the drinking. If that pilot had been paying better attention, maybe his family and Becca's would still be alive.
"The money that my firm was awarded for winning the suit went to Sylvia," Joe repeated.
The realization of what Joe just said hit him hard and fast. Heat filled the room, making it hard to breathe. So this was why Joe didn't want this out in the open. He stole money from his own firm to pay someone off. Damn good reason to want to keep people silent!
"Excuse me for a minute. I just need some air." Hunter bolted, ignoring Joe's pleas, and headed outside. It was bitter cold, but it felt so much better than the sweltering kitchen. Between the oven and the horrid, painful feeling swarming inside his body, he plopped down on the steps leading to the backyard, cradled his head in his hands, and tried to make sense of what was just said.
The door behind him opened. Hunter whirled around, expecting to see Joe and preparing to tell him to go away for a minute. Becca stood there, hesitant. She approached cautiously. "What's wrong?" Her voice was soft and low as she crouched down to sit. Loving arms surrounded him.
"Joe-" His voice was strangled. Hunter sighed. "He just-" Fuck, he couldn't even get it out.
"Hunter, what?" Becca drew him closer. "You're scaring me."
He sucked in a deep, ragged breath. "Sorry. I'm really ... I'm stunned. Upset. Joe showed me a text, pretty similar to what we've been getting. This one said 'Your sins will always haunt you. Nathan may be dead, but what you did to his family will always be with you.'"
Becca reeled back, her jaw dropping.
"It gets worse, angel."
"How much worse could it get?"
God, he didn't want to tell her this. But he had to. "When your grandparents sued the private airline, they brought the whole company down. They went bankrupt."
Her skin went almost as white as the fallen snow. Hunter clutched her hand.
"I hate all of this, but from what Joe said, the pilot wasn't supposed to be flying. He'd been suspended, and he'd been drinking beforehand."
"So what you're saying is our plane crashed because of rash behavior?" Her voice came out in a squeak. "The pilot wasn't ... Oh my-"
"It's at least a possibility. There was a storm that night. I don't have to rely on my flashbacks to know that. Nathan is the son of..." Did he say pilot, or was he related to someone from the company? Hunter wasn't too sure now. "And then when we got the settlement, to hide things even more, Joe's been paying Sylvia off from his own money, and recently stopped. He made a big withdrawl from the money supposed to go to his firm. I knew he had something big to hide. I just didn't know this was the reason."
"Could that be why she decided to go after us all of a sudden?" Becca wondered, huddling close to Hunter.
"That might be. I've been wondering what brought her out over the summer." The need for Sylvia to be found intensified. Dead or alive, they needed to know and put it to rest.
*****
Dinner was intense. Becca sat across the table from Joe, and she could barely look at the man without her anger rising to the surface like a raging volcano. He could have told them these things so much sooner than he had. Maybe he forgot about the name Nathan, or never knew about him, but he'd never given out the information about the money and the repercussions of how that happened. She'd known something was off about him all along! This man kept hiding things from them. He'd paid Sylvia off with stolen money? How did his firm never figure it out? Okay, maybe he'd been protecting Hunter and her from the psycho woman, but that was years ago! He could have told them!
So this first Thanksgiving with her fiancé, a day she and Hunter planned to make as nice and peaceful as possible, was ruined. Whether either said anything to Joe now or not, their minds were plagued with guilt, anger, sadness, and so much more. Pieces of the past were coming together, and the truth was heartbreaking.
Rissi and Shara both asked her if something was wrong repeatedly. Becca told them she was a little tired, and considering how the last week went, they believed it.
"T
urkey came out good." Joe smiled between bites. "Takes a lot of practice to make it not dry."
Becca held back a retort. She gripped her fork as the edges of it dug into her hand. Sure, act normal. Pretend like you didn't just shake up our world.
His wife scowled, then nudged him. "What are you saying, old man?"
"I'm saying I need to take lessons from you lovely ladies," he shot back, smiling at Sandra, then at Becca.
She took another bite and glared at him. Joe sensed her feelings and bowed his head, avoiding her eyes. Silverware clanked against fine china. Hushed voices filled the room. Did everyone sense the tension?
"So, when do I need to take vacation time for an art show debut?" Rissi chimed in, breaking the silence again. Good ol' Rissi, trying to lighten the mood. Her best friend knew when something was off with Becca. She'd become very in tune with her moods and knew exactly what to do.
"I'll let you know next week," Becca informed her friend, grateful for the support. Still, her heart wasn't into the conversations right now. She kept thinking about how her grandmother was right. Dredging up the past caused so much pain. They had to relive every emotion again because of the secrets that came to light. They couldn't turn back the time and erase what they'd learned. Now they were in the midst of all the secrets, and Becca had no idea how much more they were going to uncover.
How did they deal with that now? How does one live with two painful decisions? Bring a company down, even though they were at fault, or suffer at the hands of one woman's psychotic episodes to ensure no one rested easily. Becca tried to picture herself in Joe's shoes. What would she have done?
No good answer came to mind.
This same strained silence went on. Becca stared at her plate of food as the taste of everything seemed bland. Joe and his wife laughed over something, and Becca snapped.
A Forever Masterpiece (The Masterpiece Trilogy Book 3) Page 13