After finishing their plates, Mitch and Amelia hit the dance floor, where they stayed for the next two hours. There was something about Amelia that fascinated me, and I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.
“Would you like to dance?” Tim asked, standing next to me with his hand extended. Ryan, who was sitting across from us, casually observed Tim’s invitation. The way his eyes lingered on me made me nervous somehow.
I rose, and we joined Amelia and Mitch on the floor. “Seems like old times,” Tim whispered.
“Sure does.” It had been a while since a man hit on me, and I wasn’t sure if I was recognizing the signs. Was that what Tim was doing now?
“You know, you were my first kiss,” he continued to whisper.
“Was I?”
“Sure. I was so nervous. How about you?”
He peered into my face, but my attention was on Amelia and Mitch. I could feel myself slipping into another world, one that was dark, cold, and wet.
“Gabby?” Tim turned around to see where I was staring. “You’re brother will be fine with Amelia. She’s a sweet girl.”
He thought I was worried about Mitch. I wasn’t, and then again I was. I shook the thoughts out of my head. “What were you saying?”
He pulled me close, and his lips touched my ear as he spoke. “Our shared kiss. Was I the first boy you ever kissed?”
“I …” Amelia and Mitch stopped dancing and then returning to the table, she laughed and grabbed her purse. They left the party, arms around each other. I had no doubt what was going to happen next.
Tim continued to stare at me until I answered, “I guess so.”
“You’re not sure?”
“No. I mean, yes, I’m sure. You were my first kiss.”
“I thought as much. I’m so glad you’re back in town, Gabby.”
“Me too,” I answered, and then the chill of my vision started to return, “I think.”
Chapter 4
“So, most of the store is dedicated to kids, but we do have a pretty healthy adult section.” Tim was giving me an impromptu tour of Enchantment, Clarence’s bookstore. “We have children come from miles around to look at our selection. Clarence comes in once a month to read a chapter from one of his books.”
Beanbag chairs in primary colors were scattered about the reading floor as well as a little table and chairs for the children. Giant teddy bears, big enough for children to snuggle into their laps, were in each corner. Small benches and a miniature couch were set out, and the carpet was a cheerful bright blue. Above the bookshelves was a mural of young smiling faces. In the corner was an alcove where older children’s books were kept, and in the back of the store was an assortment of selections for adults. Near the register was a larger circular rug and a rocking chair with royal-blue padding on it. This had to be where Clarence did his monthly reading with the local children. On the edge of the enclosure was a square, old-fashioned popcorn cart.
“That’s for story time,” Tim said, following my gaze. “We figured the kids get popcorn at the movies, so why not at story time?”
“Great idea.” I couldn’t stop my eyes roaming the colorful covers of the books. Enchantment was exactly the right name for this place.
“Where’s your brother today?” Tim leaned over the counter, where his bright-pink tie slid across the glass.
I didn’t want to tell him he was still sleeping, so instead I embellished the truth. “Looking for a job.”
“What kind of job is he looking for?”
“At this point, just about anything.”
“Moving to a small town doesn’t exactly increase your chances in the job market, but I’ll keep an eye out. He sure seemed to like Amelia.”
The phone rang on the counter. Tim held up one finger and then answered. Listening to the caller on the other end, he put his hand over the phone. “I need to take this in the back. Will you be all right for a few minutes?”
“Sure. Gives me a chance to look around,” I answered.
“Excellent.” He passed through the curtain that led to the back room. I walked around the store and immediately laid eyes on the mystery section. I didn’t read enough anymore. The idea of buying a paperback book was almost foreign to me now that I had an e-reader. There was something about the smell of the pages that brought back memories of reading a good mystery or a steamy romance on a rainy afternoon. I picked up a book and held it up to my nose, taking in a breath.
“I hope you’re not into book huffing,” a voice said from behind me. I pulled the paperback away from my nose. A slender woman stood there in a long black skirt, black boots, and a white silk blouse. Her dark hair was pulled up into a French roll, and she was absolutely stunning.
“You caught me. I had forgotten how good books smell.”
“Really? I’ve worn some of the finest perfumes in the world. Never once have I seen one labeled eau de paperback.”
I placed the book back on the shelf, feeling guilty for abusing its safe space by smelling it.
The dark-haired customer glanced around the room. “Where is Tim?”
“In the back on the phone. Do you shop here often?”
“Save it. I’m Tim’s girlfriend, a fact he apparently didn’t share with you,” Darla scowled.
Tim’s voice bellowed from the other room. “Do I hear my sweetie out there?” I wondered how this woman who had just put me in my place felt about being called sweetie? Would she have preferred my love or mi amore? Sweetie felt awfully close to the ultra-corny sweetie pie.
Tim came back through the curtains with a questioning expression on his face. “What brings you to the bookstore so early in the day?”
“If you ever paid attention to our schedule, you’d know that today is the day the cleaning woman comes in. I can’t exactly sleep through that.”
“Sorry if she woke you,” Tim apologized and placed a quick kiss on Darla’s cheek. So this was Tim’s girlfriend. She was a real catch—if you liked to hunt in snake pits.
Darla’s back seemed to go straighter than it already was as she crossed her arms. “She didn’t wake me. That woman didn’t even show up. I’ve been trying to call her cell phone, and she refuses to answer. Was she at the local yokel party last night? The nerve of her sleeping in on our cleaning day of all days. So inconsiderate.”
Tim pressed his lips together. “She was at the party last night. She was dancing with Gabby’s brother.”
“Who’s Gabby, pray tell?”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” He came over and put an arm around me. “This is Gabby Wolfe. We went to school together. She’s just moved back to town.”
Darla gave me a quick look, disregarded me, and then turned her attention back to Tim. “Will you try to call her to reschedule? She seems to respond to you much better than me.”
“Hold on and I’ll call her on my cell.” He exited again to the back room, leaving the two of us in an uncomfortable silence.
I tried to fill the gap with small talk. “Clarence told me you are an artist? I’m here working on illustrations for his book. What kind of art do you do?”
“Landscapes. I paint several canvases and then take them to a gallery in Denver as well as some of the tourist traps around here. People in the city love to have pictures of the mountains in their living rooms. It provides a comfortable income.”
From the looks of the Jimmy Choo’s on her feet, it was very comfortable.
“Do you have any favorite areas to paint? I work mostly with sketching and illustration but …”
“Listen, I would love to stay and chat about your life with Paint by Number, but I have a schedule.” She stormed off, following Tim to the back room. It was like it was Tim’s fault the cleaning lady didn’t show up. I just had to hope Mitch had nothing to do with it. It was evident there was a lot of distrust in their relationship already. That fact seemed to drip down like paint on a canvas. Darla was a beautiful woman who seemingly had nothing to be jealous of, and yet there she was, her insecuritie
s clearly in control. It merely confirmed a fact I had often wondered about in my mind. Even the most glamorous woman in the world wanted to know if the jeans she had on made her look fat.
Chapter 5
After my official tour of Enchantment and the hostile treatment from Darla, I made my exit before the hair pulling started. I had promised Maybelline I would visit her art gallery next door. It was another old converted storefront. When I approached the window, a woman’s face stared out at me with hollow eyes. It was a strange medium that had to have been created with computer graphics. The bright yellow, purple, and red were predominant, and the portrait could have been a poster for a horror film. Maybelline came to lean on the doorframe. She wore a flowing khaki skirt, a crocheted tan sweater, and a cotton plaid blouse. She had her hair pulled up in a messy bun, completing the look of a wise old artist.
“Catches your eye, doesn’t it?”
“It certainly does. How was this created?”
“One of my students made it. She works with computer software to create her art.”
“Tell me it’s not a self-portrait.”
Maybelline laughed. “Heavens no, sugar. Would you like to come in and see our gallery?”
“Uh … sure.” The walls inside displayed art from beginners to intermediate artists. Some of the works had frames, but many were simply canvasses hung on nails.
“Do you remember Mr. Wynn?”
“The science teacher?”
“That’s the one. Keith and I married shortly after you left. We’ve been together ever since. He retired a few years ago and helps me with the management side of all this. You know how we creative types have trouble making the checkbook balance. We run classes here six days a week and most nights. We teach watercolors and oil painting.
“Sounds like you have a busy place here.”
Maybelline led me into another room that served as the school part of the Lake Henry Gallery. There were five painting stations set up for students as well as one in the front for the teacher to demonstrate. There was excellent light falling across the workspace from the ancient windowpanes. The glass structures were as tall as the ceiling.
“People don’t put in windows like this anymore because they’re not energy efficient. What these windows lack in keeping the heat out they make up for in letting the light into the room. What does a painter need? Light. Our workspace is a haven of light.”
The familiar smells of oil paint and turpentine made me feel instantly at home.
“So, not to be indelicate, but I know you’re working for Clarence as an illustrator and renting a house. Last time I checked the rate for a few sketches is probably not enough to survive on. Am I right, or am I right?”
Maybelline’s real motives were coming out like an alligator in a Georgia swamp.
“The reason I’m bringing this up is we’re short a teacher here at the art school. Would you be interested in supplementing that lucrative illustrator income with some measly teacher cash?”
“A teacher?”
“I’m sorry for grabbing you off the street like this and asking, but if Clarence liked you enough to pick you out of all the people who answered his ad, then that’s good enough for me. I would also love to start offering a class in illustrating and sketching.”
I’d spent my life in art classes as a student; I’d never imagined myself as the teacher. The thought of standing up in front of a class full of artists was a little frightening to me. Maybelline must have read my mind.
“Now, now Miss Bambi in the headlights. Don’t you worry. I won’t throw you to the wolves right away. If you think you’re interested, then come and audit a class so you can see how we do things here. Okay?”
Maybelline’s kind words helped to lessen my anxiety. Maybe I could try to teach. Why not?
“So is there even a chance you might be interested?”
Maybelline was right. It was pretty glamorous to be Clarence’s illustrator but not enough to keep Mitch in cereal alone. Picking up an extra job as a teacher might be the thing that would enable me to stay at Lake Henry and out of my mother’s house. “Okay. I’ll come and observe a class. Maybe I’ll try teaching. You’re right—and a little extra income would be a lifesaver.”
Maybelline clapped her hands together, causing her bamboo earrings to bounce. “Excellent! You just tell me what night or afternoon you’d like to observe. Let me get you a copy of the schedule.”
Before I could change my mind, Maybelline returned with a calendar of classes.
“I think this is going to work out for the both of us.”
Looking at the list of classes, I was surprised. She had something going on every afternoon and evening six days a week.
“How many teachers do you have?”
“Right now, it’s me, Marcus, and a lady who teaches Tole Painting on Saturdays. I schedule the classes, and people sign up. We have a reasonable class rate, and they buy their supplies from me. I know it seems like a lot of work for an old school teacher, but I’m building my retirement fund, you know. Can’t paint forever.”
Retirement. That was something I hadn’t even considered. Getting through the month was my only goal. Being around Maybelline might help me think a little more deeply about my future. I glanced around the art studio. It was comfortable with little touches that reflected its owner. There was a wreath over the door and homey sayings hung everywhere. Yes, I could spend some time here.
“I’ll be in touch.”
Chapter 6
When I returned from the bookstore, Mitch was sitting at the kitchen table in a tattered Mario Kart T-shirt and eating eggs and bacon. Luigi, the white-and-brown lump, sat next to him on the floor, just waiting for a single piece of bacon to fall into his mouth. The dirty frying pan still rested on the stove. Mitch followed my disgusted gaze.
“Don’t worry, Mein Capitan. I’ll clean up my dishes.”
“I thought we were saving the eggs and bacon for Saturday and eating cereal during the week. I bought two boxes. That ought to keep you.” I pulled up a chair and sat across from him as he glanced at the cereal boxes on the counter.
“Are they empty?”
“I was hungry when I came in last night. I guess I got a little carried away.”
Here was a man who should have been in his prime, beginning a promising career. Instead, he was still a boy who was pursuing the lifestyle of a first-semester freshman. “So where did you go last night?”
He winked at me. “No details, but you should know I’m seeing her again tonight, and oh what a night it will be.” There was unbridled delight in his eyes. Typical man.
“Great. You found a girl. How about the job search?”
“I’m getting on that right after breakfast. Do you think Clarence might be able to point me toward something? He probably knows a lot of people.”
That was a pretty good idea. Most people who found jobs found them through networking, not want ads. “Okay. Maybe we can ask Maybelline, too. I’m going over to Clarence’s in a little bit. You can follow me in your car.”
There was a black-and-white squad car in the driveway of Clarence’s house when Mitch and I pulled up the circular drive. Here I had the perfect job and, of course, as the fates would have it, something terrible must have happened. I parked and took the stairs two at a time. Mitch parked on my bumper and followed.
Clarence waved us in through the screen door.
“No, Keith, we haven’t seen anything suspicious going on in any of the houses around here.”
Mitch came up behind me, peering in at the scene. “Man, this town rocks.”
A uniformed police officer stood in the center of the room talking to Clarence while Ryan stood next to him, his hands folded behind his back. The officer was in his late fifties with gray hair cut regulation short. His midsection was on the round side. I gathered by Clarence’s use of the officer’s first name that the men knew each other.
“Have there been any new arrivals in the neighborhood?
New neighbors or visitors of neighbors?” the police officer asked.
“Just Gabby and her brother here,” Clarence said. “Let me introduce you.” He turned toward us, catching Mitch and me watching through the screen door. “Come on in off the porch, you two. This is Keith Bennett, our idea of the law up here. He also doubles as the game warden sometimes.”
“Nice to meet you.” The sheriff tipped his hat and then gazed over at Mitch, who stood with his hands in his pockets. Noticing the sheriff’s attention, Mitch said, “If you think I’m some sort of a cat burglar, I’m a little on the hefty side.”
“Well, I don’t see you squeezing through a doggie door anytime soon, but I’ll keep my eye on you.” He smiled, and the kindness in his eyes showed he wasn’t about to arrest anyone.
“Good enough,” Mitch said, nodding his head. We were the newcomers in town, but Mitch had just defused any suspicion. Maybe my little brother did have some life skills after all.
The officer turned back toward me. “And what is the reason for your visit, ma’am?”
“I’m doing the artwork for a book Mr. Bradford’s writing.”
The cop’s eyebrows rose for a moment, and he looked impressed with my career choice. Deep down, many people had a tiny struggling artist dying to get out.
“Welcome to Henry Park. I have three kids and five grandkids. What other books have you illustrated?”
“This is my first,” I admitted.
“It will be the first of many,” Clarence assured the sheriff, backing me up.
“I see,” he flipped his notebook closed. “That should cover it. If you see anything suspicious in the neighborhood, please let us know. With all of these houses for sale and most of them empty, we’re just a little too enticing for Joe Criminal.”
Color Me Dead (Henry Park Book 1) Page 3