Canvas for Love

by Charlotte Greene

  “Emma? How is she? I mean, besides thinking I’m a monster. Is she okay?”

  Emma’s eyes welled with tears, and she looked away from me, a hand going to her mouth to stifle a sob.

  “She’s bad, Chloé. Really bad. I’ve never seen her like this before. Even after Sara, she wasn’t like this.”

  “What’s wrong? What’s she doing?”

  “She’s not sleeping, she’s not eating. She won’t talk to anyone. All she does is work. She looks awful. On top of everything with you, she’s terrified she’s going to lose the business unless she figures out a way to pay off the loss. She’s thinking of cashing in her inheritance for part of it, but we’ve all been trying to talk her into letting it go—giving up the company, selling out, and doing something different.” She shook her head. “She won’t listen to anyone.”

  “So unless we find the money, she’ll continue to think it’s me, and she’s going to lose her inheritance?”

  Emma nodded.

  I shook my head. “That’s terrible. She shouldn’t give up her money. We have to find out who stole it.”

  Emma nodded, but she didn’t look very hopeful. We were quiet together for a while longer, and then I heard Emma chuckle. I looked over at her and was surprised to see her smiling.

  “What? What’s funny?”

  She was still grinning. “I didn’t tell you the rest of the news.”

  “What is it?”

  “My parents are getting a divorce.”

  “What? Really?”

  She nodded. “After forty years, Ted Winters has had enough. We’ve all been expecting it, in a way, though of course we were still surprised. But they haven’t been happy together in eons—not as long as I can remember, really, and maybe not even then. He hates all her stupid parties and her coldness, and she hates how nice and generous he is with everyone. He told me a couple of weeks ago that he’d caught himself drinking just to get through an evening alone with her, and he knew he had to end it, right then and there. He put down his glass of scotch, marched into the living room, and told her he wanted a divorce.”

  “Wow. That’s incredible.”

  Emma grinned. “He’s been staying at my place while they get the process started. So between my sister falling apart and my mother’s screaming phone calls to my dad on the hour, every hour, I feel like I’m living in a nuthouse.”

  I leaned forward and gave her a hug. “Christ, Emma, that’s a lot to take on. Are you okay?”

  “Do I look okay to you?”

  I laughed. “No. You look like shit.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “You could stay here tonight. I mean, if you want a break.”

  Her eyes lit up. “Really? Do you mean it?”

  “Of course! In fact, stay as long as you want.”

  “Oh man, Chloé, even one night would be a godsend. Thank you.”

  “Sure. Let me go get you some pj’s.”

  I stood up and she grabbed my wrist. “Chloé? I’m sorry. I mean, I’m sorry I ever doubted you, and I’m sorry my sister is treating you so badly.”

  I frowned and shook my head. “Thanks for saying that, Emma, but there’s nothing to apologize for. I don’t like it, but I can finally see where she’s coming from. And you’re right—all of this would have been cleared up with a simple conversation. Neither one of us trusted the other one—that’s the problem.”

  “You’re a good person, Chloé. I wish my sister was smart enough to remember that.”

  I couldn’t help but wish that, too, but as I made my way up the stairs, I also couldn’t help but feel angry with myself and with Amelia. We’d done this to ourselves, and it was going to be next to impossible for us to dig our way out of the fallout. Now that I knew the truth, however, for the first time I was starting to think that I could try to win her back. I couldn’t let things rest the way they were now. More than simply wanting to clear my name, I did once love her, and I still loved her.

  I went to my dresser to search for an extra set of pj’s, but my eyes rested on the little black box I’d hidden in my dresser drawer. It had ridden around in my purse for a while until I took it out, sick of thinking about it every time I looked at it. I held the box in my hand for a long moment, nerving myself to open it. Finally, I took a long, deep breath through my nose, let it out, and cracked open the little case.

  The ring held a large, dark, cobalt sapphire surrounded by smaller diamonds, all three stones in a princess cut. The band was white gold, and when I slipped it onto my finger, it fit perfectly.

  I didn’t realize I was crying until I saw a teardrop splash onto the back of my left hand.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The next day was Saturday, but I was determined to act on the new information immediately rather than wait until Monday. I called my third cousin Derek, a police officer, and told him the story of the stolen money. I wanted his advice about where to begin and was sure I could trust him not to make anything official unless I asked him to act on it. When I finished, providing just enough details for him to grasp the dilemma without getting too far into the related drama, he whistled, long and low.

  “Wow, that’s a real pickle, Chloé. The cop in me, however, would tell you to look to the most obvious cause of all of this: the person who’s done it before. You say this Sara woman—the one who attacked you—did this a couple of years ago?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then it’s not a stretch to think she’s done it again.”

  This was exactly what I was thinking, and I was glad to hear he’d made that leap as well. “But how? She had to get into the warehouse to do anything. The first transaction happened there.”

  He was quiet for a moment. “Yes, but maybe it wasn’t her, exactly. Someone would have seen her and recognized her, right? She used to work there, so she couldn’t risk going herself. Maybe she sent someone to do it for her. Paid them or something.”

  “But the whole staff has been cleared. The investigators checked everyone.”

  “Well, there’s no police record of the theft, Chloé, so I don’t know how thorough they were. Why didn’t Amelia call the police?”

  The last time this had happened, Amelia had kept the truth from the police and the press as much as possible. There were likely several reasons for this, partly business and partly personal. No company wants to appear vulnerable to theft. It makes a bad impression, and Amelia probably wanted to give Sara a break one last time. I gave Derek a quick run-through of what I knew.

  “Well, I’ll tell you this, Chloé: without involving the police, she’ll never get to the bottom of this. You can be the best PI in the business, but even then you still need to ask the police for help most of the time. I’m sure she has the dough to hire the best, but in this case, with that kind of money on the line, she really needs to get the law involved. Maybe even the feds.”

  I sighed. “Well, I can try. Maybe I can get her sister to talk to her and she’ll see reason.” I paused. “Would you be involved in the investigation? I mean, if her sister can talk her into it?”

  “No. I’m afraid not. That sort of thing’s not in my wheelhouse. But we do have a great money guy here in the department. He used to work for the FBI. I bet you anything he could find that money, or at least the person who stole it.”

  We spent a couple more minutes catching up on family news, and he promised to call me back if he heard anything about the case. I’d used the phone in my bedroom, and when I went downstairs, Emma was still asleep on the couch. She didn’t stir a hair as I walked by. I set the water boiling for coffee and poked around in my kitchen looking for something to make for breakfast. I still had some of the homemade strawberry jam my aunt had brought the last time she visited and part of a day-old baguette. I cut the bread in half and toasted it, smeared on some jam, and then washed the rest of my grapes. I poured coffee concentrate into two wide mugs and then topped it off with water, milk, and sugar, making it sweet and creamy. By the time I carried all this out into the
living room, Emma was up. She’d already folded her blanket and pillow, and when she turned toward me, she looked a million times better for her restful night.

  She greeted me, and then she cursed when she glanced at her watch. “Oh, crap.”

  “What?”

  “I slept too late. I was supposed to…” She threw me a quick, guilty look.

  “Supposed to what?”

  She hesitated, clearly nervous. “Amelia and I were going to meet up for breakfast this morning. She probably called me earlier, but I turned off my phone last night.” She looked at the breakfast I’d made for her and shrugged. “Oh well. I’ll call her later and apologize. I could use a morning off from her shit.”

  She began eating, but my appetite had dried up. The idea that Amelia was out there waiting for Emma made my heart hurt. Ever since we broke up, I tried not to think about what she was doing, not in a concrete way at any rate. It was bad enough to remember how we’d been together for small, seemingly insignificant moments in the past. I didn’t like to picture her now, in the real world, living without me, moving on with her life, and making breakfast plans without me. I could envision her now, probably annoyed with Emma and out of sorts, sitting in her giant dining room by herself, waiting for Emma to call. The vision was so clear in my mind I could have reached out and touched her.

  Emma finally noticed my stillness and paused, her toast hovering over her coffee. “Are you okay? You look funny somehow.”

  I shook my head. “I’m okay. Just felt someone walk over my grave.”

  I hadn’t picked up my toast yet, but I was clutching my coffee, and I suddenly saw Emma’s eyes go wide when she spotted the ring. “What the hell is that?” She gestured with her toast.

  I’d kept the ring on all night, and it already felt natural on my hand. I stared down at it, my stomach dropping with the dread of everything it represented: loss, pain, broken bonds. I shouldn’t be wearing it. I should have sent it back to Amelia long ago, but now, after everything I’d learned last night, I wanted to wear it. It represented pain and loss, but it also seemed to represent something else to me now: hope.

  “It’s a ring,” I said, stupidly.

  “I can see that, dummy. I mean…” She paused, her face draining of color. “Did Amelia give that to you?”

  I’d left out that part of my story last night. I hadn’t told my aunt or Meghan about it either, and I didn’t want to tell Emma about it now. It was too painful. All I could do was nod, and my eyes welled up with tears. Emma set her breakfast down and got up, took my mug from me, set it down, and pulled me to my feet for a hug. When she stepped back, her eyes were teary too, but she was smiling.

  “Why do you look so happy?” I asked.

  “Because you’re going to be my sister-in-law! I kept hoping it was going to happen. I knew from the moment I met you that the two of you were meant to be together. I’ve never seen her as happy as she is when she’s with you.”

  I had to laugh. “But we’ve broken up, Emma. She didn’t even propose.”

  She looked confused for a moment, then shook her head. “But she bought the ring for you, so she was planning to propose, right?”

  After a moment, I nodded.

  Emma smiled again. “So that’s enough for me. Once we get this straightened out, you two will be engaged.”

  I couldn’t help but feel a little thrill of excitement and warmth at the idea, but I quickly suppressed it. I had still had a lot of work to accomplish before Amelia and I could have another chance. Even if she realized I didn’t take the money, she didn’t trust me. She thought I’d done it. And, if I was honest with myself, I hadn’t trusted her, either. Even beyond this current dilemma, we had some major obstacles to conquer before we could move on and consider something like an engagement.

  Emma seemed to sense my reluctance and hugged me again. “Don’t lose hope, Chloé. We’re going to figure this out. I don’t know if it was getting a good night’s sleep or having a night away from my family, but I feel so much better this morning. I think we can do this together, if we try.”

  I told her about my discussion with my cousin, and when I was finished, she nodded. “I agree with you and with him. I’ve been trying to get her to go to the police since I found out about the money, but maybe I need to figure out a way to insist. I’ll talk to her later today and make her call them. I promise.”

  “Are you going to tell her you talked to me?” My heart started pounding, though I didn’t know why. Something about the prospect scared me, deeply.

  “Do you want me to?”

  I hesitated and then shook my head. “No. Not yet. She might turn against you if she thinks you’re colluding with me.”

  She nodded. “That’s what I think. I’ll keep it hush-hush for now. Then, when we have some proof of your innocence, I’ll let her in on the secret—tell her it was your idea. Maybe it will be enough to get you past this.”

  Emma went upstairs to take a shower, and I put her smelly clothes in with mine in my tiny, European-style washer-dryer. I started it when I heard the water upstairs stop running. She’s a little shorter than I am, but we have a similar build, so I was about to go upstairs to find her some clothes to borrow when I heard someone knock. Confused, I moved the little curtain that covered the window on my front door and was horrified to see my aunt and Meghan waiting outside. They both waved and hallooed when they spotted me, and I had to open the door.

  “Hey, girly!” Aunt Kate said, holding up a grocery bag and stepping inside. “We knew your kitchen was probably bone-dry, so we thought we’d bring some food. Then we thought we might help you eat some of it while we were at it.”

  Meghan followed her in, giving me a brief hug. “I knew you’d bail on me last night, but I was so glad you came for a little while. I couldn’t believe it when I saw you there.”

  I was still stunned to see them and desperately trying to think of a reason to get them to leave.

  Aunt Kate noticed my reluctance and nervousness, and she put her hand on my forehead. “Are you feeling okay? You look funny. Not sick exactly, but…”

  “Guilty, maybe?” Meghan said.

  Kate and I turned to her, and Meghan pointed at the two mugs and two plates on my coffee table. It was obvious that someone else was here, and as it was still fairly early in the morning, it was obvious that someone had stayed over. As if on cue, all three of us heard the bathroom door upstairs open, and Meghan’s face turned a startling shade of dark red.

  “I’m going to kill her,” she said, and moved toward the stairs as if to do just that. She stopped moving when Emma appeared at the top of the stairs, clad in my bathrobe. She was drying her hair with a towel, so she didn’t see my two guests.

  “Hey, Chloé?” she called, her voice muffled by the towel. “Where did you put my clothes?” She stopped drying her hair and looked down at the tableau below her. All three of us were staring up at her, and she blanched.

  Aunt Kate and Meghan turned toward me slowly, their eyes wide with disbelief. I was about to explain, but then I started to laugh. This was too ridiculous for words. From their expressions, it was obvious what they thought had happened, and the gap between their understanding and the reality of the situation seemed unbelievably funny. I continued to laugh for several seconds, during which my aunt’s face changed from surprise to anger, which made me laugh even harder.

  “I’m glad to know you think this is funny, young lady, but I fail to find the humor in this,” Kate said. “I mean, she’s certainly a pretty girl, but why on earth would you get involved with that family again?”

  Now my giggles verged on hysterics. Kate and Meghan shared a concerned look, and I bent double, clutching my stomach. They both took a wary step away, as if I might suddenly lose it, and a moment later, I was on the floor, laughing so hard I was crying.

  An awkward conversation followed my hysterical laughter, even more awkward because Emma was in my bathrobe the whole time we talked. Once the initial situation was cl
eared up, I worked very hard to convince my aunt and Meghan to listen to her. They both distrusted her, and I had to coax and beg them to be open to hearing the truth. As Emma told them the story of Amelia’s past, I slipped the ring off my finger and hid it in my pocket. It wouldn’t do to make things more complicated right now. I would carry it with me until I could wear it openly, and until then, it would have to stay a secret between me and Emma.

  As Emma talked, I watched Aunt Kate and Meghan’s faces. Kate was the first one to crack. Her anger dropped away, replaced with guilt and pain. The entire time I’d been with Amelia, she’d judged the poor woman based on an incomplete understanding of what had happened between her and Sara. Now that she was learning the truth, she could see the injustice of her attitude.

  Meghan was a harder nut to crack. Even after Emma finished her story, she remained stony-faced, looking at Emma with seeming disgust.

  Meghan shook her head. “Look, I can sort of see why your sister might think Chloé stole the money—I mean, yes, the coincidence is hard to ignore—but why didn’t she just ask her? Why assume?”

  Emma shrugged. “I don’t know. If I had to guess, though, I think she’s so hurt she isn’t seeing straight.”

  Meghan gestured at me. “But to accuse Chloé, her supposed girlfriend, of embezzlement? With no proof? I mean, what does that say about her?” She looked at me. “Are you okay with that? And why did she lie about Sara to begin with? Why not just tell you about her?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know. I have to believe she has her reasons about Sara, and for lying. But no, I don’t like that she thinks I stole the money. It’s awful, really.”

  Meghan look satisfied, but she still wasn’t happy. “But you want to prove your innocence? Why? So you can get her back? She doesn’t deserve you, Chloé.”

  Aunt Kate broke in. “I want to apologize for how I treated Amelia, Chloé, and you, too, Emma. I’d tell her the same thing if she were here. But I have to agree with Meghan, at least in part. I don’t know whether she deserves you, Chloé. My own prejudice blinded me, I think, to who she really is. But Meghan is right—she doesn’t trust you, and she lied to you. You can’t build a relationship without trust, honey. It just doesn’t work that way.”