by Tina Michele
“Emily Jean Grayson was Giles Grayson’s sister. She and her daughter died during childbirth when he was eighteen. They were very close, and I don’t think he ever got over it.” Belle stared at the painting.
“Oh, man.” Tara could feel the emotion in Belle’s voice as she spoke of him.
“His sister was an artist and she adored Van Gogh. This was the first painting he ever acquired, not long after she died. He always said that she was as beautiful as the yellow in those flowers and brighter than the sun. It was because of her that he called it his sunshine collection.”
Tara hung on every word Belle spoke. “Then she must’ve been truly beautiful.”
“He’s the reason I’m here,” Belle said.
Tara didn’t quite understand what she meant. “Was he your grandfather?”
“No. He was my savior. And before he died I promised him that I would care for this painting, and all the others, the same way he did.”
Tara thought she now understood the reason behind her fierce passion for art, and Belle continued.
“I was sixteen when I met Giles. Here, in this room. It was different then. The Monet painting from the other room hung where this one is now. I was searching for my place in the world, and this was where I felt safe. For five years, he taught me everything he knew about art, life, and family. Things that, at sixteen, I didn’t know the first thing about. When he died he left me the money to go to college with the promise that I would continue my education in art and return here to look after his collection.”
Belle’s story hung heavy on Tara’s heart. There were gaps that Belle left out, but Tara could only imagine the pain that filled in those spaces in her life. “I am so sorry.”
Belle looked at Tara and tears hung in her eyes. She struggled to absorb the information that Belle had just shared with her. As much as she fought against the consuming love and influence of her family, Tara couldn’t fathom her life without them.
Belle wiped her eyes and cleared her throat to compose herself. She smiled and shrugged. “I have no idea why I told you all of that. I guess I just wanted you to understand why…who I am. Not that you wanted to know.” Belle was unnerved by her unsolicited honesty.
“I’m glad you told me. It’s what makes you, well, you. And I want to know.” Tara reached out and covered Belle’s hand with her own. Now Tara truly understood, and she yearned to know so much more. “We should go. Scott will be—” As if on cue, Tara’s radio crackled to life and Scott announced the shift change. They laughed at the coincidence as Tara helped Belle back into the wheelchair and pushed her back to the front of the museum. Tara and Scott debriefed the third shift guards and logged out.
Tara gathered her things as Belle waited in her chair. With Belle in a wheelchair, Tara challenged Scott to a race to the staff corridor and he accepted. After a countdown, the three of them sped down the hallway as Belle screamed. Tara pulled back at the last minute to keep from crashing into the door, and Scott finished first. Belle teased Tara for letting him win, and the three of them cackled with joy.
They left the chair in the hallway. Scott and Tara each took one of Belle’s arms over their shoulder and carried her out of the building. They all looked around for anything or anyone suspicious. Content with their observations, they headed to the garage. Tara insisted on being used as a supporting structure even after Belle refused to be carried any farther. Tara enjoyed the closeness that Belle’s unfortunate injury allowed. They said good-bye to Scott and left him at his truck before they continued on to Belle’s car.
When they reached the vehicle, Tara was reluctant to release her, but had to in order for Belle to retrieve her keys. Tara opened the door, helped Belle into the vehicle, and closed the door between them. Tara tapped on the roof and stepped away for Belle to pull out.
Belle rolled down the window and called Tara over. “Hey. I just wanted to thank you again, for everything.”
Tara leaned onto the door. “You’re welcome. We should do it again.”
“Uh.”
“Without the hooded creepers, of course.”
“Right. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Belle began to roll the window up, but stopped when Tara put her hand on it. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing at all.” Tara didn’t know what had come over her, but she couldn’t let Belle leave yet. She leaned into the car and placed her hand on Belle’s cheek. “I’m glad you’re okay.” Before Belle could speak, Tara pulled her in and kissed her on the lips. It was a simple kiss, but Tara’s heart raced, and she knew that she shouldn’t have done it. She pulled back out of the window and stepped away from the car. “Have a good night, Belle.”
Belle touched her lips. “Yeah, you too,” she said before she pulled out of the spot and drove away.
Tara made sure Belle was gone before she cursed at herself for kissing her. “What the hell, Tara?” She slapped her hands onto her head and walked to her Jeep.
*
Roz stood in a room filled with hundreds of people as they milled about around him making idle small talk and dishing out backhanded compliments. Everybody who was anybody in the up-and-coming modern art world was at Art Basel, and then there was him. He was invisible in the world that he wanted so desperately to be a part of. Roz meandered in and out of the exhibits like a fly on the wall and watched with jealousy as men and women made million-dollar deals on a chance that their investment would produce substantial returns.
As a fine art graduate, Roz had the eye for the job. He also had a salesman’s attitude and tenacity. What he didn’t have was a way into the world he knew he belonged in. He perused the displays with purpose and a confident appearance when he felt someone watching him. Roz looked around the room when he spotted a tall middle-aged man staring at him. The man was attractive and suave, and Roz couldn’t resist returning a smile from across the room.
He turned his attention away and back to the art that hung before him. He stared at it blindly as his mind flashed back to the man whose eyes he could still feel upon him. He read the placard over and over, never retaining the artist’s name or title of the piece.
A soft, low voice spoke behind him and his heart raced. “I’m not much into modern art myself. Can I ask what has you so captivated with this one?”
Roz replied without looking at him. “I’m not sure. To be honest, I don’t understand what people see in most of this stuff either. I prefer the classics and masters.” Roz dared to look at the man who spoke with rumbling smoothness. His eyes were the color of steel but far from cold.
“I’m Giles Grayson,” he said as he held out his hand to Roz.
His name flowed from his lips and lingered in his ears. Roz could hear him say it a thousand times and never grow tired of such a perfect name. “I’m—”
“Roz?”
Roz heard his name, but it wasn’t his voice. As he drifted from his dream, he heard Pete call him again. His blood boiled, but he wasn’t sure if it was the dream or being woken. “What?” he asked as he flung himself forward in his chair. He looked around the men for someone who wasn’t there. “Where is she?”
“Well, you see…”
Roz stood up behind his desk and leaned forward over it. He moved with calculated leisure as his temper flared inside his gut. “No. I don’t see. Because if I did see, I would see that stupid little bitch bound and gagged behind you. Do you see?”
“We…she…” Jesse stammered.
Roz raised his arms and then slammed his hands down onto his desk. “She what?” His temper boiled up from deep in his chest to the top of his head.
“She got away,” Jesse answered while Pete stood silent and reserved.
Roz took a deep breath and held it for several long seconds before he exhaled loudly. “Okay. No problem. There’s always next time.” He moved around from behind his desk and smiled as he slithered up to a nervous Jesse.
“Really?”
Roz’s hand shot out and clutched at Jesse’s neck. “No, not really
, you fucking moron.”
Jesse pulled at Roz’s hand as his face turned red and he tried to speak. When Roz let him go, Jesse sputtered and gasped for breath as he turned toward Pete.
“What did I tell you about letting me down? Did we forget how worthless your lives are to me already?”
“No, sir.”
“Well, I suggest you both take this as your final warning and figure out what you’re going to do to fix this little problem you made for us. But for now, it’s best that you get the hell out of my office.”
Neither of them hesitated when Roz dismissed them. Pete turned to leave as Jesse held his neck and scrambled out behind him.
Chapter Eleven
Tara scooped three wine glasses into her hand and slipped a bottle of Syrah from the wine rack while Lucy made herself comfortable on the front porch. Cate had yet to arrive for their monthly girls’ gab and gossip fest, but it wasn’t out of the ordinary. Unlike Tara, both Lucy and Cate had successful long-term careers. Lucy and her husband were freelance corporate attorneys for a staggering number of businesses and organizations throughout Florida, including Cate’s independent organic market and food delivery.
Cate had started her company out of her passion for food and her frustration with the lack of quality natural products in the area. When she first opened Nature’s Bounty, Tara spent almost as much time getting things off the ground as Cate had. She honed her arsenal of skills as stock girl, cashier, and delivery driver, and developed her own taste for natural fruits and veggies. She set the glasses onto the table next to Lucy and sat down. Tara wedged the wine bottle between her legs and jabbed the one-legged pirate corkscrew into the top. As she poured out the dark liquid in the waiting glasses, Cate sauntered up the sidewalk carrying a large brown box.
“Fresh organic delivery for Ms. Hicks,” Cate announced as she came up the steps and set the box onto the stoop. “I threw in some wine because, well, because who doesn’t always need more wine.”
“Oh! Dibs!” Lucy called out before Tara had a chance to say anything.
“Hey, get your own, lush.” Tara reached her arm out to stop her sister from stealing her gift.
Cate laughed. “Don’t worry, Luce. I have yours in the car.”
Tara frowned. “And here I thought I was your best friend.”
“You’re twins. Haven’t you learned how to share yet?”
Lucy responded curtly, “Nope.”
“Okay, then.” Cate looked down at the table. “Is that mine?” she asked as she reached for the beverage.
“No.” Tara grabbed the glass and held it and hers close to her chest. “You don’t get any until you say that you like me better.”
“Oh, for goodness sakes.” Lucy groaned. “Are you serious?”
Tara looked at her incredulously. “Yes, I’m serious.” She looked back at Cate and waited for her to say it.
Cate rolled her eyes and reached out for the glass. “Fine.”
“That doesn’t count. Say. It.” Tara raised her chin with pride.
“It.”
Lucy laughed and sipped her wine. “Good thing I didn’t have the same requirement. I’d be so thirsty. Mmmm.” She took another long sip.
“I can take that away from you,” Tara said as she motioned to Lucy’s glass.
Lucy pulled her arm back. “And I’ll bite your damn hand off if you come any closer.”
Cate laughed. “Fine, dammit. You’re my favorite. Now give me my booze and nobody gets hurt.”
Tara handed Cate her glass. “Was that so painful?”
“Excruciating.” Cate took her wine and sat in the rocker next to Tara.
“I now call this meeting to order.” Tara held out her glass in a toast as Lucy and Cate clinked theirs with hers.
The Friday Fest girls’ night had become a tradition for them when Tara first bought her home in Thornton Park. The east side of Lake Eola was a bustling neighborhood mixed with historic homes, bars, restaurants, and art galleries. The first Friday of each month drew crowds of people into the community for sidewalk wine tastings and impromptu art exhibitions on the quaint tree-lined streets. They sometimes took their meeting out with the crowds, but for the most part they were content to squat on the porch with their bottles of wine to chat and people watch.
“How’s everything at the store, Cate?” Lucy asked.
“Super busy. You know what I think about Monsanto, but it’s doing wonders for sales.”
“Have you thought any more about opening that second location?”
“I have. I just don’t know if I’m ready for that again. I’m seeing profit, I have exceptional staff and supply, and I’m now getting to enjoy some free time again. I’m not sure I want to give that up yet.”
Tara nodded in agreement. She knew how much time Cate put into her business, and she was glad to be spending time with her again. “That’s understandable.”
“Speaking of free time, how’s your new job going, Tara?” Cate asked.
“It’s good. I like it. A lot.. It’s pretty laid back most of the time, with the exception of last night, of course. There’s quite a bit to learn as far as the art goes, but everyone there is helpful and knowledgeable.”
“A lot?” Lucy asked.
“Wow.” Cate said.
“Yeah. I mean, I never gave much thought to art in general, but there’s something to be said about the meaning and passion that goes into a work of art. Don’t you think?” Tara’s mind drifted back to the passion she felt in Belle’s voice as they stood in front of Monet’s Sunrise the night before. The silence brought her out of her short daydream, and she looked at they eyed her with surprise. “What?”
Lucy and Cate looked back and forth at each other a couple times before Lucy spoke. “I don’t even know where to start.”
“Then don’t start.”
“I wasn’t starting anything.”
Before Tara could get defensive, Cate spoke up. “What happened last night? You said something about it being laid back ‘for the most part.’ Except for?”
“Oh, that.” She knew they were more interested in her sudden and unexplainable interest in art, but she was far more comfortable with a different topic. Tara leaned back in her chair as she recalled the incident from the night before. Lucy and Cate leaned forward in their own chairs and hung on every word that Tara said. It was a good story, full of action and suspense, complete with a damsel in distress. Although Belle wasn’t the typical fairytale damsel, Tara couldn’t help but smile at the thought of herself as her knight in shining armor.
“Damn, Tara. That’s crazy. To think of what could’ve happened had you not opened that door in time,” Lucy said.
“What if they were armed?” Cate added.
Tara hadn’t even thought about that until Cate had said it. She had no second thoughts then or now. She still would have done it all the same. “You know, I don’t know. I’m glad it didn’t come to that, and I’m sure they were just a couple of punk kids anyway. Although, I can’t say that the whole thing didn’t have a particularly pleasant outcome, considering.” Tara smiled at the memory of Belle’s squeals and laughter as they barreled through the halls with the wheelchair.
Cate looked at Lucy and raised an eyebrow. “Clearly, she is leaving something out. Wouldn’t you say?” They looked back at Tara and waited for her to continue.
“That’s it.” That wasn’t it, but Tara didn’t see the point in trying to explain the connection they made or the kiss they’d shared. She hardly understood it enough herself. Tara shouldn’t have been surprised when neither of them took that as an acceptable conclusion to the story.
“I call bullshit!” Lucy said.
“I second that. You think we’re just going to believe that you pulled her inside, called the police, and both of you went on your separate merry ways—the end? I don’t think so. What aren’t you telling us?” Cate asked.
“Nothing. It’s Lucy’s turn. How’s work, sis?” Tara sipped her wine, and be
gged in silence for them to accept the subject change.
“Fat chance, missy. You’re keeping something from us. And it’s something juicy enough to give you that goofy smile on your face. Spill it.”
The timer for the porch lights clicked on, and Tara was thrust onto a bright and empty stage. “There’s nothing to spill. She didn’t want to go home, so she stayed and helped me with my rounds. We talked and laughed, and I may or may not have kissed her when I walked her out to her car.” It’s not like Tara had never kissed a stranger before. Hell, she’d done much more than that with plenty of women she’d just met. There was no sense in putting unnecessary meaning into it beyond what it was—just a kiss. She and Belle had both been overwhelmed with adrenaline and excitement earlier that evening so she chalked it up to nothing more than that.
“You kissed her?” Cate laughed. “Of course you did. That was a stupid question. Only you could have just survived a life or death situation and still tried to get in her pants.”
Tara was a bit rebuffed by Cate’s accusation. She hadn’t forced herself onto Belle, and it’s not like she’d planned it. Something had just come over her, and Tara took a chance. “I didn’t try to. That’s not why I did it. It just felt, never mind. I shouldn’t have kissed her, I know that.” Up until that moment Tara had only remembered the uncontrollable attraction for Belle. But now she’d begun to feel like maybe she had taken advantage of her in a stressful situation. “It might not have been my best decision. I see that now.”
“I don’t think Cate meant that, Tara.”
“I didn’t. Not at all. I was just giving you shit.”
“No. You’re right. She was vulnerable and scared, and I just did what I always do. Belle doesn’t deserve that.”
“Well, as an outsider, maybe your timing was a little out of place, but that doesn’t mean it was wrong. Would you still have kissed her if the situation had been different?” Lucy asked.
Would I have? Tara thought back to the very moment she’d first laid eyes on her at the ballet. Without a doubt, she responded, “Yes.” But her admission didn’t change the fact that she had made a mistake the night before in more ways than the one.