The Second Family

by Janice Carter

  Not that she intended to.

  TESS WAVED a goodbye that only Molly returned as she and Nick walked down the drive toward the highway. Although Nick was obviously still angry at her, he’d agreed to help her go through the master bedroom and the studio later that day to check for any stolen items. She was about to close the door when she saw a truck turn into the bottom of the drive. It slowed down as it passed Nick and Molly, then proceeded on to the house.

  As it drew closer, Tess recognized the neighbor down the road. Stone. But what was his first name? Larry. Grateful that she was already dressed, she stepped out to greet him as he climbed out of the truck.

  “Good morning, Mr. Stone. How are you?”

  He took his Stetson off and smiled. “Please—it’s Larry. Thought I’d pop by to see if things are okay here.”

  “Oh? Well, we’re fine thanks.”

  “Just that when I was going home late yesterday afternoon, I noticed a police cruiser here. I would’ve called right away, but the wife and I had an engagement in town and I was already late.”

  She knew he was waiting for her to offer an explanation. “We had a break-in yesterday. When I was in town with Molly.”

  “No!” The shock in his face brought the whole frightening moment back again.

  Tess nodded, suddenly too overcome to speak.

  He moved swiftly to her side, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “You poor thing. You must’ve been scared out of your wits.”

  Tess felt herself tear up, but resisted the urge to sob on his shoulder. “It was pretty frightening at first,” she said. “The strange thing is that we don’t think anything was taken. Nick and I went through the whole place and other than the master bedroom and the studio being messed up a bit, nothing was missing.”

  He dropped his hand from her shoulder and took a step back, frowning at her. “Maybe your arrival interrupted them or something. You sure you’re okay? You look a bit pale.”

  “I’m fine, seriously.” She hesitated.

  He insisted on seeing the damage and she walked him around the house to the back door. He inspected it and the broken window in the studio. “These windows can’t be left like this. Look, I know a great contractor in Boulder who does a lot of work for me. How about I give him a call and have him come out to fix them?”

  “Shouldn’t I wait and call the insurance company?”

  He pursed his lips in disdain. “Then you’ll really wait. If I were you, I’d get them fixed first, then present a bill. I’ll make sure the guy gives you a good deal.”

  “That would be wonderful, Larry.”

  He smiled. “I’ll have him give you a ring later today. And by the way, if you feel nervous about being alone here with the kids, call us. Here,” he said, digging into his jeans pocket for a wallet. “Take my card. I know Richard had my phone number in the house somewhere, but just in case you can’t find it.” He handed Tess a small white business card that read Stone Construction and Development. “You’re welcome at our place anytime, night or day. Just give us a call.”

  “Thanks, Larry. That’s very kind of you.”

  “Hey, neighbors have to be good to one another out here. You never know what can happen.” He must have seen something in her face for he quickly added, “I mean, snowstorms in winter or electricity going off. When you live in the country, you depend on neighbors for more than a cup of sugar.” He laughed and turned toward his truck. “By the way, Marci’s been talking about dropping by one day. Just to let you know we haven’t forgotten about you.”

  Tess smiled and waved as he got back into the truck and drove away. His offer had been friendly and although she doubted she’d ever need to call on him, she appreciated knowing someone nearer than Alec was available. She wandered back into the house and finished tidying up the breakfast dishes. It was only eight-forty-five and the day loomed long and empty ahead of her.

  Of course, she reminded herself, there were chores she could tackle. The laundry hamper was growing ominously large and the family room, littered with various articles of clothing, scraps of paper and books and old newspapers cried for attention. But Tess hated housecleaning more than cooking and she rationalized that the place would receive a good clean when it was put up for sale.

  It was a bit early to call Mavis, but Tess craved a talk with her, especially after last night’s outburst from Nick. Face it, girl. It was the subsequent tiff with Alec that had been the actual cause of her restless sleep. She poured herself a coffee and sat down by the phone.

  Mavis was shocked about the break-in. “Are you sure there’s no danger of that person coming back?” she asked.

  Little hairs rose at the back of Tess’s neck at this echo of the police officer’s very warning.

  When she told Mavis about the ensuing incident with Nick, her guardian was blunt. “This can’t go on much longer, Tessie.”

  The childhood nickname indicated Mavis was worried. “What?”

  “Don’t play with me, lass. You’ve got to make up your mind about the kiddies. They’ve been waiting long enough. That’s why the lad is so touchy.”

  “I’ve only been here little more than a week.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” she said. “You get busy with that decision. Those children need to know what’s going to happen to them.”

  Tess massaged her forehead. Mavis’s lilt always came out when she was worried or stressed. “I know, Mavis. I just don’t know what to do. The more I get to know the kids, the more I worry about who they’ll end up with.”

  “Exactly.”

  “So what do you think I should do?”

  “You know how I feel, but I can’t advise you what to do. You have to listen to your heart, not your head.”

  Tess had to admire Mavis’s uncanny ability to bring her to a point in the discussion and then drop her, leaving her to figure things out on her own. It was a strategy the older woman had used when Tess was a teenager and rebelling against curfews and other restrictions. Tess chatted further about more neutral topics like Molly’s coming birthday but ended with the promise that she’d make a decision in the next couple of days.

  When she hung up, Tess wasn’t sure if she felt better after her talk with Mavis or worse. The woman had the knack of reducing complicated issues to simple fact. Tess wished she had the same skills, especially where her feelings toward Alec Malone were concerned. She touched her upper lip. A wonder it wasn’t red and swollen this morning, she thought, from all that kissing. Her thoughts began to drift…

  The shrill peal of the telephone made her jump. It was the contractor Larry had called about the broken windows. He told Tess he had some free time later in the morning and was planning a visit to the Stone place anyway. Silently grateful to Larry for arranging the repairs so quickly, she hung up. The thought of the studio reminded her that she’d left the painting in the back of the Volvo, now in the garage. She headed out there and carried the painting into the studio, setting it up on one of the easels.

  It hadn’t been framed when her father had taken it with him, the last time she saw him. It looked as fresh as it had years ago—a result of the cleaning Kozinski had mentioned, she supposed. She decided against leaving it on the easel, in case whoever had broken in did come back, as the police warned. As she removed it to store in a closet, she noticed that part of the paper backing had ripped when she’d pulled it from the car.

  It wouldn’t hurt, she figured, to have a look at the other painting. She could always wrap it again. She tore at the paper and a long strip came away, revealing not an oil still life, but the coarse grain of wood. The painting was no longer there.

  Stunned, Tess ran her fingers along the wood. Someone—and she knew instinctively that it would never have been her father—had cut the board in two, separating the paintings. Tomas Kozinski would have had to know about it, yet he’d not mentioned a word to her when she picked up the painting yesterday. She placed the painting in the closet, locked up the studio and marched into the hou
se to telephone the gallery.

  “Mr. Kozinski,” she said when his recorded message played. “It’s Tess Wheaton. There’s a problem with the painting you gave me yesterday. I know there was a still life on the back but it’s no longer there. Would you know anything about that? Please call me immediately. I’m also going to be calling Jed Walker, to find out if he knows what happened to the other painting.”

  As soon as she replaced the receiver, she dialed Walker’s number. He sounded only mildly interested, though his tone became more alarmed when she used the words fraud and investigate.

  “I’m sure there’s a good explanation for this, Ms. Wheaton. Kozinski is a very reputable art dealer. No way would he be involved in anything bordering on fraud. My bet is that your father either gave permission for the paintings to be split or did it himself.”

  “He wouldn’t,” she sputtered, angered by the suggestion. “The paintings had to stay together because they’re both connected to me.”

  “How so?”

  “Because…because I was the subject of one and the other was connected to a specific childhood memory.”

  “Yet you and your father were apparently estranged for years, were you not? And don’t forget, the bequest was made as a codicil. Basically an afterthought, Ms. Wheaton.”

  Tess closed her eyes, pained at the inference in what he said. An afterthought. True enough. Perhaps she’d never know what instinct had prompted Richard Wheaton to make that codicil, but he had. And Tess knew he’d never have left her only half of a memory.

  “Well, just to reassure you, I’ll personally give Kozinski a call to see what I can find out. By the way, the will’s in probate and I have a buyer for the house.”

  “A buyer?”

  She must have sounded dumbfounded, for he hesitated briefly. “Yes. The house and contents need to be sold in order for me to tally the full net worth of the estate. Then I can proceed with the trust funds for the children.”

  “And the children?”

  “If you decide against applying for legal guardianship, then Child Protective Services will place them. I know the Sullivans want to keep Molly. As for Nick…” His voice trailed off. “I’m sure Mr. Malone will think of something. At any rate, the children only factor into my job in terms of the trust. When I receive the go-ahead from probate, I’ll negotiate the sale of the house.”

  “Couldn’t you put it off for a few days? It’s just that I’m not sure yet what I’ll be doing. I don’t think the kids will be able to handle such a big disruption. They’re just settling in now and—”

  “I hear what you’re saying, but the wheels of business roll on, do they not? Surely you can appreciate that. An interested buyer in today’s market cannot be so easily dismissed. In the long run, settling the estate and getting the money from it into a trust is the best we can do for those kiddies. Listen, I’ve got to go now. There’s a call waiting for me. I’ll get back to you.”

  He hung up before she could add another word. Tess held the receiver a moment longer, replaying what he’d just said. His only interest, she realized now, was to rid himself of the Wheaton affairs as soon as possible. Once the estate was sold off and the trust set up, he would no longer have any interest in the children or what became of them. No one would, except for maybe Alec Malone. Who wasn’t family.

  She tried the art gallery again, but when the answering machine came on again, she hung up. A face-to-face confrontation was exactly what the situation required. After the man came to repair the windows, she would head into Boulder.

  THERE WAS A parking space a few yards before the art gallery and Tess angled the Volvo into it. She switched off the engine and had her hand on the door to get out when she saw Jed Walker exit the building, followed by an agitated Tomas Kozinski. He obviously said something that halted Walker in his tracks. The lawyer stepped back and the two huddled in conversation. Whatever they were discussing, they didn’t look happy with one another, Tess thought.

  After a few minutes, Walker strode toward a car parked farther along the block and drove off while Kozinski watched from the pavement. The look on the art dealer’s face made Tess shudder. Now wasn’t the time to confront him about the painting. She waited until he went back into the gallery and sat for a moment longer, trying to make sense of what she’d witnessed.

  They’d obviously been having some kind of disagreement and Tess’s sudden idea that the scene might be related to her discovery about the painting was irresistible. She had to discuss it with someone and knew the one person who might be interested was Alec Malone. His office was somewhere in the downtown core. She dug into her purse for his business card.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ALEC HAD TO restrain himself from catching hold of Tess’s hand as it flailed in front of his face. He’d sensed from the sound of her voice when she’d called him at work half an hour before that something had upset her. And although he knew she’d get to the point soon, he wished she’d hurry. Still, it was nice to sit and watch the various expressions play on her face while he recalled last night in every shivering detail.

  They’d grabbed for one another as if they were hormone-driven teenagers. He had a feeling she, too, had gone a long time with no loving. Either that or this Doug fella had failed miserably at making Tess Wheaton a happy woman. Not that he himself had been able to satisfy her the way he’d wanted to. Not standing in the driveway, at any rate.

  He’d spent the drive home not just aching with unfulfilled desire but also wondering what the heck had happened to unleash such a torrent of passion. What chemical reaction had suddenly exploded between them to carry them from a state of constant disagreement to physical frenzy?

  “What?” Tess suddenly asked, catching him in his reverie.

  “Hmm?”

  “You had a strange look on your face when I said that I decided to tear the paper off the back of the painting.”

  “I did? Just thinking about last night,” he admitted, grinning.

  Two round circles of color spotted her cheeks. “Oh. That was…unexpected,” she said.

  “Damn right.”

  “I mean, considering how we’ve been arguing about everything the past few days.”

  “Not arguing so much as disagreeing.”

  “More than disagreeing.”

  “Now we’re disagreeing about disagreeing,” he pointed out.

  She smiled, catching the edge of her lower lip between her teeth. He was beginning to recognize that as her embarrassed look. “True, but last night we agreed on something.”

  He leaned across the table and grasped hold of the hand clenched at the base of her throat. Another sign of nervousness. “I’ll say,” he murmured.

  She tugged away her hand, ostensibly to reach for her glass of water. “Okay, so back to what I was saying. When I took off the paper, I saw that the painting on the other side was gone.”

  Unsure of what that signified, he shot her a blank look rather than make it too obvious he hadn’t been paying much attention to what she’d been saying.

  “My father often painted on wooden boards in those days,” she explained. “And he sometimes used both sides to save money. The painting that he left to me was one of those and both sides had something to do with me. One is a portrait when I was five or six. The other side was a still life.”

  Alec found himself drawn into her story, in spite of his difficulty in focusing thoughts away from last night. He’d never met Richard Wheaton but had read about him. The contrast between the commercially successful painter and the desperate man Tess had known was striking. He could see her logic, that separating the two paintings wasn’t something the painter would do. But when he reminded her that the studio fire had destroyed many of Wheaton’s works and that maybe he’d needed to raise some hard cash to pay the bills, Alec saw the indignation rising in her eyes. She didn’t want to hear that. He backed off. “Tell me why this painting is so important to you?” He saw from the look on her face that his question had start
led her.

  She took her time answering. “Not just because it represents a time in my life when I was happy. When I thought I’d have a family forever.” She dropped her gaze. Finally, she raised her eyes to him. They glistened with tears. “I think he took the painting with him when he left because he wanted to keep some memory of me and the days we spent together while he painted it. And it’s important, too, because after he left my mother destroyed the works he’d left behind. So that painting is really all I have left of my father.”

  Alec didn’t know what to say. He knew what he wanted to do—take her into his arms. But she was on the opposite side of the table in a crowded restaurant. Besides, he sensed comfort wasn’t what she wanted so much as understanding. So he simply nodded and murmured, “Then you definitely need to straighten out what’s happened.”

  She gave him a grateful smile and was about to say something else when the waitress brought their order.

  “I’m glad you like Mexican food,” he said, wanting to lighten the moment, “because Juanita’s is one of the best in town and I’m hoping we can do this again sometime.”

  “Uh, sure.” She glanced up from the forkful of enchilada poised in front of her mouth.

  “That is, if you’re still around.”

  She set the fork down onto her plate. “I need to talk to you about that, Alec.”

  Uh-oh. Here it comes. You and your big mouth, Malone.

  “I spoke to Jed Walker today and he informed me that he had a buyer for the house. He seems to be in a rush to close the sale and when I asked him about the kids and what would happen to them, he was almost dismissive. As if he really couldn’t care less.”

  And why does that surprise you? he wanted to ask, but was quick enough to keep his mouth shut this time.

  “I know that probably doesn’t come as a surprise to you,” she said, reading his mind. “But I was struck by how cool he was about it. All that charm at our first meeting and how he assured me that he wanted my input into what happened to them—all that just vanished. The bottom line was—”