In Dog We Trust

by Beth Kendrick

  “It’s bad,” she repeated, slowly turning the frame over.

  Nora’s jaw dropped when she saw the splotches of black, green, and white. “Is that an Echbar?”

  “A what?”

  “Mikolas Echbar.” Nora looked as though she might drop to her knees and genuflect. “He’s a famous Basque painter.”

  Jocelyn squinted down at the blotchy signature on the bottom right corner of the canvas. If she used her imagination, the first letter could be construed as an E. Maybe. “Never heard of him.”

  “We studied him in college. He spent his whole life in poverty, getting raked over the coals by art critics. His work wasn’t properly appreciated until twenty years after his death. He was way ahead of his time.” Nora held out her hands. “May I?”

  “Help yourself.” Jocelyn passed it over.

  “My God.” Nora stared at the canvas. “Is this a reproduction?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “It looks real.” Nora’s voice had faded to a whisper. “But it can’t be. Can it?”

  Rachel leaned against the doorjamb. “I don’t see what’s so impressive about it. A three-year-old could paint that.”

  “You’re wrong.” Nora’s tone was thick with emotion.

  Rachel regarded her with a mix of awe and horror. “Are you crying?”

  “Yes.” Nora traced the surface of the paint with one finger. “It’s beautiful. So moving.”

  “It’s a bunch of smears and dots.” Jocelyn looked to Liam. “Do you see what she’s talking about?”

  He was still packing the suitcase. “I have no opinion.”

  “Helpful.”

  “I’m packing. That’s helpful.”

  Nora raised her gaze to Jocelyn. “Where did you get this?”

  “Long story short, my father gave it to me when I was a kid so I’d get the hell out of his office before his secretary started asking questions.”

  “You’ve had it in a closet for all these years?”

  “Yes.” Rachel rolled her eyes. “And I’ve been begging her to donate it to the thrift store the whole time.”

  “I told you, I’ll donate it when I’m good and ready and not a moment before.”

  Nora clutched the frame protectively. “You’ll do no such thing.”

  Jocelyn pointed to her mother. “Tell that to her.”

  “This belongs in a gallery,” Nora stated. “A museum.”

  Rachel scoffed. “Are you kidding me? No museum is going to hang that out in public.”

  “Not only will they hang it, they’ll pay dearly for it.”

  At the mention of money, Jocelyn’s ears pricked up. “Are you sure?”

  Nora nodded.

  “How sure are you?”

  “If this is a genuine Echbar, it could be worth hundreds of thousands, maybe a million.” Nora pulled out her phone. “If I have your permission, I’d love to take a picture of it and send it to a few contacts. Some of my old classmates work for auction houses now.”

  “Knock yourself out,” Jocelyn said.

  Liam rested his hand on her arm. “You don’t want to sell it.”

  “I don’t?”

  He lowered his voice. “It’s the only thing you have from your father.”

  “Speaking of which . . .” Jocelyn looked over toward the window, which offered a partial view of the infamous ironwood tree. “What do you want to do about that?”

  “The tree?” Liam’s tone was light, but his eyes were solemn. “Leave it alone. It’s not like it’s going anywhere.”

  “Yeah, but, you know. It’s the only thing you have from your father.”

  Nora adjusted her position on the floor, clearly eavesdropping and trying to make it look like she wasn’t.

  “It’s old, it’s huge, the roots probably go on for miles,” Liam pointed out. “I don’t think we have a lot of options.”

  “But your father wanted you to have it.”

  “I think he just wanted me to know about it.” Liam glanced down at his mother. “A tip of the hat from beyond the grave.” He adopted the same casual tone that Jocelyn did when discussing her own father. “He wouldn’t acknowledge his paternity to my face, but he did it on a tree. It doesn’t do me any good. It’s not worth anything.”

  “The value is emotional,” Nora stage-whispered. “The tree is a symbol. It’s bringing us together.”

  “There you have it,” Liam told Jocelyn. “It’s a symbol. Nothing more, nothing less.”

  “Well, this painting is a symbol, too. A symbol I’ve been hauling around and hiding for twenty years.” She harkened back to the words of the lawyer. “Besides, everything is for sale. Everything. It’s merely a matter of naming the right price.”

  “Except the dogs,” Liam said.

  Jocelyn gazed out the window at the ocean and the endless blue sky stretching over the horizon. She thought about her father, the shame and desperation on his face when he’d thrust the painting into her hands and shooed her out of his life for good. Then she turned to the woman who had lost her birthright and her independence to another man who valued money and pride above love.

  “Nora, assuming this is the real deal, how soon do you think we could put it up for auction?”

  “As soon as we get it authenticated and appraised.” Nora was still gazing down at the artwork as though it were a beautiful newborn baby. “There are scientific tests they can run now, with pigment analysis and materials dating.”

  “And how long does that take?”

  “I’m not sure.” Nora finally raised her gaze. “But the sooner I look into it, the sooner we can get the process started.”

  Rachel emitted the humphiest of humphs. “All this fuss over that piece of garbage?”

  Liam was still at Jocelyn’s side. “You don’t have to make any decisions now. You can take your time and think it over.”

  “I’ve never been more sure of anything. This is my legacy, and I know exactly what to do with it.” Jocelyn nodded at the phone in Nora’s hand. “Make the call.”

  chapter 39

  Once that first phone call was dialed, the painting changed. What had been a shameful remnant of a broken family transformed into a mystery to be solved and a fortune to be made. What had been mocked and hidden away was brought to light in an intoxicating blend of intrigue and excitement. Nora bundled up the canvas and hand-delivered it to a curator in Washington, D.C., who retained a team of experts to examine it. In the space of a week, answers started to emerge.

  “It’s a genuine Echbar, all right,” Nora trilled into the phone. “But that’s not all. It’s a lost Echbar. He called it Racing Dogs. There have been rumors about this painting in the art community for years, but no one could ever substantiate them.”

  “Racing Dogs.” Rachel, who was listening in on speakerphone, shook her head. “In what world are there any pictures of dogs in that mess? This Echbar guy must have done a lot of drugs.”

  But Jocelyn was delighted. “So it was all about dogs all this time. You know, I can kind of see it.” She pulled up the digital photo of the painting on her computer screen. “See that part, Mom?” She outlined a silhouette in the corner of the canvas. “See? A big black dog. There’s his legs and there’s his tail.”

  “It looks like a blob,” Rachel retorted.

  “The real question is, how did your father get it?” Liam asked.

  “He bought it,” Nora replied. “From a private collector in Paris.” There was the sound of flipping pages on her end of the line. “There’s no available ownership history before that, but he bought it before he got married. The painting was his sole and separate property. What he did with it was his decision alone. And he gave it to you, Joss,” Nora said. “To keep, to sell, to do whatever you want with. It’s yours.”

  “Sell it,” Jocelyn commande
d.

  “Don’t be hasty,” Nora cautioned. “You might—”

  “I won’t. I’ve made my decision. Sell it as soon as possible and pray for a bidding war.”

  “There’ll definitely be a bidding war,” Nora said. “This is a rare find.”

  Next to Jocelyn, Rachel looked a bit alarmed. “What do you want all that money for, anyway? We’ve been over this—money doesn’t do you any good.”

  “I don’t want the money.” A victorious smile played on her lips. “I want the freedom.”

  chapter 40

  One month later

  Jocelyn left a hefty cash tip for the cleaning team on the marble-topped table on her way out. Her arms and back ached from the exertions of the last few days, but the soreness brought a sense of satisfaction. She had been effectively maneuvered out of her home for a year, but she hadn’t left a mess for anybody else to clean up. She’d taken out the trash and recycling. She’d packed and stored everything she could.

  The backyard, however, was another story. But at least she’d arranged for fresh sand and cedar chips to be spread across the area.

  Before she opened her car door, she texted Bree:

  Echbar $$$ burning a hole in my pocket. Meet me at the Naked Finger in 10 mins.

  Twelve minutes later, Bree opened the door to the jewelry boutique with a flourish. “What’re we buying? A diamond tiara? Ruby slippers?”

  “I don’t have that kind of discretionary income.” Jocelyn had reinvested the bulk of the profits from the sale of the painting immediately . . . after setting some aside for Bree’s law school tuition. She hadn’t mentioned this to Bree, of course, because she’d been so busy prepping for the move that she didn’t have the energy to withstand the argument she knew Bree would give her. “But my mom’s birthday is coming up, and I thought it would be nice to buy her some pearl earrings. She’s always wanted them.”

  “If I ever have children, I hope they’re just like you.”

  Bree threw up her hand to block Jocelyn from entering the showroom. “Oh crap.”

  Jocelyn spotted Chris immediately. He had his back turned to them, but she recognized the expensive haircut and the suntanned forearm with the gold watch. He was chatting with Lila, who was offering up various pricey baubles.

  “He’s probably buying a diamond bracelet for his next ex-girlfriend,” Jocelyn muttered.

  “He doesn’t have to, since you left yours at his house,” Bree muttered back. “Like a fool.”

  Ever the gentleman, Chris was devoting his full attention to Lila. He didn’t notice Jocelyn or Bree as they pretended to peruse the display cases near the door. Lila clocked them, though, and a note of sympathy crept into her voice as she extolled the virtues of a stickpin topped with a Burmese ruby. Clearly, she’d heard about what had happened between Chris and Jocelyn.

  “That’s nice, but I want something really special,” Chris said. “My parents finally gave me the bulk of my trust, and I want to mark the occasion. Here.” He dug into his pocket and produced a thick gold money clip. “This was my grandfather’s. There used to be an onyx right here, but it fell out.” He pointed out an oblong divot in the metal. “I want to replace it with something amazing. What’s the very best you’ve got?”

  Lila made eye contact with Jocelyn and cleared her throat. “I just got this Colombian emerald. Incredibly rare, incredibly clear and well-cut.” She donned the white gloves and extracted it from the case. “My bench worker could take it out of the ring and set it into the money clip.”

  “What’re the gloves for?” Bree muttered.

  Jocelyn recalled what Lila had said about the emerald: The woman who sold it went out of her way to tell me that this ring was definitely not bad luck and would definitely not bring financial ruin on any future owners.

  “I’ll tell you later,” Jocelyn muttered back.

  “Let me take a closer look.” Chris reached out and took the ring from Lila, turning it over and over in his bare hands. When he held it up to the light, he finally noticed Jocelyn. His complexion went ashen and he took a step toward her, his free hand outstretched. “Joss. Hi. I—”

  Bree took this as her cue to bust into the conversation. “Christopher Cantor, as I live and breathe! Fancy meeting you here.” She regarded the emerald for a moment, opened her mouth, and then closed it again.

  Chris looked concerned. “What?”

  Bree’s smile was forty-nine percent sweet, fifty-one percent sinister. “Ooh, it’s just so stunning. There’s something really unusual about it.”

  Bree looked at Jocelyn, then Lila. None of the women said anything, but they all knew.

  Chris perked up. “Fancy, huh? It lets people know I’ve arrived.”

  Jocelyn glanced at the cursed gem, then up at the man who had broken her heart because she wasn’t in the right tax bracket and hadn’t gone to the right school. “It sets off your eyes.”

  He looked almost shy as he regarded her, so eager for her forgiveness. “Yeah?”

  “Oh yeah.” She nodded. “You should snap it up.”

  “It’s one of a kind,” Bree added.

  “It’s a bit pricey,” Lila cautioned.

  He puffed out his chest. “I can afford it.”

  “Let me write up the terms of sale and get a time estimate from my bench jeweler.” Lila walked across the room to grab her phone.

  “Nice seeing you,” Jocelyn told Chris, turning back to examine the earring selection.

  “You, too.” He clutched his antique money clip. “I’m glad we can be friends.”

  “Enjoy that money clip,” Bree said. “I hope it brings you all the riches you deserve.”

  After Chris left, whistling and mentally counting his trust fund, Jocelyn selected a pair of top-quality akoya studs with Lila’s expert guidance.

  “Rachel’s going to love those,” Bree said.

  “Want me to wrap them?” Lila offered.

  “No time.” Jocelyn turned to Bree. “I’ve got to run. I’m meeting a forklift in fifteen minutes.”

  “A forklift? What for?”

  Jocelyn glanced down at the stubborn trace of dirt that remained under one fingernail. “A symbol.”

  chapter 41

  “It really does look like Jurassic Park.” Jocelyn shaded her eyes with her hand and gazed out over the ranch’s landscape. Rolling green pastures gave way to scraggly palmetto bushes, which turned into dense, prehistoric-looking forests.

  “Told you.” Liam slung his arm around her. “What do you think of your new investment?”

  “I’m expecting a pack of velociraptors to come racing out at any second.” Jocelyn tightened her grip on Carmen’s and Friday’s leashes and did a quick head count to ensure that the other dogs were safe and secure.

  “Wait ’til you see the beetles,” Nora teased. “They put velociraptors to shame.”

  Jocelyn looked up at Liam. “That’s it. We’re buying a house in town. We can commute in the morning.”

  “That’s going to be a long commute,” Liam said.

  “What is this?” Rachel wrestled a knobby yellow globe off a nearby tree branch.

  “That’s a mutant lemon.” Nora, resplendent as always in a pale pink shirt, a white sun hat, and a fresh French manicure, plucked another fruit off the tree. “They’re delicious in cocktails.”

  “There’s the dog run.” Liam pointed out the newly constructed wood-and-wire compound complete with shading, a water trough, and ample room to run. “They’ll be safe in there while we’re busy with the cows.”

  As if they could understand him, the dogs swarmed toward the play area. Jocelyn unlatched the gate and let them pile in to explore.

  “They’ll love it here,” she murmured, and knew that it was true. In Black Dog Bay, they’d had sand and seagulls, but here they had meadows and trees, fresh air and fiel
ds that stretched out as far as the eye could see. “I should take a photo and send it to Ms. Jarvinen and Mr. Tumboldt. ‘Thanks for letting me move the dogs to paradise.’”

  “Maybe the puppies will grow up to be herders.” Nora smiled as she watched George Clooney and Pat Benatar tumbling around next to Hester.

  “Speaking of herding, where are all the cows?” Rachel asked. “I thought this was a cattle ranch.”

  “We have—sorry, Jocelyn has over a hundred acres, so they have lots of room to roam,” Nora explained.

  “We have over a hundred acres,” Jocelyn corrected. “I’m not doing this by myself.”

  “Fair enough.” Nora turned back to Rachel. “They’re not like dairy cows—they’re skittish around new people. We’ll get in the Polaris and go track them down later.” She nodded at the sturdy all-terrain vehicle parked next to the clapboard ranch house.

  “You drive that thing around?” Jocelyn asked Liam.

  “You drive that thing around,” Liam told her.

  Jocelyn imagined herself behind the wheel of what was essentially a jacked-up Jeep and wondered if perhaps this whole whirlwind transition—selling the Echbar, ceding the beach house temporarily to Lois, buying a cattle ranch sight unseen, moving down to Florida with her pack of dogs to work alongside a man she’d known for only a few months—might have been a wee bit hasty.

  Liam was studying her expression. “What?”

  “Nothing.” She took a breath. “Everything.”

  “We’ll go find the cows as soon as Bree gets here,” Nora told Rachel.

  “Where is Bree, anyway?” Rachel asked. “I thought she was right behind us.”

  “She was following the flatbed, but she pulled over right before we left civilization,” Jocelyn said. “She texted me and said she wanted to use her cell before she lost service.”

  “The Wi-Fi situation here is not great,” Liam admitted.

  “But who needs Wi-Fi when you’ve got mutant lemons?” Jocelyn said.