A Fit of Tempera (26 page)

Arlene Rankers's red-gold curls bobbed up from behind the laurel hedge. “Hi! A look at what?”

Gertrude wore a smug expression. “Come on over and see my new masterpiece. It cost seventy grand. Of course, I didn't pay for it.” Her small eyes sparkled as Arlene hurried into the backyard of Hillside Manor. Pointing to the canvas that Judith was trying to get through the door of the remodeled toolshed, Gertrude simpered. “Only a sap would pay money for something that looks like that. But my late husband always said I had good taste. And I like it. Beauty's in the eye of the beholder, right?”

Arlene studied the painting while Judith stood patiently on the threshold. “It's wonderful,” she enthused. “I never knew cole slaw could be so beautiful.”

Briefly, Judith debated with herself about hanging the picture, her mother—or Arlene.

 

Judith wore a jonquil crepe de chine silk suit with a jewel neck and a short, straight skirt. Renie was in coffee-colored palazzo pajamas and a matching drop-shouldered
tunic top. Joe Flynn and Bill Jones wore two-piece suits. They said they felt like a pair of pallbearers.

“You look wonderful,” Judith whispered to Joe as they accepted glasses of white wine and potted prawns from attentive wait-persons. “You and Bill should dress up more often.”

“I wear a tie every day at work,” Joe grumbled. “That's more than I can say for the professor over there. He could teach classes in a barrel at the university.”

“With what they pay, he may have to.” Judith glanced at Bill and Renie, who were engaged in conversation with Dewitt Dixon and Clive Silvanus. “I'm glad Dewitt confessed everything to Erica. Still, it might teach her a lesson. Maybe she'll loosen the purse strings a little. I don't think Dewitt likes being a leech.”

“Probably not.” Joe nodded a greeting at an official he recognized from city hall. “I suppose it was smart of the Dixons to hire Clive to run the gallery. He may not act like it, but everybody says he knows what he's doing. Let's face it, Riley was the one who tried to pull a fast one in the first place. In a sense, he set everybody else up.”

“True,” Judith agreed, sampling a raw oyster. “But that was typical of Riley. He liked putting other people on the spot. He could manage it even after he was dead.”

“That's real clout,” Joe declared. “I'm not excusing Dewitt and Clive, but they were presented with a temptation that was too hard to overcome. Entrapment, I'd call it. Now, with Lark Kimball as a client, they've got an investment instead.”

Judith smiled over the rim of her wineglass. “Lark may end up doing as well as Riley did. Look at this crowd! Erica certainly knows how to bring people out.”

Erica Dixon was at the center of a large group, exuding charm and pressing the flesh. The opening of her new gallery featured several Pacific Northwest artists and sculptors. Riley Tobias was represented by his “Unfinished Nerd,” and, more happily, by a half-dozen works from his early
and middle periods that had been released from his foundation by the imprisoned Iris Takisaki. The center of attention, however, was Lark Kimball's “Dawn” and “Morning.” The former had been donated by Lazlo Gamm; the latter was dedicated to Riley Tobias.

“Well? What do you think?” Lark, in a pleated, sheer navy silk georgette dinner dress, sounded nervous yet exhilarated. “Did I do the right thing?”

Judith grasped her by the hand. “You've done wonderfully well. The critics and the collectors are enchanted, Lark. Erica might have beaten the drums, but they're dancing to your tune.”

At Lark's side, Ward Kimball beamed. So did Lazlo Gamm, who was hovering at Lark's other elbow. His usual hangdog expression had been replaced by a rapt look of puppylike devotion. “I'm so proud,” Ward Kimball announced. “Lark has found her niche in life. I couldn't be happier.”

Studying Ward's joyful face, Judith decided that Lark's newly found confidence and success definitely agreed with her father. He looked ten years younger. “I see that Erica managed to coax a couple of paintings out of you, too. I heard one critic say he was forecasting a revival for your work. Any chance of you painting again?”

Ward's brow furrowed. “I doubt it. I've had my hour in the sun. It's time for the younger generation to take over. I passed the mantle on to Riley.” His arm went around Lark's slim shoulders. “Now it's up to Lark.” He smiled down on his daughter. “Do you want it?”

Lark's face glowed, and her eyes seemed to shimmer. “I must. I do. I will.”

Judith smiled. The torch had been passed. Riley Tobias had been burned, so had Iris Takisaki, but Lark Kimball had risen from the ashes like a phoenix. The flame leaped in her breast. And in her eyes, which saw so little, though her soul had a vision of its own.

 

“Damn!” Judith tossed the official county document aside and stomped over to the coffeepot. “The taxes have gone up again on the cabin!”

It was a Saturday in October, and the third-quarter property tax statement had just arrived in the morning mail. Joe was perusing the sports section of the daily newspaper.

“How much?”

“Only twenty-three bucks. But that's still a lot, considering. We've never even put the new gutters in.” She poured out more coffee for both of them.

Joe looked up from a story on the World Series. “You divvy that up with Renie and the rest of the clan, don't you?”

“Oh, yeah, right. Still…” Judith sipped from her coffee mug with its official NFL emblem. “It's been over five months since Renie and I went up there to clean out. The only members of the family who have used the cabin since are Cousin Sue's oldest and Mike and Kristin when they took their gang to celebrate their graduation. What's the point of keeping the place just for ourselves if we don't use it?”

Carefully, Joe folded the sports section and set it aside. “We flew to San Francisco in June. Then the summer tourist season set in and you couldn't get away. In late August, you went to Idaho for three days to help Mike get settled in on his new job with the Forest Service. Aunt Ellen and Uncle Win were out here from Nebraska in September. I just got back from that conference in San Diego. We lead busy lives, Jude-girl. Do you want to take on even more, or…?” He let the rest of the question dangle.

Judith sighed. She reached into the sheep-shaped cookie jar and found only a single stale brownie. “I don't even have time to bake these days,” she grumbled.

“And?” Joe's green eyes fixed on Judith's face.

Judith lowered her gaze. “And I'm bone-tired by this time of year. I don't see how I could possibly convert the cabin into a B&B, even if we had the money and didn't
have to worry about what the rest of the relatives would think.”

Joe gave a slight nod, then pushed away from the kitchen table and smoothed his graying red hair. “So how about a little R & R away from the B&B? We could do it ASAP.”

Judith's jaw dropped. “You mean—today? But we've got guests coming in from California and Arizona and Alberta tonight!”

Joe seemed unaffected by his wife's objections. “We've also got Arlene and Carl Rankers.” He stood up. “Throw something in a suitcase. I'll go next door and see if the Rankerses can bail us out for tonight and tomorrow morning.”

“But…”

“But what?” Joe was wearing his most ingenuous expression. “Your mother? Uncle Al is taking her and Aunt Deb to dinner this evening, remember? Tomorrow, Auntie Vance and Uncle Vince are hauling the old girls up to the mountains to see the fall foliage.” Joe came back to the kitchen table and leaned over Judith. “You're not chained to this place. Or to your mother. You're my wife. I want to go to the cabin. With you. Got it?”

Slowly, Judith's head came up. Her black eyes gazed at Joe's round, engaging face. She smiled. “I've got it.” She rested her head against his slightly budding paunch. “It took almost twenty-five years,” she said on a sigh, “but I finally got it.”

Joe patted her shoulder. “Good. Then let's get gone.” He went over to the Rankerses'. Judith went upstairs. A suitcase went into the back of Joe's MG. A bottle of vintage port went, too. And, half an hour later, Judith and Joe went to the cabin.

The world and Hillside Manor went on without them.