The Long Way Home (17 page)

“I have. I always adored my mother, but over the past few years I’ve come to realize how little I really knew her. Partly because she was always off someplace else, partly because when I was younger and so full of myself, it never occurred to me that I didn’t know her the way I should have. Being here does make me feel closer to her.”

“That’s a good thing, El.” Carly went on, “And when you’re ready to put the house on the market, I think you’re going to be surprised by how much
you’ll get for it. The location couldn’t be more perfect.”

“I’ll do really well when the time comes,” Ellie agreed. “Assuming I can do the work that it needs to pass inspection.”

“You will. And you know, it’s good that you’re having time away from everything and everyone from the past, time to cleanse your palate, so to speak.”

“There’s no question that I need to put all of that behind me. This last year has been hellacious.”

“Do you hear from Henry?” Carly asked.

Ellie shook her head. “I hope I never do.”

“I think he cared about you, El. I really do.”

“He cared about me to the extent that he could gain access to my father. He cared about being ‘the son Clifford Chapman never had,’ as the newspapers called him. He didn’t so much care about me.” Ellie drew a circle in the sand with the toe of her shoe. “He never even apologized. He never said he was sorry for his part in the whole scam. It didn’t seem to register with him that he’d played a huge part in ruining a lot of lives. Mine was only one of them.”

Carly rubbed Ellie’s shoulder. “Well, he’s behind you now. Your life is far from ruined. And hey, there’s your contractor.…”

“He’s not my contractor,” Ellie protested.

“We’ll see.” Carly stood and pulled on Ellie’s hand. “Let’s go back to your house and make coffee and look through some of the books on those shelves in the living room. I’m dying to see what’s there.”

“Ice cream first.” Ellie tugged on Dune’s lead, and the dog trotted obediently, a piece of driftwood in her mouth. “I stopped at One Scoop or Two this afternoon.
That’s the local ice-cream place where everything is handmade in small batches right there in the shop.”

“What flavor did you get?”

“Maple walnut surprise.”

“What’s the surprise?” Carly caught up with her.

“I guess we’ll find out.”

Ellie came into the living room with a tray that held two bowls of ice cream, two spoons, a pile of napkins, and a bowl of pretzels, Dune dancing behind her with joyful anticipation.

“I found out what the surprise is,” Ellie was saying. “It’s cranberries. I cheated and took a taste. It’s amazing.”

Carly stood with her back to the door, staring at one of the paintings on the wall. “Ellie, this painting …” she said without turning around.

“What about it?” Ellie placed the tray on the coffee table. Dune patiently stared down the bowl of pretzels.

“It’s signed Carolina Ellis.”

“I know. There’s a bunch of her stuff hanging throughout the house.”

Carly turned slowly. “There are
more
?”

“A half dozen or so.”

“Ellie, do you know who Carolina Ellis is? Was?”

Ellie shrugged. “No. But it sounds as if you do.”

“You could say that. Carolina Ellis’s work was ‘discovered’ by the art world about twenty years ago, but she’s since been recognized as one of the more important women artists of the very early twentieth
century. Her
Life Along the Chesapeake
hangs in the Met.”

Ellie tilted her head. “So, her work’s valuable?”

“The last painting to come up to auction sold for a bundle.”

Ellie frowned. “I wonder how Lilly came to own them.”

“Them?”

Ellie pointed to the opposite wall. “There’s another right there.”

“Holy crap.” Carly all but sprinted across the room and studied the painting for several minutes before asking, “Ellie, notice anything different between the two paintings?”

Ellie walked to the other side of the room and stood in front of the painting. “This one is darker than the other. In that one,” she pointed back to the first painting, “the colors are much lighter, the feel of the painting is lighter.”

“I’ve only seen one Carolina Ellis painting where the colors and the subject matter are this dark,” Carly told her. “The few that have come to auction over the past few years have all been painted during her lighter period.”

“The ones in the dining room and the ones upstairs are even darker.”

Carly put a hand over her heart as she crossed the foyer to the dining room. “I cannot believe this. I doubt anyone in the art world has any idea that these exist.”

Ellie joined her across the hall.

“Pinch me,” Carly said. “This is by far the largest example of her works that I’ve ever seen.”

“It is larger than the others,” Ellie conceded. “I take it that’s good.”

“Very good, as in very rare. This storm scene …” Carly shook her head. “The way the waves are swirling just like the sky … it’s beautiful. Just beautiful.” She turned to Ellie.

“You realize that one of these beauties could pay for the repairs and the renovations on this house.”

“Yes and no.” Ellie leaned on the back of one of the dining room chairs.

“What do you mean?” Carly frowned. “You inherited the house and the contents, right?”

“Well, first I’d need to see Lilly’s will to see if she bequeathed them to my mother. And there’s that pesky clause in Mom’s will that stipulates that nothing can be sold until I’ve lived here for six months. It hasn’t even been a month yet.”

“Maybe you can use them for collateral.”

“Assuming they belong to me. Can you appraise them?”

Carly nodded. “Of course. But I’ll want to have them cleaned and removed from their frames and run some tests on them first.”

“Don’t let me stand in your way.”

“I don’t have anything with me to work with. I’d have to take them back to my gallery.”

“So bring your tools and work here.”

“I might have to do that.” Carly stared at the painting on the wall, a smile on her face. “On second thought, I should take them to my house. I wouldn’t want word of this find to get out. I think I want to keep them under wraps, then, when they’ve all been cleaned and catalogued, we’ll do a fabulous exhibit.”

“Why the smile?”

“Oh, was I smiling?” Carly laughed. “I’m just imagining the stir these paintings will create when I announce that Summit Galleries has located a cache of hitherto unknown Carolina Ellis paintings.” She turned to Ellie. “You will let me display them all, right?”

“Of course. If they’re mine.”

The two women stared at the storm that was rising chaotically on the canvas in swirls of oils, shadows that went from dark to darker still.

“Ellie, it couldn’t be a coincidence that your first name and her last name is the same.”

“I was just thinking that same thing. It would be really cool to find out that I was named for a famous artist.”

“She wasn’t famous when you were named. She hadn’t been ‘discovered’ yet. And there’s still so little known about her.” Carly sighed. “This is blowing me away. I come to visit my best friend and look what I find.”

“You drove hours to visit an exiled friend,” Ellie draped an arm over Carly’s shoulder, “so it’s only right that you are rewarded in some way.”

“I want to see the others.”

“They can wait five minutes. Right now, our ice cream is melting, and trust me, you’re going to love every delicious bite.”

Carly looked torn.

“The ice cream is melting now. On the other hand, the paintings have been here for a very long time and most likely will still be here in ten more minutes.”

“You said the surprise was dried cranberries?” Carly raised an eyebrow.

Ellie nodded and pointed toward the door. “Just in time for the holidays.”

They each grabbed a bowl of softening ice cream and a spoon, and sat on either end of the sofa.

“Dune, give it up,” Ellie told the dog. “Those pretzels are salty and I don’t think salt is very good for dogs.”

Dune, who’d been eye-level with the bowl of pretzles, sunk to the floor with a soft groan.

“You know, if Carolina Ellis was an ancestor of yours, it explains why your mom’s great-aunt had so many of her paintings. They were probably kept in the family. Carolina’s work has become well known—what there is of it that’s hit the market—though as I said, not much is known about her.”

“I’m afraid I can’t help you there,” Ellie told her. “I don’t know anything about her either.”

“Oh, my. This is decadent. Oh, and there are shards of dark chocolate in there, too. Yum.”

“How did I miss chocolate?” Ellie frowned and dug for a dark shaving in her bowl.

“So how do you suppose Lilly would have been related to Carolina?”

Ellie thought for a moment. “Lilly was my great-grandfather’s sister. My grandmother’s aunt. So she would have been Carolina’s daughter.” She frowned. “Lilly’s maiden name was Ryder, so her mother’s last name would have been Ryder, too. Why wouldn’t she have signed her paintings,
Carolina Ellis Ryder
?”

“Good question.”

“I’ll bet Grace Sinclair would know. She knows everything about everyone in St. Dennis.”

“Can you call her?”

“I don’t have her number but I’m pretty sure she lives at the inn that her family owns. It should be easy enough to get a number for it.”

It was. A quick search on her phone brought up an app for the Inn at Sinclair’s Point. She called the number and in minutes had been connected to Grace’s line. After a few preliminary niceties, Ellie cut to the chase.

“Grace, I’ve found some paintings in my house that were all done by the same artist, Carolina Ellis, and I’m curious about her. Would you happen to know …?”

“Of course, dear.” Grace cut her off. “Carolina Ellis was Lilly’s mother.”

Ellie gave a thumbs-up to Carly. “But I wonder why she didn’t sign them ‘Carolina Ellis Ryder.’ ”

“Oh, her husband wouldn’t have stood for that. He wasn’t at all pleased to learn belatedly that he’d married a serious artist,” Grace said. “For a time, he’d actually forbidden her to paint. Said she spent too much time locked away with her paints, that it was unhealthy. But it’s more likely that he was jealous of the time she devoted to her work. Less time devoted to him, you see. The story I heard was that she became so depressed, that he finally relented and allowed her to work again, but only if she never signed his family name to any of her paintings, and she wasn’t permitted to sell them.”

“So if she wanted to sign her paintings, she had to sign only her maiden name?”

“That’s the way I heard it from my grandmother.”

“Sounds as if he … her husband … had some real control issues.”

“Not particularly uncommon in the early part of the twentieth century. A woman’s place was in the home, you know. That meant taking care of the house and the children and the husband. Any other pursuits were not encouraged.” Grace laughed. “Thank God that’s all changed.”

“Interesting. Thank you, Grace. I appreciate the information.”

“I’m glad I could help,” Grace said before she hung up.

Ellie put her phone back into her pocket. “Carolina’s husband didn’t like the amount of time she spent on her work and forbade her to paint. She became depressed, he gave in, let her work again but she couldn’t sign her paintings with her married name and she wasn’t allowed to sell any of them.” Ellie paused. “That last part seems strange.…”

“Not when you consider the time. No husband of means wanted his wife’s hands to be sullied by currency, for heaven’s sake. That was
his
place.”

“I guess, but it still seems silly.”

“It’s outrageous to us, but that was the way it was. If your wife worked, it meant that you couldn’t afford to support your family.”

“I feel very badly for Carolina—I mean, all this creative talent and to not be able to find an outlet for it must have been hell. No wonder she became depressed.”

“On the other hand, if she’d been able to sell her paintings,” Carly pointed at the paintings on the
walls, “these wouldn’t be hanging here now for you to sell.”

“An excellent point,” Ellie agreed.

“So barring any other bequests on Lilly’s part, the paintings could all belong to you outright through your mother.” Carly appeared thoughtful. “Any idea how you could get a copy of Lilly’s will?”

“The same law firm drew up Lilly’s and Mom’s wills, so I should be able to get a copy on Monday.”

“Great. Maybe you could give them a call first thing and ask.”

“I will.”

Carly sighed again.

“What?” Ellie asked.

“Every gallery owner dreams of finding some great work that no one’s seen before. Some work that, up until that time, had been unknown. And here there’s a whole collection of work that I doubt anyone even knows exists. It’s such a thrill for me … I don’t have words.”

“Don’t get too excited. Maybe no one will care.”

Carly laughed. “The art world will care. What a coup for Summit Galleries, to be able to display such treasures.” A dark cloud crossed her face. “Is there a security system in place here?”

“My mom had one installed but it hasn’t been updated in terms of the technology. It was pretty basic to begin with and hasn’t been on because it kept blowing fuses. But the locals keep an eye on the place, so the house has been surprisingly secure given how long it’s been vacant.”

“Now might be a good time to beef up the amps in
this place and have the security system updated. If someone breaks in and steals them …”

“Seriously, I doubt anyone knows they’re even here, Carly.” Ellie brushed her off. “People around here just think of this place as Lilly Cavanaugh’s old house, and the people in town who knew her have taken great pains to protect it.”

“You lucked out there.”

“I know. It was a bit of a shock to find some silver pieces in the sideboard and a few others here and there. And the duck decoys are worth something as well, from what I understand. No break-ins, no thefts.”

“Like I said, you’ve been very lucky, but I’m still not comfortable with all this incredible artwork at risk.” Carly finished the last of the ice cream in her bowl and plunked the spoon down inside it with a
clunk
. “Finish those last few bites or I’m taking off for the second floor without you.”