gesturing as if at a masterpiece.
There was total silence.
Then a stunned. “My God!” blurted out from Brett.
“Where in the world did you get this?” Jessica was equally transfixed.
“I told you. Christie’s auction.” Tim whipped a satisfied grin over both their stunned faces.
“That’s one of the most haunting paintings I’ve ever seen,” Brett murmured, standing up the better to examine it. “The girl could be Jass.”
“Now you know why I wanted it.” Tim suddenly slumped into a chair as though his legs were giving out. “It made my hair stand on end.”
“So everyone has a double, after all,” Brett muttered. “What can you tell us about this? What’s the provenance?”
“I took a chance on this one,” Tim admitted, addressing his partner, the dominant of the two. Both men were devoted to each other, though Brett had strayed a few times over the years, causing much suffering. Tim brimmed over with charm and good humor, far more comfortable in his own skin than the at-war-with-himself Brett.
“No one knows anything about the artist. It’s signed in a fashion in the lower right-hand corner—H.B. It came in on consignment with a batch of paintings by established artists. There was comment about its beauty, but the serious collectors only buy names. The old girl I’m talking about was after it, I can tell you that. She even offered me far more than I paid for it.”
“It’s beautifully painted,” Jessica observed, making her own close inspection. “Perhaps the artist was in love with her. It has a decidedly erotic quality, don’t you think? I wonder who she was?”
“No date on it?” Brett asked.
“Nothing. From how she’s dressed I’d say late fourties, early fifties.” Jessica, who had studied fashion through the ages, remarked. “She’s very young. Seventeen, eighteen?”
“It’s a particularly fine example of color and light,” Brett said. He had excellent critical judgment. For some inexplicable reason he wasn’t comfortable with the sudden appearance of this remarkable painting. The work struck him as decidedly odd.
“Notice the background,” Jessica was saying. “It’s fairly loose. No clear outlines, but I’d say it’s definitely the great outdoors. Not a suburban garden. The long, curly blond hair is marvelous. So are the green eyes staring right at you. It’s quite powerful, actually. Sort of mesmeric. Don’t you feel that?” She looked back at the two men.
Brett nodded, turning to Tim. “How much did this set us back?”
“Twenty thousand,” Tim said, looking like he was about to get up and run.
“Wh-a-t?” Brett snapped. “An unknown artist?”
“But plenty of panache! That old girl knew him. Or of him,” Tim said defensively. “I’m sure of it. Besides I couldn’t let it go anywhere else. It belongs here.” His dark eyes appealed to Jessica. “She, the girl in the portrait, wanted me to buy it. She moved me to do it. You understand that, Jass. You’re so sensitive. For all we know, she could be a relation.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. We know all the relations, more’s the pity,” Brett said acidly, giving his partner a sharp look.
“Well, we all agree Jessica is extraordinarily like her.”
“Proving as I said, we all have a doppelgänger, nothing else. Next time you go off to these auctions I’m coming with you.”
“I’d love that.” Tim grinned.
“Actually, we could put it up in a prominent place in the showroom.” Brett was starting to come round. “It’ll certainly generate discussion.”
“I thought that, too,” Tim was suddenly all smiles. “Besides, what’s twenty thousand? You’ve got plenty.”
“That’s because I spend little time at auctions,” Brett said dryly, returning to his desk. “By the way, I can’t come to terms with this chair. It looks good, but it’s not kind to my tailbone. Find me something else, will you, Tim?”
“Sure. I’d remind you that I did say it wouldn’t be all that comfortable, except you don’t like being reminded.”
“Thank you for that.” Brett lowered his long, lean length into the mahogany chair. “Now, you’ve shown us your big surprise. Hopeless to top that, nevertheless we’ll try. We’ve got a surprise for you.”
“Do tell.” Tim slipped Jessica something he’d taken out of his pocket.
“What is it?”
“Just a little prezzie.” Tim smiled at her.
“If you’d be so good.” Brett raised a supercilious eyebrow, then continued. “Broderick Bannerman, the cattle baron. Hails from the Northern Territory—”
“How absolutely thrilling!” Tim broke in enthusiastically. “I know the name.”
“It gets better. He’s offered De Vere’s a huge commission. Specifically he wants Jass to handle the entire interior design for his new Outback temple.”
Tim’s expression turned to one of amazement. He stared from one to the other. “You’re making this up, aren’t you?”
“No, Tim, we’re not,” Brett replied, somewhat testily this time. “Hand him the fax, would you, Jass. Bannerman saw her interview with Bruce Hilton and was so impressed he shot off that little lot.”
Tim scanned the fax quickly, then looked up. “Good grief, I’m blown away. So is she going? It’s a big job.”
“One never knows what one is capable of until one tries,” said Brett. “Of course she’s going. There’s plenty we can do to help and advise. It’s a huge commission. There’s bound to be good coverage and flow-ons for us.”
Tim’s brow furrowed. “Are you comfortable about sending Jessica by herself? She’s our baby. Now I think about it, wasn’t there some murder up there? Passed into Outback folklore? Remember, we found the Outback one scary place.”
“Hell, Tim, don’t say that to anyone else,” Brett begged. “What would people think?”
“Who cares what people think?” Tim said. “On the other hand people might agree if they’d been there. Those Olgas, they were fantastic, if kinda forbidding.”
“Look—” Brett tried to be patient “—forget the Olgas, okay? Incidentally, they’ve been renamed Kata Tjuta. A governess disappeared. A tragedy certainly, but no murder. An accident befell her some fifty years ago, but alas there was no body. Bannerman is perfectly respectable. He’s one of the richest, most influential men in the country. He’s not a drug lord. I’m certain Jass will be safe. I’d never let her go if I thought otherwise. She’s young for such a big commission, but that shouldn’t be a deterrent. She’s genuinely gifted and she’ll have plenty of backup. If for some reason Bannerman turns out to be straight out of a Stephen King novel, she can come home.”
“You want to do this, Jessica?” Tim still looked unsettled.
“Hey, of course I do.” She shook his arm. “I’ll be able to brag about it for the rest of my days. Don’t worry, Timmy. It should be quite an adventure.” She started to unwrap his little present. “Ooh, earrings. Aren’t they lovely?” She leaned over and kissed him. “Victorian.”
He nodded. “I knew you’d like them. I picked them up at Maggie Reeves. She has some really nice stuff.”
“You spoil her,” Brett said, sitting forward to look.
“You should talk!” Tim shot back.
“I’m her uncle.”
“And I’m