She trusts me to do the best for him.” Laura wondered if Maria would continue in that trust if she ever learned Laura had broken the engagement the day before Jordan had died. She looked away, remembering. It would be a long time before she’d forget that betrayal. She’d loved him and he’d thrown that away. But to keep his mother from knowing, Laura had not told anyone. She didn’t think the distraught woman could cope with more.
“Has she ever seen his work?” Jed asked.
“I suppose so. Why wouldn’t she have seen what he was doing over the years?” Laura had never questioned that. The dinners she’d attended focused on discussion about works in progress. Jordan always had a good story about what he was working on. Had Maria seen his recent paintings?
“My mother recognizes talent. There is very little showing here.”
“Maybe as a mother, she thinks everything her sons do is perfect,” Laura said, wondering not for the first time what Maria’s reaction would be when she saw the work hanging from the gallery walls. To hear her talk, Jordan had extraordinary talent. She was going to be so disappointed. Laura had asked her several times to come look at the paintings. Maria steadfastly refused.
“Not all sons,” he said absently. “Can you give me an appraisal for tax purposes? Not just of these, but of all he did?”
Laura nodded slowly. She could do a formal appraisal. She’d done it before and her credentials gave her the expertise to be accepted by the IRS. However, she wasn’t sure she wanted to. She was trying to forget Jordan, move on with her life. What would being surrounded by his work, visiting the cottage where she’d been so happy and so devastated, do to her equilibrium?
“I’m heading to his cottage next. How many canvasses will I find there?”
“Lots. I never inventoried or counted. He has them stacked against the walls of his studio.”
Jed glanced at his watch. “Have you had lunch yet?”
Surprised at the question she shook her head.
“Come eat with me and tell me what I need to know about art and how it’s appraised and how much it’ll cost and how long the appraisal process will take,” Jed said—ordered more like.
“There’re other appraisers around. Maybe you should get one of them.” She didn’t want to go back to the cottage.
“Conflict of interest?”
“I would give you an honest assessment. But you might wish for someone else.” Would she truly give a reliable, unbiased appraisal or would the hurt and anguish of the last few months color her opinions? No, where art was concerned, nothing stood in the way of her honest and forthright opinion.
“You know his work. You’d be best.”
Jed’s attention focused on her. Those dark eyes seemed to peer deep into her innermost part. Her breath caught for a moment. She felt a warmth and curiosity that surprised her. What was there about this man that caught her unaware? He was grieving for his brother. That should give them a common bond. She grieved for Jordan’s death. And for the lost love she’d so happily embraced.
Laura blinked. She could almost feel the energy radiating from Jed. The focus on her was unsettling. He was not at all like Jordan despite his looks. She’d do well not to confuse the two just because they looked identical.
“I’m not really keen on that kind of work,” she said, stalling. She didn’t want to spend any more time with Jed Brodie than absolutely necessary. Or with the bittersweet memories of Jordan when he first began courting her.
“But you know art values.”
She nodded.
“You don’t want my folks to know everything is worthless, is that it? They’ll blame you if you don’t appraise it high? And that would damage your relationship,” Jed guessed.
She shook her head. “I never said Jordan’s paintings are worthless. They are not up to your mother’s work. She thinks he was tremendously talented. I hate to be the one to disappoint her. I like your mother.”
“Don’t worry about Mom. Where art is concerned, she’s totally honest.”
Laura was trying to gradually pull back from Maria and Jefferson and their grief. She longed for the business relationship she’d enjoyed when Hugo was still alive and running the gallery. Before Jordan had swept her off her feet. Before things had gone so wrong and emotions and relationships became tangled.
She studied the man in front of her another minute. He looked so much like Jordan she had to keep reminding herself he wasn’t. If he kept looking at her, she’d forget business decorum and reach out to touch him. Once burned, twice shy was the old saying. She needed to be more cautious in her personal life from now on. Not take at face value words designed to convince her she was special. This man was yummy to look at, but was he any different from his brother on the inside?
“It’s only lunch,” he said, amusement creeping into his eyes.
Her bones felt as though they were melting. That look was captivating. She turned away, trying to get control of herself. This was not Jordan. And if he were, she’d be furious with him.
“Come and fill me in. We can visit the cottage afterward and you can give me an estimate on time and cost for an appraisal.” His tone was almost cajoling. Maybe he also had some of that charm that Jordan displayed.
She needed to think this through. On the one hand, it was merely business. She could assess the paintings, do a written report and add some much needed funds to the coffers. She could handle that.
On the other hand, the man was a constant, vivid reminder of Jordan. Her emotions were still in turmoil. Could she forget the past and do the work without some emotional cost? And without becoming infatuated with the spitting image of the man she’d loved until three months ago?
She turned toward the door. “I need to get my purse and let Heather know I’ll be gone for lunch. But I can’t go to the cottage this afternoon, I have an appointment at two.” She would take this one step at a time. If she could manage lunch with Jed, it would give her an idea of how working with him might be.
“So we’ll discuss when you can schedule the appraisal over lunch. Get your purse, I want to look at the rest of these paintings.” He turned his attention back to the canvasses stacked in the rack.
Laura had a feeling she was making a mistake. She still held the envelope he’d given her. Maybe she could quickly read through the papers to make sure Jed was who he said he was. She couldn’t imagine agreeing to his demands and finding out later it was all false.
As she walked through the display area to return to her office, she was pleased to notice several people browsing. Heather stood by attentively, yet let them gaze at whatever they wanted without interrupting them. The gallery was located right on Harbor Street, the main thoroughfare of Miragansett. The colorful historic town was a tourist mecca in the summer months. Hugo had opened the gallery decades ago, before the current interest in old getaways swept the monied set. It was the best location in town.
Once inside her office, Laura opened the envelope. Inside was a copy of Jordan’s will. She had not been at the reading as he had left her nothing having written the will long before he met her. She’d been surprised a man that young even had a will. It was short and to the point—he requested his estate be liquidated and the money divided between his parents and his brother, except for whatever paintings of mine my brother Jed wants. He’d appointed Jed as executor.
“Probably because he’s the only one in the family who isn’t the artistic type,” she murmured.
The letter from the attorney outlined his duties and authority. Jed Brodie was the man to deal with, not Maria or Jefferson. And even if they wished to keep the paintings, they couldn’t. They’d have to purchase them from the estate. How ironic.
Laura reached into the drawer for her purse wondering how this would complicate