didn’t want to inadvertently encourage him. “Sorry, Joel. I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
He straightened. “Have it your way.”
She wasn’t sure if it was disappointment or anger that sparked in his eyes before he turned and stalked away.
Well, that was fun. She sighed. This was justification for why she tried to avoid workplace romances. If they didn’t work out—which in her experience was usually the case—it could be awkward. She thought back to the easy friendship she and Joel had shared before they began dating. She wished they could recapture it but suspected that was unlikely, at least in the short-term.
As much as she regretted how everything had turned out between them, she hoped again that her relationship with his grandmother would remain unaffected. Not only did she like Mrs. Sinclair, but ultimately it would be Mrs. Sinclair’s decision whether to give her the curator position once Mr. Hadley retired. Joel had made it clear that he wasn’t interested in running the gallery, so it was either promote her or Mrs. Sinclair would have to go outside the organization to hire someone.
Chelsea didn’t want to lose Mrs. Sinclair’s friendship—or the opportunity to be the next curator.
No dating people in the workplace ever again! she resolved as she took another large bite of her sandwich.
When Tina called her from the lunchroom doorway, she wondered if she’d ever get a chance to finish her lunch.
“Sorry to interrupt, but Mr. Anderson is here and would like to talk to you about the Babineux.”
Chelsea put her sandwich down and dabbed at her mouth with her napkin, careful not to smear her lipstick. “He didn’t have an appointment, did he?”
“No,” Tina assured her. “But as you know, he does most of his buying on the spur of the moment.”
“Yes, that’s true. Please tell him I’ll be out in a second.” Chelsea rewrapped the rest of her sandwich and stuck it back in the fridge. Looking in the mirror behind the door, she rubbed off a smudge of lipstick with her index finger.
Mr. Anderson was standing in front of the Babineux when she walked into the showroom. His back was to her, his head slightly tilted. He had a sparse frame, was shorter than average, and was impeccably dressed and groomed, as always. Chelsea had often thought that for the price of one of his elegant suits, she could’ve paid the rent on her apartment for at least a month.
“Mr. Anderson,” she said as she approached. “It’s nice to see you so soon.”
He spun around and smiled. “Chelsea, my dear, how are you?”
“I’m fine, thank you.” She glanced at the painting. “I thought it would be only a matter of time before the Babineux graced your walls. Is this the day you make it yours?” she asked.
“Yes, I think it might be. I hadn’t planned to stop in today, but I was in the area with a few minutes to spare.” He grinned and spread out his hands. “I couldn’t resist. I suppose it’s meant to be.”
“That’s what I thought, too! Shall I get the paperwork?”
He stroked his chin as he considered the painting. “Why not? Let’s do it!”
Chelsea felt like doing a fist pump, but knew it would be unseemly. The commission on the sale would cover a brake job and new tires for her car. Both were very close to becoming a necessity. “Please have a seat in the sales office. Would you like a cup of coffee? A glass of champagne, perhaps?”
“As delightful as champagne sounds, it’s too early in the day for me. Let’s make it a coffee, and we’ll both have a glass of champagne when I come to pick up the painting.”
“Sounds perfect. I’ll be right back.”
With the folder in one hand and a cup in the other, Chelsea rejoined Mr. Anderson a few minutes later. “Here you go,” she said, placing the cup and a napkin in front of him before sitting down in the opposite chair. She reviewed the documentation with him. Once he was satisfied that all seemed to be in order, he handed her his credit card for the deposit. While Tina ran the card, she made copies of the appraisal and authentication documents for Mr. Anderson’s insurance company.
“I’ll call you if my schedule changes,” he said. “Otherwise, I’ll see you on Friday to pick up the painting.”
“We’ll have it packed and ready for you, Mr. Anderson.” She held out her hand. “Congratulations on adding another magnificent piece to your collection.”
He took her hand in his. “Always a pleasure doing business with you, Chelsea.”
As soon as he was out the door, not only did Chelsea do that fist pump, she did a little dance. Embarrassment warmed her cheeks when she turned around and noticed Joel watching her. “I sold the Babineux,” she said, to explain her behavior.
“Good for you,” he responded, but his tone was incongruous with the congratulatory words.
* * *
“DO YOU HAVE a minute?” Sam asked Colin from the doorway to his captain’s office.
Colin dropped the report he’d been reading on his desk. “Sure. What’s up?”
Sam took a seat on the other side of Colin’s desk. “We still don’t have anything on the jewelry store robbery.”
“You’re not bringing me a problem without a solution, are you?”
Sam knew his boss was half joking. He was always on them not to just come forward with a problem but to bring the options to solve it. “I’m working out the alternatives. First of all, if we go with the theory that the break-in was to test our response time because there’s another target in the area, my bet would be the Sinclair Gallery.”
“Why?
“The value of some of the pieces in there could pay for a small house.”
Colin leaned back and crossed his arms. “No kidding?”
“Nope.”
“I can’t see how there’d be a market for that kind of art in Camden Falls.”
“Good point. What I learned is that the gallery’s clientele is from a much larger catchment area. It’s international, in fact. When you’re dealing with rare works and there’s only a limited number of people with deep enough pockets and a desire to spend that much money on art, it doesn’t matter where the gallery is situated. There isn’t a critical mass of potential clients in any one location. They go where the art is.”
Colin nodded thoughtfully. “Regardless of what we find on the jewelry store break-in, I’ll have to think about increasing patrols in the area on a permanent basis.”
“Not a bad idea. Now here’s another long shot. I discovered that the jewelry store owners’ sister-in-law is estranged from her kid, who’s been raised mostly by them, his aunt and uncle. She has addiction issues, and was recently released from a mental health institution. You’d mentioned the possibility of an addict looking for easy money. Her last known address was Springfield, but she hasn’t been there for a while. There’s no record of employment. What if she resents the Rochesters for what might, in her eyes, amount to taking her only child away from her? And what if she’s desperate for a quick fix? Would she consider the jewelry store as a means to an end?”
Colin was silent for a moment. “I agree it’s a long shot, but I have to say that between the two alternatives, I’d consider the sister-in-law breaking in more probable. Where do you go from here?”
Sam shrugged. “I’ll try to determine the sister-in-law’s whereabouts. Continue to pursue the other avenues of investigation and so on.”
“What about the young woman who showed up at the store? We know the stats on how often perps return to the scene of the crime.”
“Not