“Thanks. I think I want to junk it. Just let me know what I owe you for everything.”
“Nothing at all. I can tell everyone I met a famous artist. And I can probably get enough parts off the car to make a profit.” He winked.
Julia resolved to take him a gift as soon as she could find something appropriate. She’d ask Paul for suggestions. “I appreciate it, but I’m really not famous.”
“Didn’t you paint that picture Mrs. Arbuckle keeps in her special room?”
Claire spoke as Julia turned to her with a question in her eyes. “Yes, she did.”
“That’s famous enough for me.” He nodded to them and walked out.
“I’ll show you,” Claire said, waving her toward the door.
They walked a few steps farther up the gallery’s corridor and stopped in front of a door with a keypad beside it. Claire punched in a combination and swung the door open. Julia stepped into the room to see one of her early landscapes with horses hanging in solitary splendor on the opposite wall. It was lit perfectly, and she was surprised at how much she still liked it. Sometimes it was painful to revisit her older pictures; they were so immature. In this one she had managed to capture the light in a way that made it interesting, even if the subject was conventional.
She slid a sideways glance at Paul to see how he reacted to this painting. He was examining it with a detached expression. There was nothing of the stunned astonishment her other painting had evoked.
“I’ve always loved this painting,” Claire said, her gaze locked on it as she walked forward.
“The light’s good,” Julia said. “I managed to get that right. And the chestnut’s posture gives some interest to the composition.”
“But you’ve left this particular style behind,” Claire said with an understanding smile.
Julia was beginning to really like her. She nodded. “It was the best I could do at the time.”
“Most painters would kill to do one-quarter as well,” Claire said.
“I’m with Julia,” Paul said. “This one’s really good, but I like the new ones. They grab you by the throat and won’t let go.”
She beamed at him. He might not be an expert, but he got her new work. She opened her mouth to express her gratitude when her stomach growled so loudly both her companions turned to look at her. She pressed her hand against her abdomen, trying to muffle any further complaints. “Sorry. I didn’t eat lunch today.”
Carlos would be distraught if he knew her breakfast had consisted of a package of crackers from a vending machine and several gulps of water from the rest stop’s drinking fountain. And the crackers were only possible because she’d found some stray change on the floor of her car. She’d spent all her cash to buy the rusty SUV, so there wasn’t anything left over for food.
“Let me order you a sandwich,” Claire said, reaching toward the telephone on the desk.
“No, I’ll take her to lunch,” Paul said.
“Don’t you have clients to see? It is a workday.” Julia couldn’t resist a little dig, since he wouldn’t accept her gift.
A half smile tilted his mouth. “No, my afternoon is completely open.”
“So the meeting went well?” Claire asked. “They’re going to fund the Pro Bono Project?”
“Yup.” Satisfaction lit his eyes. “With a minimum of arm twisting.”
“I’m so glad,” Claire said, touching his hand briefly. “You deserve it.”
“There are still a lot of details to be worked out.”
“I’m sure, but you can take pride in knowing they were excited enough to travel all the way down here from New York.”
“I’m pretty sure the golf courses at the Laurels were the main draw.” His fingertips were oscillating against his thigh again.
“When did you become so modest?” Claire asked.
“Right about the time Julia here looked at me as though I were a serial killer.”
Julia had been feeling left out as the two friends discussed something that clearly meant a lot to Paul. Now she happily leaped back into the conversation. “I was just being cautious,” she protested.
“It’s something about his eyes, isn’t it?” Claire said. “He’s got that scary laser focus.”
Paul held up a hand to forestall further analysis of his potential as a mass murderer. “I think it’s time to get some food into Ms. Castillo. We’ll leave you here to contemplate all the commissions you’re going to collect from selling her paintings.”
A sudden realization wrenched Julia’s gaze around to Claire. “Wait! You never mentioned whether you could sell the paintings or not. You just said you thought they were good.”