Country Roads(118)

As she stepped back, Tim crossed his arms and planted himself in front of the portrait. The strong lights brought up a tint of auburn in the hair curving onto his forehead. Julia wished she were staying longer so she could paint the big man as a gift to Claire. He pursed his lips in a low whistle. “This painting has layers on layers. You need to study it to understand them all.”

She shouldn’t have been surprised; Tim was married to a very sophisticated art dealer. But she hadn’t expected such perception from a man who seemed so straightforwardly a country veterinarian.

Something of her reaction must have shown in her face because Claire laughed as she came up to slip her hand through the crook of Tim’s elbow. “He fooled me too when I first met him. He’s a collector of equine art, so one of your Night Mares just might find its way into his collection. Not that I will show any favoritism.”

“The only reason she married me was to get her favorite Castillo painting back,” Tim said, his eyes glinting with mischief.

The love enveloping the two of them made Julia ache, so she turned toward the Night Mares. “You opened up the space more when you added the new ones,” she said, sweeping her hand around the circle of panels. “It looks great.”

“And we can get more people into the exhibit at the same time,” Claire said.

“Let me move that last chair and then I have to go vaccinate the Cruikshanks’ new cows,” Tim said, dropping a kiss on the top of his wife’s head. He picked up a leather armchair like it was a paper cutout and strode off down the back hallway with it.

Claire tugged Julia over to the couch, which was now positioned near the desk. “Tell me what’s happened,” she said, pulling Julia down beside her on the cushion.

Julia knew she looked like hell. She’d passed up dinner the night before because her stomach had tied itself in a knot that refused to unravel. This morning, the smell of pancakes and bacon had twisted the knot tighter.

She’d spent the sleepless night drawing Paul’s face over and over and over again, trying to empty him out of her mind and onto the paper. She’d awakened this morning on the sofa, a snowstorm of torn pages blanketing the floor around her.

“I love Paul,” she said to Claire, “but he doesn’t feel the same way.”

Concern shadowed Claire’s brown eyes. “I think you’re wrong. He just has a very complicated set of responsibilities.”

“He told me.” Julia swallowed hard. She had also decided she wouldn’t cry over him anymore, but that was proving difficult. “I’m not asking him to shirk them. He’s the one who thinks he can’t do both.”

Claire frowned and looked away. “I was afraid of that.”

“I know you’re old friends and you’re worried about him,” Julia said. “I threw everything I could at him, but I can’t break through that wall he’s put up. He doesn’t love me enough to let me in.” It was the conclusion she’d reluctantly reached after her long night of reliving every moment of their time together.

Claire sighed. “I really thought…” She shook her head.

“I feel like I’ve swallowed a gallon of brush cleaner, but I’ll never regret loving Paul,” Julia said, wobbling up off the divan. “Now I’ve got to get the painting over to his office. Verna told me he has a fifteen-minute opening right before lunch.”

Claire stood and enveloped her in a hug. “I hope you can get him to keep it.”

“That’s why I want witnesses.”

They walked down the hallway to a room filled with artwork neatly slotted into wooden racks. “I got my framer to do a rush job on it so Paul can hang it immediately.” Julia started to stammer a thanks, but Claire waved her into silence. She pulled out a big bubble-wrapped canvas and lowered it to the floor. “How are you going to get this there?”

“Carry it.”

“On foot? It’s pretty big and unwieldy.”

“More witnesses. And I’m used to carrying big canvases around.” Julia took a breath and met Claire’s eyes straight on. After the woman’s kindness in having the painting framed, Julia felt even guiltier about what she was about to say. “I know I promised to stay for the auction tomorrow, but do you think I could decline? My uncle is flying home Saturday morning and I thought I’d go with him. I don’t think it will hurt the bidding all that much if I’m not at the gala.”

Claire’s eyes brimmed with understanding. “Of course you can go home. I’ll deal with Belle. You’ve done more than enough.”