The Stolen Canvas(2)
“Not many can say they actually own a Betsy Original!” LeeAnn had said proudly.
Annie was surprised at the amount the Hook and Needle Club had raised at the previous summer’s charity art fair. The bulk of it came from the auction of Gram’s old lighthouse canvas for which a collector had paid $2,000. Inquiries about other New England pieces followed, amazing them all. Gram would be astounded that her canvases had become valuable to anyone but her.
“Hey, dream girl! You ready to go?”
Jolted back to the present, Annie jumped at the sound of Alice’s light soprano call. She’d been practically lulled to sleep by warm thoughts of her family.
“Good grief! You scared me!” she quipped as Alice dropped down beside her. “Is it that time already?”
“We’ll miss half the Hook and Needle Club gossip!” Alice said lightly. “But Mary Beth won’t start scolding until the meeting really begins at eleven. After that, watch out!”
Alice MacFarlane smelled of roses. Her bracelets clinked pleasantly as she coiled her hands around the arms of the wicker chair. Rings tacitly advertising Princessa jewelry glistened on each well-groomed finger, even the thumbs. Alice’s presence only heightened that sense of well-being that had seized Annie from the moment she’d wakened. They had so quickly resumed their friendship; it was great getting reacquainted with Alice’s fun-loving ways and to recall long-ago days of sun and sand along the coast.
Summers in the quaint old town of Stony Point, Maine, encompassed some of her most cherished recollections, many of which she shared with Alice.
Grey Gables, the Victorian home of Charles and Betsy Holden, was built on an eastern hill that overlooked the ocean. The spacious lawn gave way to a winding path through wild grasses scrolling down to the rocky shoreline. On the right side of the Victorian house, with its wide front porch, was a small pond alive with tadpoles, creepers, and dragonflies. She’d forgotten how much she’d loved it during those long-ago summers spent with Grandpa and Gram Holden. And now Grey Gables was hers.
“I was just thinking how good it is to be alive,” Annie said. “I love to look out at these flowers, these trees, and that magnificent ocean!”
Alice turned radiant blue eyes on her friend and grinned. “Same trees, same ocean as yesterday,” she said with a teasing lilt. “Same Miss Philosopher. But we need to get going.” Tossing her auburn hair, she tugged at Annie’s hand.
“OK, OK,” Annie said, rising. “I’ll just get my purse and project bag.” She went inside, Alice following close on her heels.
“Each time I’m in here, I have to marvel at how you’ve done wonders with Grey Gables, Annie.” Alice crossed her arms over her pale blue shirt and cast admiring glances around the house. “Inside and out! Your grandmother would be so pleased!”
“Well, between the work Wally has done and the work I have done, I guess it looks presentable,” she said, scooping up a newspaper and dropping it into the magazine basket. “But you were the one who papered all those hand-cut roses over the vanity in the bathroom.”
“It was no picnic either, believe me!” Alice said in mock distaste, and then added, “You’ve made Grey Gables a showplace that would bring a pretty price. Not that I think you should … well … sell it, I mean.” She detoured into the living room. “I’ve gotten used to having you right next door!”
Annie looked at her friend fondly, recalling that spring she had thought Alice might leave to join her photographer friend, Jim Parker. But the two had shared an on-again, off-again romance, and Alice was still entrenched in the carriage house that was originally part of the Grey Gables grounds. She gave her friend a quick wink. “You just want someone to help you with your parties! Some of them are no picnic either, you know!”
“Is that a new table by the window?” Alice asked.
“That, my dear, is Gram’s old Pembroke drop leaf that Wally worked on for me. It must have been quite a chore to restore the inlay.”
“Even has a Hepplewhite pull,” Alice murmured. “That Wally is a genius with his hands.”
“He is that,” Annie agreed, “and a sensitive guy too. Did you know he carries binoculars in his tool chest? He’s taken to watching birds, especially when he goes fishing. I bet he could craft wooden birds as well as model boats.”
“You got him started on that. I bought one the other day for my nephew in San Diego.” Alice stepped further into the room, continued her appraising glances. “Betsy’s pillows look great against that dark green sofa cover. Very chic! But maybe you ought to put them under lock and key, now that Betsy Originals are in such demand. That one with the orange poppies is absolutely to die for!”