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It’s in that moment that Katie chooses to join us, smiling at us all, her greeting first directed at Josh and Faith before she focuses fully on me. “Nick Rogers,” she says, offering me her hand. “Thank you for being so very generous.”
“It’s a special painting,” I say, shaking her hand. “It caught me off guard, but in a good way. I had to have it.”
“Chris told me when he called about your ticket that you’d understand the painting in ways others would not.”
“Rebecca not only means something to me,” I say in confirmation. “But I was on the beach the night that painting depicts.”
“You knew the woman who inspired the painting?” Faith asks.
“I knew her,” I say, thinking of the many times I saw Rebecca with my client in what is now my sex club. She was his. He just didn’t know how much he wanted her to be his. But that isn’t information for Faith or anyone else. “I was involved in the investigation into her disappearance and represented someone close to her.”
Josh jumps on that. “Someone suspected of murdering her?”
“Rebecca was killed by a woman who was jealous of my client’s love for her,” I say.
“Thrown in the sea,” Katie supplies. “Chris’s wife found her journals, and ultimately she was a key to solving the crime.”
“Really?” Faith says. “That’s…incredible. How must she feel being a part of such a tragedy?”
“She feels like she knows her,” Katie says. “Chris did know Rebecca, and it guts them both that she’s gone. Though, I admit, I keep hoping she’ll show up one day, and we’ll find out she’s been on some island somewhere, living life well.”
“We all do,” I agree, “including everyone on that beach that night who didn’t know her but knew her story.”
“Indeed,” Katie agrees. “Indeed.” She inhales. “Onto brighter topics.” She turns to Faith while Josh slips away, hopefully shamed into staying away. “Faith,” Katie says, taking her hand and patting it. “You are so very talented. We’re honored to have your work here.”
“Thank you,” Faith says. “I’m honored to have it here.”
“Your father would be proud,” she says. “Reidwasproud of you.”
I watch Faith’s delicate little brow furrow. “You knew my father?”
“I did,” she says. “And your mother. Our neighbors are like family. We loved hearing your father tell stories about the many Reid Winters before him. We actually used to get together with them when you were a young girl.”
I watch confusion slide over Faith’s face. “But I thought you were competitors. My mother said—”
“We were competitors? I mean, technically yes, but variety is the spice of life. It’s not us or you.”
“I’m very confused right now. My father—”
“Loved your mother very much, and we had a falling-out with your mother before you even hit your teen years. But Reid and Mike spoke quite frequently. And just so you know, my husband wanted to be here tonight, but we had a private party at the winery that got a little rowdy. Perhaps you can come by for dinner one night.” She glances at me. “With you, of course.”
A woman in a suit dress, clearly not here for the party, appears beside us, her attention on Katie. “Sorry, Katie, but I have a situation.”
“What is it, Laura?”
“The bidder who lost the auction insists that Mr. Rogers cash out before she leaves.”
Katie flushes with obvious embarrassment. “That’s inappropriate.”
“It’s perfectly fine,” I say. “I’ll cash out now.”
“It’s not necessary,” Katie assures me.
“It’s really not a problem,” I say, looking at Laura. “Where’s the cashier?”
“I can help you,” she says.
I glance at Katie. “I’ll calm the beast in red for you.” I refocus on Faith. “I’ll be right back.”
