looked at Jed, feeling surreal talking to the man who looked so like Jordan. His features were identical. Only the shorter haircut and different attitude showed her she wasn’t living in some dream or caught up in the past. She could be excused for the awareness that hovered. He looked like someone she loved. Her body had a hard time differentiating between them. But her mind knew. She wasn’t going down that idyllic path a second time.
Their sandwiches came and for a moment conversation was suspended while they began to eat.
“Tell me about yourself,” Jed said a little later. “You’re not from here…I can tell from your accent.”
She laughed and put down the sandwich she was about to take another bite from. “I like to think I have no accent and those from here are the ones with the definite accent. I’m from Iowa. I went to college in Boston, studied fine arts, then looked for the ideal job. I found a less than ideal one in Boston where I had the opportunity to learn all I could about current art, appraising, marketing. I spent weekends and vacations looking for another position. A few years ago I came to Miragansett for a long weekend, fell in love with the place and began to look for a job. Hugo Atkins was kind enough to hire me and here I’ve been ever since.”
“It’s a nice town, what little I’ve seen over the years. My parents lived in Boston until I started college. I’ve been on my own since, and for the most part on assignments out of the country, so I’ve never spent much time here. But I remember my mother raving about Hugo’s gallery. It was one of the best in all of Cape Cod, she once said.”
“I like to think it still is. He died almost two years ago. I was fortunate he left the business to me,” she said quietly.
He raised an eyebrow at that but before he could speak, he heard a rise in the conversation level. Turning, he saw his mother. Maria Brodie wove her way through the tables until she stopped at theirs.
“What are you doing talking to Laura?” she demanded, frowning at her son.
Jed rose politely. “I didn’t expect you to join us for lunch,” he said easily.
“I’m not joining you!”
She glared at Laura. “I called the gallery. Heather told me you had come here to have lunch with Jed. He’s nothing like Jordan. He’s only here to wreak havoc with our lives.”
Jed was glad to see some things never changed—like his mother’s bent for dramatics.
Turning back to her son, she continued, “Haven’t we had enough heartache with Jordan’s death without your interfering with our plans?” Her dramatic tone seemed to expand to include the entire deck and all the people there. Most of the customers at nearby tables stopped eating, fascinated by the scene unfolding.
“I’m only following Jordan’s instructions, Mother. You saw the will, you know this is what he wanted,” Jed said quietly. He knew better than to try to head her off. She loved an audience. Did she realize so many people were watching?
“He wrote that several years ago. Things have changed. He should have left me the paintings, or at least left them to Laura. She was going to be his wife. It’s not fair!”
Laura started to open her mouth, thought better of it and closed it firmly. Glancing around, she saw other diners avidly observing every nuance.
“Maria, please, sit down and join us,” she urged. “People are staring.”
Maria paused, glanced around haughtily and then sat in the chair Jed quickly drew out for her.
She glowered at her son. “You stay away from Jordan’s fiancée. I remember the rivalry you two boys had, always trying to take away each other’s girls. You can’t have Laura. He was happy here, away from your interference. Stay away from Laura!”
“Then shall I find someone else to appraise Jordan’s paintings? We were having lunch to discuss that,” Jed said easily, sitting back in his chair. He wondered if he was going to be able to finish his sandwich. How did his mother live with such high drama all the time? He’d find it wearing.
Maria looked surprised. She glanced at Laura. “Of course I want Laura to appraise his work. She’d do a marvelous job. She loved Jordan and admired his paintings, right dear?”
Laura gave a polite smile but kept quiet, lest she end the months of silence and tell Maria exactly what she’d thought of Jordan, and how she’d ended their engagement twenty-four hours before he crashed his car against that tree. If and when she told, it would not be at a crowded restaurant with potential customers listening avidly.
Actually, she had no plans to bring more heartbreak to Maria. The woman had loved the idea of their marriage. She had been needy after her son’s death, relying on Laura for several things since then. Her heart ached as Maria’s must. She didn’t want to cause any problems for the family.
“I would appraise the paintings to the best of my ability,” she said.
“There!” Maria looked in triumph to Jed. “She’s the best for the job.”
Jed inclined his head slightly, a smile tugging at his lips. “So glad you approve my choice.”
Laura admired his patience. She drew a deep breath, determined not to get upset with Maria this afternoon. She’d had enough turmoil already this day.
“She’s one of the best art dealers in town,” Maria said. She looked at what they were eating. “I’ll have the shrimp, also,” she said.
Jed summoned the waitress and placed an order for his mother.
Maria ignored Jed and looked at Laura. “I planned to stop by the gallery to look at that alcove again. I think it’s too small and not light enough for the best display of his paintings.”
“Mother,” Jed interrupted. “Have you seen the pictures Laura picked out for the show?”
“Not yet.” Maria paused a moment, then took a deep breath. “I cannot bring myself to see my darling boy’s work. I know I will be devastated all over again. It’s all I can do to make it through each day. Planning this retrospective has given me something to focus on. I’m sure opening night will be almost more than I can bear.”
For a moment Laura thought Maria might start crying. She’d been inconsolable at the funeral. Laura had visited a few times since, spacing the visits longer and longer apart. One day they would move back into the realm of gallery owner-artist, but for the time being, she was destined to play the part of grieving fiancée. Half the time she felt like such a fraud. The other half, she genuinely grieved and wished fervently that Jordan Brodie was still alive and she’d never walked in on him that afternoon.
“They are not up to your standards,” Jed said.
Maria waved her hands in the air as if that was of no importance. “Probably not yet. I’ve had twenty years more experience than he had. But the talent was there. Given time, he probably would have been one of the leading painters of the twenty-first century.”
Laura blinked. Maria was really living in a fantasy world. “No,” she said involuntarily.
Maria and Jed looked at her.
“What?”
Laura
