Fear of Falling. Cindi Myers
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“Sure.” Laura raised her head, smiling now. “The Young Artists’ Endowment Fund has asked for a donation for their charity auction.” She led the way to her desk and pulled up a file on the computer. “We’re sending a painting, so I have to find out which painting, then arrange for shipping and follow up to make sure we receive the proper paperwork for tax purposes.”
“Does Sartain often donate to charities?”
“Sometimes. He has a few causes he supports.” She glanced at Natalie. “He’s really a very generous man. What you saw before—that outburst—that’s just because his art is so important to him.”
Did she detect a note of adoration in Laura’s voice? Maybe her earlier ice princess routine was merely a cover for a serious crush on their employer. But was Sartain really generous? Not as self-centered as she’d thought?
“How was your tour of the castle?” Laura asked.
“It was all right.” Natalie was careful to keep her expression neutral. “It’s an impressive place.”
“Did he show you the dungeon?”
She started. Had someone seen them going in there, and perhaps wondered why they’d lingered so long? But Laura’s expression showed only mild curiosity.
“I take it it’s a regular stop on the tour.” Natalie made a face. “We were there when the lights went out.”
“There was a huge crash of thunder and they went out. Fortunately, the computers are on battery backup, so we didn’t lose anything.”
“Are there frequent power outages here?”
Laura shrugged. “Sometimes. When it storms. The electric co-op usually gets things up and running again quickly.”
“That’s good to know.” Natalie suppressed a shudder. She’d have to be sure to have a flashlight and candles within easy reach in her room. And maybe she’d refill the tranquilizers the doctor had prescribed. She didn’t like to take them, but sometimes that was the only way to keep the panic at bay.
“It’s almost lunchtime,” Laura said. “Would you like to eat together?”
Natalie checked her watch and was surprised to see it was a quarter to twelve. “I didn’t even think about lunch. I don’t guess you go out to eat much here, do you?”
Laura shook her head. “We don’t have to. The castle has a cook. And we have a covered patio with a gorgeous view.” She led the way to the combination break room/kitchen. “The cook keeps salad and sandwich fixings in here. And if you want anything special, you can call in an order to the kitchen and someone will deliver it here at lunchtime.”
“The perks of being wealthy,” Natalie said.
“The perks of working for someone who’s wealthy.” Laura opened the refrigerator and studied the contents. “How does salad sound? There’s chicken caesar today.”
“That sounds great,” Natalie said. She followed Laura out to a sheltered patio. The rain had stopped, and the clouds had parted to reveal a breathtaking view of a sun-washed valley framed by snow-capped peaks. “It looks like a postcard,” Natalie said.
“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” Laura pulled two chairs up to a wrought-iron table and gestured for Natalie to sit. “I’ve seen deer and elk in the valley. And in the fall the aspens are spectacular.”
“Do you live here at the castle, too?” Natalie asked as Laura split the salad between two plates.
Laura shook her head. “Not in the castle like you. I’m in what I guess was meant to be a gardener’s cottage, at the back of the property. It’s tiny, but private.”
“How long have you worked for Sartain?” Natalie asked.
“Five months. I heard through another artist that Sartain was looking for office help and I applied for the job before it was even advertised.”
“Does he often have temper tantrums like the one I witnessed this morning?”
Laura giggled. “Temper tantrums? That’s a good way to describe them, I guess.”
“Talented, wealthy men and two-year-olds often have about the same level of self-control, I’ve noticed.” An acclaimed Chinese acrobat had spent one season with the Cirque du Paris. Having been pampered and catered to in his homeland, he continually chafed under the company’s strict rules. No one had been sorry to see him depart at the end of that year’s tour.
“I’d say he loses his temper over something about once a week,” Laura said. “Usually I shrug it off. I know he doesn’t mean anything by it. It’s only because he’s so passionate about his work.”
There was that adoring note again. Natalie picked at her salad. “That doesn’t give him the right to take his frustrations out on you,” she said.
“I guess not.” Laura’s eyes met Natalie’s. “Thank you for standing up for me this morning. He’s never apologized to anyone before.”
“Part of my job is to see that he acts like an adult about these things.” She frowned. “I’m supposed to bring some discipline into his life.”
“Then I’m really glad I didn’t get your job. The artists I’ve met don’t believe in discipline.”
“Do you know many artists?”
Laura shrugged. “A few. None as famous as Sartain. It’s a real privilege to get to work with him, don’t you think?”
“I suppose.”
“Of course, our little office probably seems pretty tame to you. Doug told me you worked with the Cirque du Paris. I saw a show once. It was incredible. What did you do there?”
“I was a high-trapeze performer. Not a star, but last season I worked with another woman and two men on one of the highlight pieces.” Her picture had been featured on one of the posters. Gigi had been torn between maternal pride and professional jealousy. In her younger years, Gigi’s face and figure had appeared regularly in advertisements for the show, but that had been seasons ago.
She pulled herself from her reverie, aware that Laura had been talking to her. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“I asked what you thought of Sartain.”
“He’s a very talented artist. I see why his work sells so well.”
“I meant what did you think of him as a man. Some women think he’s very sexy.”
“He’s very good-looking. I also think he knows it and uses that to his advantage.” More than looks, Sartain had an animal sensuality that was undeniably attractive.
“He and I used to be lovers, you know. When I first came here.”
“Oh?” Natalie shifted in her chair, an uncomfortable tightness in her chest. “Used to be?”
“We