Flirting with Disaster (21 page)

Maggie couldn't take another minute of uncertainty. “Dammit, let's stop speculating. We'll know what happened soon enough.”

Josh drove the short distance to Images at a far calmer pace than suited Maggie. She would have broken speed limits. When he pulled to the curb, she was out of the truck before he'd even cut the engine. There were two police cars on the street and several officers standing on the sidewalk.

“Where's Ellie?” she demanded.

“If that's your employee, she's inside with the detective trying to make a list of what's missing and giving him some preliminary notes on the value of what's damaged,” an officer told her.

Maggie rushed inside, relieved that Josh had stayed behind to talk to the police. As soon as she stepped across the threshold, though, she came to a screeching halt, her heart lodged in her throat.

“Oh, my God,” she whispered and swayed. She wasn't sure how he'd gotten there so quickly, but she felt Josh's arm circle her waist to steady her, even as he uttered a heartfelt curse of his own.

“Hang in there, Maggie. Take a deep breath,” he advised. “It's going to be okay.”

“How can you say that?” There was red paint everywhere, on the oils and watercolors and sculptures, all over her great-grandmother's antiques. It was splattered on the walls and dripped over the glass-fronted counter where delicate blown-glass items had been displayed. The case's glass had been shattered and thousands of dollars' worth of art glass had been smashed on the floor. The colorful shards were everywhere.

Ellie spotted Maggie just then and ran across the gallery. “I'm so sorry,” she said, folding Maggie into a fierce embrace, then bursting into tears. “It's my fault. It's all my fault.”

“Shh! Stop it. It is not your fault,” Maggie soothed. Ellie's distress, thankfully, gave her something to focus on besides the mess.

While she comforted Ellie, Josh went over to speak to the detective Ellie had been with. Now the two men turned and crossed the gallery to Maggie.

“Ms. Forsythe?” the man asked. “I'm Detective Dan Ryan. We've gotten a preliminary list of everything that's damaged and its approximate value from your employee, but I'd appreciate it if you could go over it with me, make sure we didn't miss anything.”

“Of course,” she said at once. She glanced at Ellie. “What about the vault? Did the vandals get in there?”

Ellie frowned at her. “It wasn't vandals, Maggie. You know it wasn't.”

“We don't know that,” Maggie said staunchly.

“Of course we do,” Ellie retorted with absolute conviction. “I've already told the police about Brian.”

“He threatened to ruin my reputation, not destroy this place,” Maggie said, clinging to one last straw.

“Things changed,” Ellie said wearily. “He and I had another fight last night. He came by here just as I was closing and realized I was painting here instead of at home. He added up two and two and concluded that you hadn't canceled the show, after all. He went on a rampage then about me not taking him seriously when he said he'd destroy you.”

“Why didn't you call the police right then?” Josh asked.

“Because he left,” Ellie said. “He just walked out and slammed the door behind him. I was too shaken to work, so I locked up and left right after that.”

“Did you turn on the alarm?” Josh asked.

“I thought I had, but maybe I didn't,” she admitted, looking miserable. “It would have alerted the police when he broke in, so I must not have.”

Maggie felt sorry for her. She was beating herself up for the actions of that despicable man. “Ellie, you are not to blame for any of this. If it turns out to have been Brian who broke in here, and right now we don't have one shred of proof that it was,” she said with a pointed look at Josh and the detective, “then Brian's the one to blame, not you.”

“I should have stopped painting the minute he made the first threat,” Ellie insisted. “I should have told you that I wouldn't do a show.”

“And allowed a bully like that to win?” Maggie demanded indignantly. “You couldn't allow that jealous creep to rob you of something that matters to you, something for which you have such extraordinary talent.”

“At least all these beautiful things wouldn't be ruined,” Ellie argued.

“Speculating and casting blame isn't getting us anywhere. I need to start putting some solid evidence together. I need to know everything the two of you know about Brian Garrison,” the detective said. “In the meantime, Ms. Forsythe, why don't you take a look in your vault and make sure everything there is okay.”

Maggie nodded, relieved to be away from Ellie's self-recriminations for a moment. She was also grateful for Josh's steadying presence beside her as she went into the back. The vault was still securely locked, but she opened it and checked the contents just to be sure everything was in place and undamaged.

“No one got in here,” she confirmed to Detective Ryan. “If you'll show me the list that Ellie's given you of everything damaged out front, I'll confirm the value for you. I have my inventories here in my office.”

“Thanks, I'd appreciate it,” he said, pulling a chair up beside her desk.

“Can I speak to you first?” Josh asked the detective, drawing him aside as Maggie sat down at her desk.

She began retrieving inventory file folders from a drawer while they talked, grateful to have a few minutes to gather her composure without having to look at all the destruction out front.

For the next hour Maggie went over the list with Detective Ryan, concentrating on the black-and-white figures of the loss, rather than the emotional impact of walking in to find the extent to which the gallery had been vandalized.

When they emerged eventually, she found Ellie seated behind the sales desk, tears still streaming down her face. There was no sign of Josh.

“Sweetie, why don't you go home and get some rest,” she suggested. “This has been hard on you and you've been here for hours.”

“I need to stay and help you clean up,” Ellie insisted.

“It doesn't have to get done right this second. I probably need to get our insurance agent in here before we touch a thing,” Maggie said.

“He's already here with an insurance adjuster.” Ellie gestured across the room to where the Forsythe family's insurance agent, Dick Graves, was snapping pictures of the damage. “Josh asked me if I knew who to call. I guess it pays to be with an agent you've known forever. Mr. Graves said he'd make the arrangements for an adjuster and be here right away. They got here about ten minutes ago.”

Maggie regarded them with relief. After all those years and exorbitant premiums, she supposed Graves didn't mind being rousted out of bed on a Sunday morning.

“That's wonderful,” she told Ellie. “They can finish up today and we'll worry about cleanup tomorrow. Please go home. I'm worried about you. You look exhausted.”

“I'm staying,” Ellie said stubbornly. “And Vicki's coming in. She should be here in five or ten minutes.”

“You called Vicki?”

“Of course I did. She might not act like it, but she cares about this place, too,” Ellie said. “Besides, Josh said he'd be back soon with help, so Vicki and I need to be here.”

Maggie stared at her. “Help?”

Before Ellie could explain, the front door opened and people began streaming in, led by Nadine.

“What are you doing here?” Maggie asked as Nadine enfolded her in a hug.

“We're here to help with the cleanup, of course,” Amanda said.

“Josh called me and told me what had happened,” Nadine explained. “I called Amanda and a couple of other folks. They called more people.”

To Maggie's shock, George Winslow appeared, carrying a couple of ladders. “Your folks will be here soon,” he announced.

Maggie stared at him, dumbfounded. “My folks?”

He grinned at her reaction. “I called them, since I figured you wouldn't have had time to do it. Won't kill 'em to miss church one Sunday. Caleb said he'd say a prayer for all us lost souls over here and then be here himself right after the service ends.”

Maggie couldn't quite believe that all of these people had turned out here practically at the crack of dawn on a Sunday morning. The idea of her folks walking in here prepared to scrub walls and sweep up debris was even more astonishing. Her mother was going to be sick at heart when she saw the damage done to Great-Grandmother's furniture. Maggie could barely stomach it herself.

She looked around for Josh to thank him for setting all of this in motion, but there was no sign of him. “Where's Josh now?”

“Out picking up paint and cleaning supplies,” Nadine said. “Cord and Dinah went with him. They should be here any minute.”

Maggie turned to Detective Ryan. “Is this okay? Can we get to work already?”

“Your friend cleared it with me before he took off. Looks like you have yourself some pretty amazing friends, Ms. Forsythe. I'd be concentrating on that and let me worry about figuring out who's behind the vandalism. If it has anything to do with this Brian person, we'll nail him.”

“You're welcome to track down the bad guy, Detective,” Maggie assured him. “But when you have him in custody, I want to know so I can rip his heart out.”

“Something tells me you actually mean that,” he said, regarding her with a steady gaze. “So let me give you some advice. Maybe it would be best if you let the justice system deal with whoever's responsible.”

Maggie had always been a great believer in the American justice system, but at the moment she was heartily in favor of getting some very personal revenge. She realized she'd better keep that to herself.

“We are going to need to take some of this stuff in for evidence,” the detective told her. “I'll have my men take away what we need and make sure we have pictures of the rest. Then you all can get to work putting this place back in shape. With this many people helping, you should be ready to open for business in a few days.”

“Thanks,” Maggie said, then sank onto a chair, her legs once again unsteady as she surveyed the daunting task ahead. Then she looked around the room at all the willing workers who'd shown up thanks to Josh's distress call to Nadine and her immediate rush to help. Surrounded by friends like this, she couldn't help feeling she was more blessed than cursed this morning.

 

Josh wanted to track down Brian and strangle him with his bare hands. Only concentrating on the cleanup and Maggie's needs had kept him from doing just that.

“Leave it to the police,” Cord said, apparently reading his grim expression correctly.

“Something tells me Maggie's heard the same thing this morning,” Josh said, glancing across the gallery to where she was huddled with Dinah, her expression dark and forbidding. “You don't think she'll do anything crazy, do you?”

Cord grimaced. “Well, we
are
talking about Maggie…so I think we need to make sure she's otherwise occupied till she cools down.”

“I think we can count on keeping her busy for the next couple of days getting this place back into shape. I thought we could whip through here in a day with all this help, but the destruction is worse than I realized,” Josh said. “This might distract her till midweek, but what do we do after that?”

Cord looked at him. “I'm sure if you use your imagination, you can come up with something. Take her out of town. A few days over on Sullivan's Island or down in Savannah ought to distract her.”

“And you think,” Josh said dubiously, “she'd actually agree to go away with me when everything in her life is in turmoil?”

“She will if you make the offer interesting enough,” Cord assured him. “Think you're up to it?”

Josh thought about how difficult it had been to get Maggie to accept a date with him for drinks. Getting her to agree to a trip seemed beyond his capabilities.

Then, again, he concluded thoughtfully, maybe he could make her think the getaway was her idea. That had worked out pretty well when it came to getting into her bed. She'd certainly snatched the initiative for that right out of his hands.

“I'll do what I can,” he told Cord eventually.

It was a damn good thing he was so well acquainted with the way Maggie's mind worked. She might not even figure out what was going on till they were on their way to the beach.

Of course, the minute she did add up two and two, she'd probably make him pay, but that might just liven up the trip in some unexpected ways.

N
adine was steadying a ladder for George, but her gaze was on Josh and Maggie, who seemed to be having some sort of heated discussion across the gallery.

“Do you think those two have any idea what's going on between them?” she asked, not really expecting George to reply. How many men wanted to discuss other people's relationships?

To her surprise George descended the ladder and followed the direction of her gaze.

“You talking about your son and Maggie?”

She nodded.

“Seems to me there are enough sparks flying between those two to light a bonfire,” George said. “What makes you think they don't see that themselves?”

“I know my son. He's a real smart guy and I love him to pieces, but I'm not sure Josh would recognize love if it came up and bit him in the butt. He has a pretty jaded view of it, thanks to me.”

George's gaze narrowed. “You do that a lot, you know.”

“What?”

“Blame yourself for the things Josh does or doesn't do.”

“Well, who else should I blame?” Nadine asked. It was past time she accepted responsibility for the mistakes she'd made. “I was the one who raised him. At least, I tried. I have to say that there were plenty of times, though, when he was the adult. Josh had to grow up before his time, what with me making a mess of my life every few months, it seemed like.”

“In what way?” George asked, studying her quizzically.

He had a habit of doing that, Nadine had noticed. He looked at her as if she were some strange species of butterfly he had pinned under a microscope. He always appeared bemused, but at least a little bit curious. She imagined that a recitation of her mistakes as a parent would soon erase that curiosity.

“You don't want to know all that ancient history,” she said dismissively. “It's a boring story.”

He gave her a chiding look. “I doubt there's anything about you that could possibly be boring, Nadine. And right this second the past is obviously on your mind, so let's get a cup of that potent coffee Maggie makes and sit a spell,” he suggested, steering her toward Maggie's office where coffee, soda and sandwiches had been set up. “The world won't end if we take a break. Besides, I'm not as agile at the top of a ladder as I used to be. Let one of these young people climb up there and finish painting that molding.”

In the deserted office, Nadine sat on a chair and accepted the cup of coffee George poured for her. “You're a real gentleman, you know that?”

“My mama would be real proud to hear you say that,” he said with a grin that wiped years off his craggy, yet still-handsome face. “There were times she despaired of me ever learning to mind my manners. My wife, God rest her soul, had a similar opinion. Fortunately, she didn't much care about all the spit and polish that some Southern women insist on.”

“I imagine there's a lot of scoundrel left in you,” Nadine teased, enjoying the quick rise of color in his cheeks. Who'd have guessed that she could throw a powerful man like George Winslow off stride? A few weeks ago, who'd have even guessed she'd want to? “Tell me about your wife. You've never mentioned her before.”

“Oh, no you don't. You're not getting away with changing the subject that easily,” he said. He pulled a chair out from behind Maggie's desk and straddled it. “Now tell me why you think you're to blame for anything that your son decides to do or not do when it comes to Maggie?”

Nadine was tempted to push harder for information about his wife, but she could tell from his determined expression that she'd never get away with it.

“I'm not going to forget about your wife, you know,” she warned him.

“Never thought you would,” he said.

“Okay, then, do you want the condensed version or the whole ugly story of my life?”

“Whichever parts you think I need to hear to understand why you get so down on yourself,” he said. “I imagine there's not a parent alive who doesn't feel he's failed his child from time to time, but you seem to carry that burden with you every second.”

“For good reason,” Nadine said candidly. “When I was young and impulsive, I met Josh's daddy. We had ourselves a wild fling when we were little more than teenagers. It's the oldest story in the book, but that doesn't make it any less sad when it happens to you. I got pregnant and we got married. I had my doubts, but Dwayne insisted it was the right thing to do, that no child of his would be born without his daddy's name.”

George nodded sympathetically. “I can understand that. I'd feel the same way.”

“Only trouble was, Dwayne didn't seem to care much whether Josh had an actual daddy around the house. We got a divorce and he took off, so it was Josh and me. It was a struggle, let me tell you. It's not easy raising a baby alone when all you can do are minimum-wage jobs and there's not one penny of child support coming in. More than once, I couldn't pay the rent, and we had to take off before the landlord evicted us. Most of the time, though, I kept a roof over our heads, and working as a waitress helped to feed us.”

“In other words, you did the best you could,” George said. “I don't see anything to be ashamed of in that. Josh ought to admire your strength.”

“I think he does when it comes to that part,” Nadine said honestly. “It was the men I chose that soured his view on me and on love. Every time I met someone new, I always convinced myself I'd finally found a real-life hero, someone who was going to treat me with respect, be a real daddy to Josh. I went into every relationship a believer and came out knowing that I'd just made another awful mistake. And each time, Josh just withdrew a little more into himself. No kid can go through that without wondering if he's to blame, if he's not worthy of being loved. He doesn't understand that it's not about him at all. I'm the one who kept screwing up.”

“Or maybe you just managed to find yourself a string of men who couldn't recognize gold when they had it in the palm of their hand,” George said.

Nadine wanted to bask in the compliment, but she was realistic. “What does it say about me that I kept right on finding the same type of man?”

George shook his head. “I'll tell you something I heard on that Dr. Phil show one day. He said you teach folks how to treat you. I imagine after a time your expectations were pretty low, so these men of yours didn't feel they needed to do much. It surprises me that a woman with so much sass and vinegar could ever get to that point, but it's time to stop selling yourself short, don't you think?”

Nadine wasn't sure whether she was more stunned that George even knew who Dr. Phil was, much less was quoting him, or that he had the insight to understand what had gone wrong in her relationships. Over time her expectations had sunk lower than a pig's belly; it had only taken a winsome smile to charm her and a kind word to make her think she'd finally found the right man.

“You're probably onto something,” she told George. “And you know what's really funny? It's Josh who's helped me to turn things around in terms of how I think about myself. When I came back here looking for a handout so I could get back on my feet, he insisted on me working on Amanda's house. I've made some real friends the last couple of months and discovered what I'm capable of.”

She grinned at George. “I even stood up to someone who needed to be told a thing or two. When that house is finished and I move on, I don't think I'll ever sell myself short again.”

George regarded her with unmistakable dismay. “What are you talking about, Nadine? You can't move on. You just said yourself that you've made real friends here. Why would you leave?”

“Because it's what I do,” she said simply, accepting that some patterns were never likely to change. She didn't know anything about putting down roots. Neither, sadly, did Josh, which was why she despaired of him finding happiness with Maggie, who was all about roots and family history, even though she hadn't found the right man yet.

George grabbed her shoulders and looked into her eyes. “It's what you
used
to do,” he said emphatically. “Now you stay and make things work right here.”

“Josh isn't going to want me underfoot forever,” she protested.

George shook his head. “You don't have to live with your son,” he said impatiently. “We'll find you your own place.”

“And how do you propose I pay for it?”

“If you need a job, we'll find one for you.”

He said it with such confidence that Nadine almost believed it was a real possibility. Would she want to stay even if she could? She peered through the doorway into the main room of the gallery and spotted Amanda, Caleb, Josh and Maggie. Even Juliette Forsythe had been kind to her earlier today and thanked her for pulling together all these people to help Maggie. She and Juliette couldn't have had more dissimilar backgrounds, but this romance blossoming between their kids gave them something in common.

“Well?” George prodded. “Are you going to forget about this ridiculous idea of leaving town?”

She studied him curiously. “Why does it matter so much to you whether I go or stay? I thought I was nothing but a thorn in your side.”

The question seemed to fluster him. “Isn't that obvious?”

“Not to me. I just told you, I'm the one whose instincts about men can't be trusted.”

He leaned forward then and pressed a kiss to her lips, then sat back. “Does that tell you anything?”

She looked into his eyes and saw uncertainty and hope and determination. It was a heady combination, especially coming from a man whose respectability couldn't be questioned. “Why me, George?”

“Why not you?” he countered in a way that bolstered her self-respect by several notches.

Indeed, Nadine thought, why
not
her? There was promise in that kiss, but she'd learned not to trust promises.

“I don't suppose I have to make any decisions right away,” she told him. “It'll be weeks before the house is finished.”

“Then I'll just have to pull out all the stops and see what I can come up with to persuade you to stay,” he said. “I used to be real good at closing business deals. I'm a little out of practice, but let's see what I can accomplish in the romance department. I imagine I can get the hang of it.”

She touched his cheek. He hadn't shaved this morning and the slightly disreputable look suited him. He didn't seem nearly as intimidating as he usually did. “It'll certainly be flattering to have you try.”

 

Maggie was arguing with Josh about his technique for removing the paint from Great-Grandmother Juliette's desk when she spotted Nadine and George emerging from her office looking flushed and awfully pleased with themselves. “Will you look at those two?” she murmured.

Josh turned to follow the direction of her gaze. “Dammit, not again!”

She frowned at his reaction. “You don't approve of your mother and George getting friendly?”

“I don't imagine it matters whether I approve or not. Nadine will do whatever the hell she wants to do and wind up getting hurt yet again. No man with a background like George Winslow's is going to be serious about Nadine.”

“You're not giving her or George much credit,” Maggie chided.

“Look, I can't blame George for latching on to whatever she's offering. Even
I
can see Nadine's appeal, though saying that about my own mother makes me cringe. It's Nadine. Why the hell hasn't she learned anything after all these years and all these mistakes? Why would she set herself up for heartache?”

“I think she's brave,” Maggie said wistfully.

“Why? Because she repeatedly sets out to get her heart broken?”

“No, she repeatedly opens herself up to the possibility of love. You ought to admire that. Aren't you the one who accused me of being too closed off and not letting anybody in? Your mother's the exact opposite. Maybe she could teach me a thing or two.”

“If you're looking for lessons, find somebody who's actually in a successful relationship,” Josh advised. “Dinah, maybe. She and Cord seem ecstatic.”

“They are disgustingly ecstatic,” Maggie confirmed. “I'm not sure anybody can copy that.”

His eyebrows rose. “Don't you even want to try?”

“Do you?”

“I don't know. Maybe. I think they've got a one-in-a-million thing, though.” he said. “The rest of us are probably doomed to ordinary.”

Maggie poked him in the ribs. “Are you saying sex with me is ordinary?”

“There you go mixing up sex and love again,” he accused. “Two different things.”

“Not always,” Maggie said, again wistful. Sometimes lately, she had a feeling both were within her grasp if only she were brave enough to reach out and grab on tight. She couldn't help wondering if Josh ever felt the same way, but she was too scared to ask.

Instead, she forced her attention back to the desk. “I think we should send this down to Savannah to a professional furniture-restoration expert I know.”

Josh sighed heavily. “What is it you think I do for a living?”

“Build things,” she said, mostly because she knew it annoyed him to have his expertise diminished that way.

“I do historic renovation,” he corrected patiently. “If you don't trust me, ask Cord. He seems to believe I'm reasonably skilled at what I do.”

“You renovate buildings,” she retorted. “We're talking about my great-grandmother's antique desk. I don't want to take any chances.”

Josh rolled his eyes. “Okay, fine. We'll take it to Savannah.”

She regarded him with surprise. The capitulation was almost too easy. “Just like that? You're caving in?”

He shrugged. “I know the desk has great sentimental value to you. If you'd feel better having it restored by someone you know and trust, it's okay with me,” he said magnanimously. “We can drive it down tomorrow. I have some people I need to see down there anyway.” He grinned at her. “Maybe this expert of yours can teach me some new techniques while we're at it. I'm always open to new ideas.”