Identity Crisis (13 page)

“Saw a brandy decanter in the den.”

“It’s not even noon.”

“Then I’ll just do a shot.” Her phone rang; it was Rachel. She glanced over at Ethan, walking to the side of the porch. “I need to take this.”

He nodded and walked inside as she answered the call.

“We’ve got a buyer for
Trapeze Artist
,” Rachel said excitedly. “How great is that? He called before we even opened.”

Olivia’s stomach clenched. She’d never returned the potential buyer’s voicemails over the past few days. Not because she thought the painting was a forgery — she’d just been busy.

She plastered on a smile and tried to sound enthusiastic. “Yeah, that’s great.”

If the painting was authentic.

But she couldn’t tell Rachel not to sell it. All she could do at this point was cross her fingers and pray. To have faith, like Ethan had said. To believe that her dad had loved her and would never have put her life or career in jeopardy. She had to hang onto that belief.

“Some guy’s standing outside the door waiting for me to open. Talk about anxious. Think I’m about to make another sale. Talk to you later.” Rachel disconnected.

The eerie feeling crawling across Olivia’s skin intensified when she noticed the sky over the lake had turned an ominous gritty brown color. A gust of wind blew sand up in her eyes and she blinked rapidly, her eyes watering. Several speedboats zipped across the lake heading toward shore. The two little girls were still splashing around in the water while the woman soaked up the rays hidden behind the surreal looking sky.

Olivia walked inside.

“I’m in the dining room,” Ethan called out.

She entered the dining room to find Kate and Roger with Ethan.

“Congratulations!” Kate and Roger yelled out, gesturing to a small chocolate frosted cake in the middle of the table that read
Happy 1st Anniversary
. A candle flickered in the center of the cake. A bottle of champagne sat in an ice bucket next to it.

“Tracy mentioned you were celebrating your anniversary,” Kate said. “I hope you like chocolate cake.” She walked over and gave Olivia a big hug.

Olivia choked down the lump of emotion in her throat and fought back the tears flirting with the rims of her eyes. “I love chocolate,” she muttered.

Roger shook Ethan’s hand. “Congratulations and here’s to many more years together. Hopefully you’ll celebrate your second anniversary with us next year.”

“Thanks,” Ethan said.

“Now, blow out the candle together you two,” Kate said. “It’s good luck.”

Ethan placed his hand on Olivia’s back, undoubtedly noticing her teary-eyed gaze. They blew out the candle.

“I hope you get your wish,” Kate said.

“I think I already did.” No longer able to contain her emotions, a tear slipped down Olivia’s cheek. “Thank you.” She turned and bolted from the room and out the front door. She didn’t stop until she got to the lake in front of their cottage.

“Are you okay?” Ethan asked, walking up.

She shook her head, tears flowing down her cheeks. Ethan wrapped his arms around her, drawing her to him. She molded against his chest, crying.

He smoothed a hand over her hair. “It’ll be okay.”

She choked back a sob. “Nobody has ever made me a cake before.” Between Ethan caressing her hair, and the soothing calmness of his voice, she began to relax. She reluctantly drew back, not wanting to leave the warmth of his arms. “My dad always took me out to eat for my birthday, and I had chocolate birthday cake, but nobody has ever made me one. You know how often I dreamed of having a grandma to bake for me? Of having a normal family life? I just celebrated a special occasion with my grandparents. Even though it’s not really our anniversary, I’ve envisioned this moment forever.”

He brushed a thumb gently across her cheek, wiping away the moisture. “And you’ll celebrate many more occasions with them.”

She inhaled a deep, calming breath. “I hope so.”

“You will.”

“It’s not just the cake, it’s everything. My emotions are all over the place.”

“That’s to be expected.”

She smiled faintly. “Thanks.”

“Not a problem.”

“Not just for making me feel better, but thanks for bringing me here. I honestly don’t know if I’d ever have come if it wasn’t for you.”

“You’d have come eventually.”

“I’m not so sure. So thanks.”

He nodded. “You’re welcome.”

They headed back to the house and found Kate and Roger still in the dining room.

“I’m so sorry that upset you,” Kate said.

“No, I’m sorry. I just lost … someone really close and I’m a bit emotional.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, dear.”

A guy came running into the house. Tall, blond, and tan, he looked thirtyish and like he spent his summers on the lake.

“What’s wrong, Jack?” Roger asked.

“Tornado touched down in the next county over. Appears to be heading this way. Got to get everyone in the cottages to the basement. I’ll go strap down the canoes. Can you grab Megan?”

“I’ll get her.” Roger raced out of the house behind Jack.

“I’m going to go grab a few things upstairs,” Kate said. “You two head to the basement.”

Olivia turned to Ethan. “A tornado? I’ve never been in a tornado.” Her heart raced. She could only recall a handful of tornado warnings in the Bay area.

Ethan placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and gazed deep into her eyes. “It’ll be fine. Even if one touched down a county away, it’s unlikely it’ll hit here. I’ll help Roger. You run up and help Kate. Can you stay calm for Kate’s sake?”

She nodded. “I’ll be okay.”

She raced upstairs. Kate was dumping folded clothes out of a laundry basket and onto the floor. She snagged framed photos off the dresser and stacked them in the basket, including the wedding photo Olivia had of her parents and grandparents, and a family portrait of Olivia and her parents taken when she was maybe three. It was a good sign that Kate hadn’t packed away the photos, attempting to forget about them.

A gust of wind rattled the tops of the windows and sucked the lace curtains against the screens. A tornado siren blared in the distance, ratcheting Olivia’s panic level up a notch.

“We need to head to the basement,” Olivia said.

“You go on ahead. I’m not gonna lose all my memories in a blasted storm. Besides my family, that’s all that really matters.”

Unwilling to go to the basement without Kate, Olivia helped her snatch photos off the blue floral papered walls. Kate hurried over to the closet and stood on her tiptoes, reaching for a box on the top shelf. The box toppled off the shelf, the contents dumping onto the floor. Frazzled, Kate crouched down to gather up everything. Olivia joined her. The box contained dozens of sealed letters and cards addressed to a U.S. Marshals office in D.C., along with several opened ones addressed to Kate with a post office box in D.C. for a return address. The opened ones were likely from Olivia’s dad.

Kate had written to her son, undoubtedly hoping he’d one day change his mind and resume correspondence. The letters probably read like a journal of their lives here. All the highlights Olivia had missed. Olivia wished Kate would look away, enabling her to slip a few letters in her pocket.

Olivia heaved the packed laundry basket off the floor. On the way out the door, Kate snatched a rosary from the wooden jewelry box on the dresser.

They headed down the stairs, and in the foyer Kate insisted on taking the basket. “I’m fine. Go get your valuables.”

Spreading her dad’s remains over the lake seemed appropriate, but who knew where they’d end up if they were whisked off in a tornado. She flew out the door, and the wind whipped her hair in her eyes and pine needles against her face. Roger was running back from the cottages, nobody following him. Everyone was likely on the lakes or in town shopping. He scurried past the front porch toward the mini-golf course and canoe rentals. Olivia ran to the cottage and grabbed her dad’s urn and her laptop bag. His urn looked more like a marble sculpture, so doubtful anyone would question it. Right now, she really didn’t give a rip about her suitcase packed with designer clothes. She headed back toward the house, pausing by their SUV.

Her dad’s paintings.

A red car came barreling into the parking lot. It stopped and Tracy flew out. “Where’s Megan?” she hollered, running up to Olivia.

Olivia thought back to the two little girls in the water. “She’s inside with Kate.”

Tracy rushed past her toward the inn.

Olivia glanced over at the SUV and turned to head toward the inn.

“Take the paintings,” Ethan said, materializing.

“I don’t want them. I just didn’t want anyone else to have them.”

“Take them.”

He unlocked the back hatch, and popped it open. He grabbed the paintings wrapped in cardboard. The car keys slipped from his hand and onto the ground. She scooped up the keys. They raced toward the inn.

Hopefully the Victorian house in which the museum was located had a basement. Right now, she didn’t care if her family had sold her dad’s paintings and condoned his crime. She just wanted them to be safe.

• • •

For the next half hour, Roger sat at a desk with the radio blaring. Kate played Barbies with Megan on the carpet in the corner. Ethan and Olivia sat on the couch while Tracy’s husband Jack sat in an overstuffed upholstered chair and she sat on the chair arm relaxing against him.

Kate had grabbed several jars of candy and Tracy raided the Gummy Bears. “We always got Gummy Bears when we came to Grandma’s house. If I scraped my knee, I got Gummy Bears. If Billy Olson looked up my skirt at school, which he always did, I got some. They always made things better.”

Olivia smiled knowingly. In third grade, Ryan Simpson had called her four-eyes when she’d started wearing glasses for reading. She’d come home and polished off a half a jar of Gummy Bears. They’d been her comfort food as long as she could remember. Her dad had always kept a jar in the house. Guess maybe she did share a few traditions with her family.

Tracy handed Olivia the jar, and Olivia scooped out some bears. They’d never made it to the grocery store, sidetracked by the forgery museum.

“Hope the golf course is okay,” Jack said.

“Jack ran the mini-golf course one summer when we were in high school. That’s when we hooked up.”

Olivia pictured her and Tracy giggling and talking about the hot guy running the golf course. If they’d grown up together, they probably would have stayed up nights styling each other’s hair and gossiping about boys and fad diets.

“Yeah, she used to prance around in her little bikini playing mini-golf, trying to get me to notice her. It was a hot pink bikini held together with little strings. I still remember the first time I untied those strings.”

“Jack.” Tracy gave him a playful swat, glancing over at Megan, making sure she wasn’t listening. “I’m sure they don’t want to hear about your horny teen years.”

“Hell, I’m still horny for you after seventeen years.” He gave Tracy a suggestive grin.

Olivia couldn’t imagine having been with a guy for that long. Although Tracy grew up in a small town and lacked what Olivia would consider a fulfilling career, she couldn’t help but envy her. She seemed truly happy. If Tracy lost her job or her house in a tornado, she’d still have Jack and Megan. Two days ago, outside of work, the only thing Olivia had to show for herself was her condo. If she’d lost that in an earthquake, she’d have had nothing. Now, she had a family. If she ever revealed her true identity.

“Ethan and Olivia are celebrating their one-year anniversary,” Tracy said. “How’d you two meet?”

Ethan and her exchanged glances. They hadn’t prepared a story for how they’d met. They didn’t expect to be put on the spot about it.

“At a museum,” Ethan said, staring into Olivia’s eyes. “I was trying to figure out what the hell a Picasso painting was supposed to be and she clued me in. We went for a glass of wine and stayed at the restaurant until closing.” He grasped hold of Olivia’s hand and pulled her close to him, placing a warm kiss on her cheek. She laced her fingers with his.

She wished they’d met under better circumstances such as that.

“How romantic,” Tracy said.

“You’re getting that sappy look in your eyes, like you’re gonna start talking about chick flicks,” Jack said.

Roger walked over. “Radio just gave an all-clear bulletin. No tornado touched down, but winds gusted up to ninety miles an hour.”

Everyone walked upstairs in silence, apprehensive about what they would encounter. Olivia carried her dad’s urn and her laptop bag slung over her shoulder.

She glanced down at the wrapped paintings in Ethan’s hands. “Thanks for grabbing those.” She wouldn’t have wanted anything to have happened to them and it wasn’t just because she didn’t want them circulating in the art world.

He nodded. “Sure.”

They walked down the hallway, glancing in rooms, everything appearing intact until they reached the porch where a large tree limb stuck through the roof.

“Ah, damn, look at that.” Roger glared at the branch, placing a hand against his chest, rubbing it.

“Don’t get yourself worked up,” Kate warned him. “Isn’t worth another heart attack.”

Another
heart attack?

“Just my acid reflux,” he assured her.

“Needed a new roof pretty soon anyway,” Jack said.

“Just be glad everyone’s okay,” Kate told Roger. “Remember when Wausaukee was leveled? Entire community gone in a matter of minutes. They rebuilt and went on.”

Roger stepped off the porch, eyeing the birdhouse and train car from the squirrel obstacle course lying on the ground. “Hope none of the little fellas got hurt.”

“They’re pretty smart,” Ethan said. “They probably hid out under the porch. Hell, they probably built their own storm shelter.”

Roger let out a hearty chuckle, giving Ethan a pat on the back. “Wouldn’t doubt it.”

Olivia envied Ethan’s knack for saying the right thing at the right time. She never knew what to say except when it came to art.

Stillness hovered over the lake. No boats, water skiers, or canoes in sight. The storm had sucked the life out of nature, leaving wilted flowers and fallen tree branches in its wake. It appeared very little rain had fallen. A tree limb through a cottage window had Roger once again rubbing his chest.