Pieces of You (13 page)

“Where is it, Ian?” Annie had circled through the gallery, making her way toward a room in the back. “You haven’t shipped it already, have you?” Before he could answer, she squealed with pleasure. “There it is, all ten thousand dollars of it.”

“Annie, wait!” Ian loped after her. “You can’t just go in there.”

“Oh, don’t be so stuffy. I’m not going to hurt anything. Come here, Mom, I want you to see this.” Annie disappeared into the room with the disgruntled gallery owner mere steps behind.

What didn’t he want them to see? Ian Debenidos’ large frame hulked over a watercolor of the painting that had to be Annie’s. The piece was well-done, blurred in a lackadaisical swirl of color, but not genius. Definitely not worthy of ten thousand dollars, which only heightened Evie’s gut feeling something wasn’t right.

“You shouldn’t be back here.” The anxiety in Ian’s voice mounted. “I don’t like anyone in my work area.” His black eyes darted to the small desk behind Evie. “You know that, Annie.”

“I just wanted to show my mother.” Annie turned to Evie, the purpose of their mission momentarily forgotten. “This is it.”

Evie detected the wisps of hope in her daughter’s voice. She wanted Evie to tell her the picture
was
exquisite and she
did
possess the gift, worthy of so much more than ten thousand dollars and a secret admirer. Truth or lie? Which should Evie tell? “Yes,” she said, because that was all she could get out.” She moved toward the painting, leaned in close, away from her daughter’s searching eyes. “Yes,” she murmured again, but Annie knew.

“So, when does this piece ship?” Annie was all business now, bent to the task of information retrieval.

“Two days, perhaps three.”

“To the mystery buyer.”

“Right.” Ian glanced at Evie, looked away.

“Has this same buyer purchased all of Annie’s pieces?” Evie asked casually.

Two second hesitation. “No.”

“Well, it appears she has more than one admirer.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t disclose that information.”

“Of course not.” Evie turned and rubbed the back of her neck with both hands. “I understand all about confidentiality.” She inched closer to Ian’s work desk as she massaged the muscles of her neck, feigning fatigue. “I’m a painter, did Annie tell you? Oils.”

“She mentioned something about it.”

“Quinn wouldn’t be the one to tell you, that’s for sure.” Her voice quivered.
One more step.
“He hates me.” Evie let out a cry and lunged at the desk, gripping the edges with her fingers, her body slumping forward, but not before she saw the letter lying open in the middle of Ian’s desk with the name in bold, block across the top, 10K scrawled at the bottom.

Chapter 14

Quinn sat hunched in the corner of the bar, lulled by the faint hush of voices, night, and scotch. A few more drinks and he might be able to forget what happened four hours ago. He downed the rest of his drink and signaled the waitress for another.
The Banana Tree
was two blocks from
The Silver Strand
and his original plan was to saturate his brain with scotch and head to Arianna’s where he would spill the whole twisted tale to her. Problem was, he’d been here three hours and his brain wasn’t soaked enough to dull the truth.

Who would have thought Evie Burnes would be the one to bring him down and destroy the one relationship he needed? Annie had done most of the talking in a deadpan voice, her eyes never leaving his face, not even when Evie stuffed a wad of Kleenex in her hand. Annie should have screamed but she didn’t. When she’d handed him the paper with his letterhead on it and the 10K scrawled at the bottom, she made sure she didn’t touch him. He pictured her standing there, gripping the edge of his desk, so raw, so exposed.
You bought all of them, didn’t you, Quinn?

For a second, he’d considered massaging the truth, but her next words destroyed that option.

Don’t lie to me again.

He’d had no choice but to admit the truth.
Yes. I’m sorry.
How inadequate.
He’d tried again.
I just wanted . . .
What? To boost her confidence? Provide an influx of cash without her knowing? Make up for their mother’s absence?

Annie had stood before him, tears streaking her pale face, and he’d wished she would scream at him to go to hell. But she didn’t. She backed away, one step at a time until she reached the door and without a word, she was gone. Evie Burnes had been there the whole time, tucked in the background, invisible yet present. What was her part in this whole debacle? Was this payback for the strong arm tactics he’d used to get her to stay? He could tell Annie the real truth about their mother’s sudden reappearance. That tale would make this mess seem like a scrape instead of a bullet hole, but he wouldn’t do that. Why did that woman have to seep back into their lives?

Quinn finished his scotch, four quick gulps did it, threw a fifty on the table and left. He worked his way to
The Silver Strand
, his steps slow, his direction hazy. When he lifted the brass knocker, he told himself this whole confession plan was a bad idea but it didn’t stop him from knocking twice.

Minutes later, the door inched open and Danielle stood framed in the faint light. “Quinn? What are you doing here?”

She was the last person he wanted to see right now. He squinted into the light behind her. “Where’s Arianna?”

Danielle shook her head and he wished again she’d left her hair long. Why had she listened to a woman like Evie Burnes?

“It’s after midnight. She left hours ago.”

“I thought she was staying here with you. Or, were you going to her place?” His mind blurred at the details.

“She had a meeting tonight.”

“You shouldn’t be here alone. And you shouldn’t be answering the door.”

“I knew it was you. I peeked from the corner window.” She opened the door wider. “Why don’t you come in? I can put a pot of coffee on.”

“Coffee.” She wasn’t wearing a bra. He looked away but he hadn’t missed those tiny nipples poking through the red t-shirt. “Coffee,” he said again. He followed her to the basement, his hands on both sides of the wall as he worked his way down the steps. When he reached the bottom, the room started spinning or maybe it was the floor that was moving.

“Sit down,” Danielle said, gesturing to the futon. “I’ll get the coffee going.”

“Good idea.” Quinn slid onto the purple futon and glued his eyes on the scrap of pale skin peeking from beneath her t-shirt as she reached for the Maxwell House Decaf. It was just a slim strip of naked lower back but it made him harder than a Penthouse pin up. She straightened and the t-shirt drifted back into place, covering the pale skin but he’d seen it and now he wanted to see more.

“It should be just a minute.”

“Thanks.” He leaned back and stretched his arms over his head. “You got anything to go in it?”

“Let’s see.” She opened a small refrigerator and bent over.

He liked that view, too and wondered what kind of underwear she was wearing; thong, bikini,
none
?

“I’ve got regular coffee creamer, coffee creamer with hazelnut, and sugar. I think I have a few packs of Equal around here somewhere, too.”

Quinn blinked hard and cleared his throat. “Nothing stronger?”

“Oh.” She straightened and shrugged. “No, sorry.”

He laughed. “Next time I’ll bring my own. I guess we could take the Crown Royal from Arianna’s stash and tell her it was for a medical emergency.”

“Quinn.” She moved toward him in a graceful haze of cotton t-shirt and cinnamon. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Yes, there is.”

“You’re right, there is.” He looked up at her, standing there all long and white and creamy.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No. What I do want to talk about is why you’re here alone and why you’re answering the door.”
And why you’re not wearing a bra.

“I’m not alone anymore. You’re here.”

“Cute.”

The fake lightness in her voice fell flat. “I can’t keep dragging everyone into this. Arianna has done so much for me already, and she didn’t even know me until a few weeks ago. How can I expect her to change her whole lifestyle for me?”

“She wants to help.”

“I know and I appreciate it, but it’s my problem.”

“So what are you going to do when he shows up on your doorstep?”

She looked away. “I’ve got plans.”

“Enlighten me.” The alcohol might have subdued his reasoning skills but not his growing agitation. Exactly how did she think she was going to keep herself safe?

“I’m leaving.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Any destination or haven’t you got that mapped out yet?”

“Don’t, Quinn. The only chance I have is staying on the run.”

“Great chance. If he’s half as ruthless as you say, he’ll have you two hours after you step out the door.”

“No, he won’t.” Her expression turned hopeful. “Evie told me what to do. She’s going to help me.”

“That woman only helps herself.”

Danielle had the gall to defend her. “She’s already done quite a bit for me.”

“Yeah, like talking you into getting your hair lopped off. Bad choice.”

She touched the ends. “It’s only hair. It’ll grow back.”

“Okay, so you’re on the run with a new hairdo. That won’t even get you to the state line.”

“She told me to break the connection with anyone who might know me or know of me, which is why she told me I have to leave here. Alexander could track down my aunt and then it would only be a matter of time before he found me.”

“Break the connection, interesting choice of words.”

“Can’t you find it in your heart to forgive her?”

“No.”

“Do you have any idea what she must have gone through?” Danielle moved closer, her voice shaking. “She was abused, probably raped and beaten and who knows what else. Some people don’t survive.” Her words faded. “They get killed, or kill themselves.”

“Stop it. I don’t want to hear another word about it.” His ears started ringing and his gut twisted into one big knot.

“She couldn’t come back,” Danielle said softly, “surely you can understand.”

He couldn’t take one more second of this. He opened his mouth and let eighteen years of secrecy fall out. “She left.”

“No, she was abused and suffered horribly.”

“She left,” he repeated, his stomach clenching so hard for a second he thought he might puke. “My mother left. July 24
^th
, 1985. She drove to Furmano’s Grocery Store and then she drove out of our lives.”

***

She stared at him as though he’d just told her he was a vampire. “I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t. How could you?” He laughed, a cruel, harsh sound filling the tiny space. “It’s been eighteen years and I still don’t understand.” Quinn turned to her, touched a lock of hair, sifted his fingers through it. So soft. His gaze settled on the blackness of it. “I was fifteen, caught up in my own life. Who thinks about their parents’ well-being at that age? As long as I had a hot meal and clean clothes, I didn’t dwell on my mother’s state of mind. Hell, I couldn’t figure out my own state of mind. I thought she was fine, turns out, she wasn’t.” He eased his hand from her hair and let it fall in his lap. “So, she left.”

Danielle touched the sleeve of his shirt, tentative at first, then covered his hand with her own. “Tell me what happened.”

The asking was so simple, so honest. People had inquired about the absence of his mother for years, from the first days after her disappearance to the empty seat at his law school graduation.
I’m so sorry . . . so sorry.
The words were always loaded with sympathy, implying a lacking on his part which had always angered him. He wasn’t the one lacking, it was
her
. Even when there weren’t words, there were the quick glances at the blank spots on applications where parents’ names belonged, and again, the vacant seat next to his father during commencements. In Corville, nobody asked. They all knew what happened, or thought they did anyway, and if they were going to talk about the incident, at least they didn’t expect him to spit out details. Corville residents liked to tell their own version of the disappearance of Evie Burnes, embellishing tidbits to make the story more heart-wrenching.

“When I went away to college, I used to make up stories, bizarre ones about how she died. I’d say she was run over by a garbage truck, or fell off a roof when she was cleaning a window, or dropped a hair dryer in the tub and got electrocuted. I didn’t want anybody to feel sorry for me but worse, I didn’t want them feeling sorry for
her
. Wouldn’t a psychiatrist have a blast with that? I wanted her to suffer even if it was only in my mind. But my father found out one day when one of my roommates mentioned the garbage truck incident. I can still see my father’s face.” Quinn sighed and fixed his gaze on Danielle’s hand covering his. “That was the last time I said anything about my mother.”