Waterfront Weddings (63 page)

When she arrived at the studio and turned on the computer, a résumé sat in her e-mail. As Alanna scanned it, she decided this woman with her art degree might fit well at a studio. She fired an e-mail back, setting up a time for a phone interview. Maybe she wouldn’t need Patience after all.

The morning flew as Alanna prepped new pieces for the walls and fiddled with a display of small prints. By the time the phone rang, the Painted Stone had already welcomed several groups of tourists. Alanna stepped down the hallway with the phone and tried to shield it from the noise while keeping an eye on the art.

“Ms. Stone. Ready to leave that little island and come back to the real world?” The managing partner seemed in a good mood, but Alanna stayed on guard.

“Yes, sir. I should be ready in two or three weeks.”

A whistle made Alanna pull the phone away from her ear. “That’s a long time. We’ve already given you two.”

“I asked for at least a month. After that trial, I need the time.”

“Doesn’t sound like a vacation from what I’ve heard. Bennett told us he bought art from you. Odd considering you cleaned him out in court. Now you cleaned his billfold, too.”

Alanna leaned against the wall and covered her eyes. “Small world.”

“Well, two weeks. That’s it. A day more, and you’ll need to find a new firm. We have clients waiting for you who can’t wait forever. The courts have deadlines.”

Alanna hung up and tried to imagine everything she loved about her job. Her stomach knotted at the thought of marching back into the office. Handling more crazy clients and their insane demands. Then walking those into court. Never knowing exactly what would happen next. Having a script that could be abandoned in an instant. She tried to conjure up her bedroom at the apartment. The peace that usually swept her at the thought of the gray room with lavender accents didn’t appear.

Then the image of practicing here, with the quiet pace of the island, flowed into her mind. Maybe she could work with Jonathan. He enjoyed event planning. She could, too. She certainly had the organizational skills to make it successful.

Reality grabbed her runaway thoughts. She couldn’t stay here. Definitely not work with Jonathan.

But she didn’t want to go home.

Jonathan stared out the window as he waited for Trevor to answer the phone before he called Brendan. He’d heard Alanna’s version of events. Now it was time to get Trevor’s. Somewhere in the middle he’d find the truth. At least that’s what he counted on.

He’d start by clearing the date for the event. Couldn’t have the shindig without the guest of honor. Overnight his vision for the event had continued to emerge. It would be easy to craft another show. What the Painted Stone needed was a launch or introduction on a large scale. Something that drew folks to the island, causing them to hop on a ferry and venture across the lake for a couple of hours. That would take something compelling. Something out of the ordinary that made people talk before and after the event.

Food was a given.

Music.

But there needed to be something. . .more. Something unexpected. Something fresh and unique.

“Hello?” The groggy voice had Jonathan conjuring up the image of an artist who stayed up too late with the party scene.

“Trevor Stone. Good morning.”

“Morning?” There was a pause as if the phone was pulled away.

“Do I know you?”

Jonathan chuckled. “You probably don’t remember me. I’m Jonathan Covington.”

“Sure. Dude on the dock with my sister every summer. She there now?”

“Something like that. Hey, we’ve got a project for you.” Jonathan filled him in on the art. “Alanna figured out pretty quickly your mom wasn’t painting.”

“Hasn’t for five years.” A pause, maybe a yawn, before the young man continued. “Alanna’s had her head buried in the city.”

“Is there a reason your mom stopped?”

“Arthritis. She can’t hold the paintbrush like she used to, but they still need the income.”

“Alanna’s determined to get your name on your paintings.”

“Don Quixote.”

The image of Alanna on a horse jousting windmills settled in front of Jonathan. It fit. Too well. “You have no idea.”

“So what’s this got to do with me?”

“We’re going to have a launch party for you. Bring you into the light.”

“You haven’t told Mom.” His voice was flat, like he’d already disengaged from the conversation.

“Not yet. We need to make sure the date works for you.” The door banged open, and Jonathan turned toward it. Alanna stepped into his office, her cheeks flooded with color and a slightly wild look about her eyes. She marched up to him and started gesturing like a mad woman. “Can you hang on one second?”

He covered the mouthpiece and queried Alanna. “What?”

“You’ve got to help me. Now.”

He looked from the phone to her. “Can it wait a few minutes?”

Her eyes turned red, and she collapsed in a chair. “I’m trapped.”

“Trevor, I’ll call you back.”

“Whatever.”

Jonathan hung up the phone, never taking his gaze off Alanna’s frantic features. “Fill me in.”

“The partners just threatened my job.”

“Okay.”

“I have to be back in two weeks or find a new job.”

“We’ll get you back.”

Tears cascaded down her cheeks.

“Alanna, what’s wrong?”

“What if I don’t want to go back but I can’t stay?”

“What?”

“What if I’m trapped either way? Staying or leaving?” Her shoulders shuddered, and she turned away from him. “We have two weeks to wrap it up, and then I’m gone.”

“Is that what you want?”

She seemed to find something within her, because she straightened and pushed to her feet. “It doesn’t matter. I knew I shouldn’t have come back. Now I just have to leave. Again.”

He almost didn’t hear the last word. Then he wondered if he just wished it. Maybe he’d imagined everything restarting between them. He shouldn’t assume she felt anything for him. But as he studied her, he couldn’t discount everything that had happened. It wasn’t a mistake she’d come back to Mackinac. It wasn’t a mistake they’d rediscovered each other.

He wouldn’t let her walk away. Not this time.

“I was on the phone with Trevor.”

She spun around. “Why?”

“Because you asked me to organize his launch party. I talk to the person to capture their personality. You should have told me he still has no drive.”

“What?”

“Sounded like he was still in bed, and it’s after eleven.”

“Not everybody’s as accomplished as you are.”

Her sarcasm made him snort. “I’ll remember that next time I need a shot of encouragement.” He shoved his hands in his back pockets. It was either that or pull her to him for a good, long kiss. Maybe then she’d stop fighting him long enough to hear what he said. He studied her, the war of fire and ice in her eyes. Maybe self-control wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Maybe they both needed to lose their hold and see what happened when they let go.

That couldn’t be easy for an attorney to do. The thought scared the spit from his mouth.

“Jonathan, I think we’d better leave it all alone.”

“Not happening.” He stepped closer, and she edged back. “You came back against your will because your family needed you. They still do. And so does Mr. Hoffmeister. Who’ll fight to the truth if you don’t?”

“Police Chief Ryan. That’s his job.”

“And when the case goes cold? And there’s another Grady kind of case? When the island decides you were involved even if it’s never proven?”

“That won’t happen.”

“Like it didn’t for Trevor?” He knew it was low, but he had to get her attention.

She stepped away, back landing against the wall with a smack as her mouth opened and shut like a fish desperate for air. “You don’t mean that.”

Jonathan didn’t say anything, letting his gaze speak for him. The truth had to be confronted. “Come on, Alanna. Let’s see this through to the end.”

“Two weeks. That’s all the time we have.” She spun and pulled the door open. “I have to get back home.”

Her feet pounded down the stairs with finality. He started after her but stopped when his phone blared to life. With a sigh, he opened it. “Jonathan Covington.”

“That artist is a genius.”

“Edward?”

“Of course. Her work is perfect. Bonnie will love it. Promise she’ll have a piece ready.”

“You know artists. . . .”

“No time for temperament. Bonnie’s treatment isn’t going well. The doctor isn’t making any promises, so this party has to be perfect from start to finish.” Edward cleared his throat. “Perfection, Jonathan.”

“Yes, sir.” He didn’t know how, but he’d have a Rachelle Stone original painting for Bonnie Morris if he had to watch her paint each and every stroke. Mrs. Stone needed the work and encouragement as much as Mrs. Morris needed the breath of light and life. “I’m glad you like her.”

“It’s perfect. Bonnie finished the invitation list last night. I’ll send it in an hour. We may need extra rooms, but guests can overflow in Mackinaw City if needed. Family are the key folks for the island.” A phone buzzed in the background. “Got to get that. Keep me posted.”

“Will do.”

Jonathan moved to his desk and made a few notes before calling Brendan. The need to have a perfect event increased with each conversation. He didn’t see a love as rich and deep as the Morrises often. Instead, most people seemed to manage only a cheap counterfeit. Someday he’d have to ask Edward the secret.

At this point, his love life was enough of a morass he needed to get out of relationships. Maybe after he’d squared things with Jaclyn, he could relaunch things with Alanna. If her frame of mind when she left gave any indication, he’d have a challenge convincing her to stay. She seemed intent on going back to Grand Rapids. Maybe he just hadn’t made his case yet.

A guy could hope.

T
he grill fired up with a sputter as Alanna twisted the knob. The chicken breast looked well marinated, and she longed for a quick bite before tackling the mysteries surrounding her. Jonathan had left a couple of messages for Brendan. Alanna doubted he’d return the calls. He seemed as self-centered as ever.

Could the mess with the foundation books be the crux of the broken relationship between Mr. Hoffmeister and Mr. Tomkin? It had to be more than house plans. Surely that wouldn’t destroy a decades-long friendship.

If the problem generated on Hoffmeister’s watch but while Tomkin’s son was bookkeeper, it would certainly make finding a resolution tricky. Could that be the real reason Mr. Tomkin had asked her to look into the problem? He knew the source but didn’t know how to confront his son? Without talking to Brendan, she had no idea what would motivate him to steal from the foundation.

Maybe Detective Bull had looked through Hoffmeister’s books by now. Alanna placed the chicken on the grill then found his card and dialed the number.

“Detective Bull.”

“Hi, this is Alanna Stone.”

“How can I help you?” His tone was ultraformal.

“Have you looked through Mr. Hoffmeister’s books yet?”

“Why?”

“I wondered if you could confirm that they were copies of the Mackinac Island Foundation’s financial records.”

“Why?”

“Because someone has embezzled from the foundation, and I think Mr. Hoffmeister was looking into it. It happened when he was president, and I think he felt a need to figure out who did it and why.”

“That’s a lot of theorizing. Any facts?”

“The embezzlement is evident in the foundation books. I don’t know why someone’s been doing it. But I think Mr. Tomkin’s son, Brendan, at least knew about it since he was the bookkeeper at the time.”

“Isn’t his father president of the foundation now?”

“Yes. And I think it’s interesting that Mr. Tomkin hired a new bookkeeper when he took over.”

“Thanks for the information.”

“Are you going to do anything with it?”

“I’ll follow up on it.” After the usual good nights, he hung up.

Maybe it was a wasted call, but at least he could work on it now if he chose. Bet he’d have a little more luck getting Brendan to cooperate.