Under a Summer Sky--A Savannah Romance Read online

She chuckled, explaining that Amyra had left for the day.

  “That’s good. Anyway, I know the gallery closes at seven and I wasn’t sure if you had any dinner plans, but I was going to stop by the seafood place on my way home later to pick up something for dinner. I thought you might like to join me. I’m not the greatest cook, but I know how to grill. And I’ve been hankering for some homemade food. You in?”

  “That sounds wonderful. Is there something I can pick up?”

  “No, I’ll have it covered.” He winked. “Just so you know, I’m following orders. Mom told me to show you some Southern hospitality.”

  “That’s very nice. I appreciate it.”

  “See you later then.”

  After he left, Nicole wondered if this counted as a date. She didn’t think so, and it wasn’t like she wanted it to be—although she would’ve felt differently about that ten years ago.

  The afternoon continued at a snail’s pace. There were several groups of touristy lookers and a woman who purchased a beaded bracelet, but no serious buyers. Nicole wondered how the gallery managed to stay in business if it was always this slow. And this was a Sunday in June. She’d heard of rich people creating money-losing businesses for tax shelters, but she didn’t think Vivian would do that. Would she?

  Nicole had just gotten comfortable in one of the armchairs when she heard the buzzer. She stood, smoothing down her blouse and rearranging her scarf and beads. She had to admit they lent some style to her “waitress” outfit. She ambled to the front of the building, warmly greeting the young couple and inviting them to look around at their leisure. Judging by their casual attire, she suspected they were tourists probably doing a gallery hop along the waterfront. Amyra had called people like this “lookie-lous.”

  Since it was past six now, Nicole didn’t care that they weren’t serious buyers. Let them look until closing if they liked. She just wanted to go home and call it a day. It wasn’t that she’d been working so hard, although she’d completed a meticulous cleanup of the kitchenette as well as the neglected employee bathroom. She’d even done some organizing of the art packaging supplies. So it wasn’t that she was tired—just bored. She wondered how she’d survive a whole summer like this.

  As she wandered back to the counter, she considered setting up a painting area in the back room. It was certainly big enough, if she rearranged it a bit. She didn’t think Vivian would mind. Hadn’t she actually suggested this? And Nicole would be careful not to let it interfere with serving customers.

  “Is this a local artist?” the young woman asked loudly.

  Nicole went to see what they were looking at, hoping she could remember some of the plethora of information that Amyra had tossed at her this morning. To her relief they were looking at a Turner seascape. “Yes, he is local,” she informed them as she stepped up to gaze at the oversized oil. “Collin Turner is an engineer who retired to Tybee Island about ten years ago in order to paint full-time. He often uses the local area for his subject matter.”

  The girl elbowed her guy friend. “I thought that was our lighthouse.” She pointed to the small red and white striped structure in the background.

  “Never said it wasn’t,” he responded. “Do you really like it?”

  “I love it. It would be perfect on the west wall in the great room. Can’t you just see it there?”

  He rubbed his chin as he studied it. “Yeah, it’d be nice.”

  Nicole was flabbergasted. These “kids” didn’t look much older than her high school students. Their raggedy jeans and faded T-shirts didn’t exactly suggest deep pockets, and the price of this painting was staggering. It would take several months of her yearly teacher’s salary to purchase it. And only if she didn’t eat and lived under a bridge.

  Nicole attempted a poker face, which was never her strong suit. It was possible these two were just playing with her. Maybe they were vacationing with their parents and bored enough to pull pranks on unsuspecting shopkeepers. She decided to simply play along. It would pass time and be good practice for when a real purchaser came in. Using her expertise in art, she politely discussed things like light and shadows and use of color, sharing why she thought the seascape truly was special.

  “Are you an artist?” The girl eyed her with interest.

  “I have an art degree, and I paint a little,” she confessed. “But nothing of the caliber of Collin Turner. He’s very talented. And he’s actually one of my favorite artists in this gallery.” She sighed. That was absolutely true. “I haven’t seen many seascapes as nice as his work.”

  “Well, I love it,” the girl declared again. “And I want it.”

  The guy shrugged. “Okay.”

  Nicole tried to conceal her shock, still unconvinced this couple was legit. “Did you want to take it with you or have it delivered?” She knew that was one of the questions she was supposed to ask but felt like she’d gotten the order wrong.

  “It won’t fit in our little car,” the girl told her. “Do you mind delivering it?”

  “Not at all.” Nicole felt relieved as she remembered something important. Unless the customers were personally known to the gallery, if it was a large purchase, the sales staff wasn’t supposed to let them remove the art from the gallery. Just in case their form of payment wasn’t solid.

  “I’m so excited,” the girl said. “I can’t wait for it to come. When will you deliver it?”

  Nicole thought for a moment. She was here by herself on Monday. Tuesday they were closed. “I think we could get it to you by Wednesday. Will that work?”

  The girl looked disappointed. “I really wanted it sooner than that.”

  “It’s okay,” the guy told her.

  “But Ben and Alice get here later tonight. Wouldn’t you love to have it on the wall when they arrive? How cool would that be? Especially since the place is still so stark.”

  He paused. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He pulled out his phone. “How about I see if Garth is around? Maybe he could pick it up for us.”

  “Yes.” She hugged him. “Perfect.”

  Feeling uneasy as she listened to the guy phone his buddy, Nicole led them up to the customer service counter.

  “Garth is fine with that,” he announced as Nicole got out the receipt book. She carefully wrote out the details of the purchase like she’d been shown, taking down all their information until there wasn’t a blank line left.

  “And how would you like to pay for this?” She braced herself in case they planned to pull the plug and run out laughing, which would probably be a relief. The idea of sending this expensive painting with these kids was truly disturbing. She studied the girl. Okay, maybe she wasn’t a kid, but she looked younger than Nicole.

  “Put it on this.” The guy presented a debit card from a major bank.

  Nicole tried to remember the steps in running a debit card. Fortunately, she still had her notebook. “Sorry to take so long,” she said as she skimmed over her scribbles. “This is actually my first day here and I want to do this right.” She ran the card, and as far as she could see, it went through. Even so, she felt uncertain. What if the card was stolen? Although the name matched the name in the receipt book.

  She feigned a perplexed look. “I’m sorry. It looks like I need to take this to the back room to run. You know how computers can be. Do you mind?”

  “Not at all,” the guy told her. “Garth won’t be here for a few minutes anyway.”

  “We’ll just look around some more,” the girl added.

  Nicole rushed to the back room and, pulling out her phone, called Amyra’s number. It rang several times, then went to voice mail. She left a quick message, asking Amyra to call back. Then she returned to the counter.

  “All set?” the guy asked.

  “I guess so.” She gave a quick nod. “Except, oh, I forgot. I do need to see your ID. To verify your debit card.” No one had told her to do this, but she remembered times when she’d been asked to produce ID for a purchase. He presented his d
river’s license, and to her relief, it matched the debit card, as well as the name and address in Tybee Island that she’d written down. This couple had to be legit.

  “Okay then.” She stapled the computer receipt to their copy of the handwritten one. “We close at seven. Will your friend be here by then?” Hoping it was impossible, she glanced at her watch. “That’s less than twenty minutes.”

  “He’s actually in town right now,” he assured her. “Should be here any minute.”

  “Well then, I’ll take the painting down and get it wrapped up.”

  Nicole honestly didn’t know what more she could do. She didn’t want to risk this sale. As she carried the bulky painting to the back room, she reminded herself that simply because people looked youngish or wore torn jeans didn’t mean they were impoverished. For all she knew, these two were celebrities with millions in the bank. Since she never paid much attention to pop culture—and wouldn’t be able to identify a Kardashian to save her life—she shouldn’t judge. She ran the young couple’s names around in her head. Finley and Camille Stratton. No bells went off. If they were rich and famous, she didn’t know it.

  She had just finished taping the large brown paper package when she heard the girl call out that their friend had arrived. Nicole struggled to pick up the well-padded package. Thanks to years of preparing students’ pieces for various art shows, she was an expert at packing. Sales . . . not so much.

  Finley stuck his head in the storeroom. “Want me to carry that out?”

  “Sure.” She stepped back, watching with trepidation as he picked up the large piece. “Let me help,” she offered as she reached for a corner, helping to guide it out. The friend was already in the gallery and took over for her. With her phone still in her pocket, she wondered if she could snap some pictures. Something to identify this youthful trio—just in case.

  “Thanks!” Finley shook her hand after the painting was loaded into the back of a red pickup. Nicole stared at the license plate, willing herself to remember it.

  “Yeah, thanks.” Camille grinned. “It’ll have a good home.”

  Nicole attempted a confident smile. “I’m sure it will. Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Stratton.” She slipped out her phone as the young couple climbed into a small, unimpressive hybrid car. She smiled and waved, pretending to read something on her phone but actually snapping photos of both vehicles’ rear ends. She hoped she hadn’t just made a horrible mistake.

  7

  Nicole still felt uneasy as she walked through the Grahams’ backyard. She’d already decided that if, by chance, she’d stupidly given away an expensive painting, she would promise to repay Vivian in monthly installments. It might take twenty years, but she would make good on it.

  “Welcome home!” Alex hailed her as she rounded the corner.

  “Oh!” She jumped in surprise. Seeing the smoking grill, she remembered his invitation to dinner.

  “Sorry to startle you.” Alex opened the grill to reveal several salmon fillets.

  She sniffed the air. “Smells good.”

  Alex turned down the flame and closed the grill, looking at her with interest. “You look a little glum. Rough day at work?”

  She forced a smile.

  “Something wrong?”

  “Not exactly.” She shrugged. She was absolutely hopeless at hiding things. Her friends always said she was an open book. And she felt transparency was a good quality. Unless you wanted to keep something private.

  “What’s up?” he asked as he followed her into the house.

  “I want to change,” she said quickly.

  “Yeah, for sure. Get into something more comfortable. Can I get you a beer or something?”

  “No thanks.” She hurried away, relieved to escape his questions.

  As she changed into khaki capri pants and a T-shirt, she determined to put the painting sale behind her. What would be, would be. But by the time she rejoined Alex by the pool, where he had a tall glass of sweet tea waiting for her, he seemed determined to get the story out of her. Finally she broke.

  “I’m worried about selling a very expensive painting.”

  “But that would be a good thing.”

  “I know. That’s not what I meant. I’m worried about a painting I already sold.”

  “You made a sale?” He sounded impressed. “On your first day. That’s great, Nicole.”

  She explained the details, and when she finished, Alex let out a long sigh. “So you think they might’ve ripped it off?”

  “No,” she said quickly. “Not exactly. But I’m not sure.” She told him how much the painting was worth and who the artist was.

  He let out a low whistle. “That’s rough, Nicole. Mom is a huge Collin Turner fan. He’s one of the artists she scheduled to feature at a special showing this summer. She was so excited that he agreed. I guess he’s kind of a hermit.”

  Her heart sank.

  “But you shouldn’t worry too much,” he said. “Their money was probably good. And like you said, you’ve got their license plates and ID if it’s not.”

  “Hello there!” a male voice called from the house. “Anybody home?”

  Alex rolled his eyes. “Sounds like baby brother.”

  “Ryan?”

  “Party crasher.” Alex frowned.

  Nicole turned around just as a tall, slim guy emerged from the house. His tanned face broke into a wide smile when he saw Nicole. “Hey, old friend. I heard you were in town. Welcome!”

  She stood as he approached, and to her surprise, he swept her up in a big bear hug. “Ryan, it’s been so long. You got taller,” she said as he released her.

  He laughed. “Yeah, I grew about three inches after high school.”

  “I wouldn’t have recognized you.” Her eyes moved from his dark, wavy hair down to those chocolate-brown puppy-dog eyes, which did seem familiar. And his glasses had improved considerably—in fact, he actually looked both stylish and intelligent behind the narrow tortoiseshell frames. She took in his light blue chambray shirt with sleeves rolled up to expose tanned forearms, his casual jeans, and his brown leather sandals. She smiled at him, deciding that Ryan Graham had grown up quite nicely!

  “Well, I would recognize you anywhere,” Ryan said. “You still look great, Nicole. It’s fantastic to see you. How long has it been, anyway?”

  Before she could answer, Alex jumped in. “What’re you doing here, little bro?”

  “I promised Mom I’d check on Nicole.” Ryan went over to the grill, sneaking a peek. “Hey, you’ve got plenty of fish there.” He turned to them with twinkling eyes. “Sure, I’d love to join you.”

  Alex grimaced.

  “This is great,” Nicole said. “I can catch up with both of you at the same time.”

  “Well, if you’re inviting yourself to dinner, you better make yourself useful.” Alex scowled as he pointed at Ryan. “You can make the salad.”

  “No problem.”

  “I’ll help,” Nicole offered. Despite Alex’s objections, she followed Ryan into the house, where they were soon washing and chopping veggies. As they joked and bantered with each other, Nicole began to feel like a kid again. Like time hadn’t passed and neither of them had changed that much.

  “How’s it going?” Alex asked as he came to peer over Nicole’s shoulder.

  “We’re almost finished here,” she told him.

  “Looks good.”

  Nicole was relieved that his tone had softened some.

  “Hey, Ryan, what’s Cassidy up to? How about asking her over for dinner?”

  “She’s got a late shift at the hospital tonight.” Ryan scooped up the last of the chopped avocado and dropped it on top of the green salad.

  “Too bad.” Alex laid a hand on Nicole’s shoulder. “The salmon’s done anyway.”

  “Great.” She rewarded him with a smile. “I’m starving.”

  “Cool.” He gave her a squeeze, almost like he was marking his territory. “Wanna help set the table, Nic?”

&
nbsp; “Sure.” She followed him to the dish cabinet, enjoying this attention from him.

  “We’re going to eat outside,” he said as he put the place settings in her hands. “If you don’t mind.”

  “I’d love that.”

  As Alex got some things from the fridge, Nicole carefully set the patio table. The air felt like velvet, and the fragrance of the gardenia was almost intoxicating.

  Soon the three of them were seated, and Alex, transformed into Mr. Congeniality, seemed intent on playing host. Even though he was still slightly condescending toward his brother, his attitude was an improvement. Nicole suspected the brothers were not on the best of terms. Not so different from when they were kids. It felt strange to be in the middle of what seemed like a rivalry, but the truth was she sort of liked it. In fact, it seemed that Ryan’s presence had taken Alex’s attentiveness to a whole new level.

  After the conversation, which had been focused on Alex’s recent trip to Boston, came to a lull, Nicole said to Ryan, “Your mom told me you restore old Victorian homes.”

  “That’s right.” Ryan dished out a second helping of salad.

  “Are you involved in a restoration project right now?”

  “I am. I’ve been working on the McDaniel Mansion for a couple years now. I hope to finish it by the end of summer. It’s an antebellum Victorian with a strong Gothic influence,” he said. “Kind of a dark horse, though. It’s sat empty for decades.”

  “Because it’s haunted,” Alex added.

  “Reputedly haunted. Although it does have its history,” Ryan conceded. “But so do most of the older homes in Savannah. Including this one.”

  “Maybe so. But only my baby brother would invest in a freaky money pit like the McDaniel place.” Alex chuckled. “We called it the McMunster Mansion as kids. A great spot for truth or dare on Halloween, but you couldn’t pay me to live there.”

  “You probably couldn’t afford it anyway,” Ryan said.

  “Well, I think it sounds very interesting,” Nicole told Ryan. “I’d love to see it.”

  He smiled. “I’d love to show it to you.”

  “So this house is supposed to be haunted too?” Nicole glanced over her shoulder with a nervous laugh. “Your parents mentioned something about it, but I thought they were joking.”