“At one time I thought it was.”
“And you showed what’s in storage to Anders?”
“I don’t want to know how you guessed that, but yes, Greg and I spent three days going through everything. He wanted to see what we could use when we have our own home. I’d planned to take it all with me with Brian, but …”
“Who’s he?” Mike asked. He was looking at a photo of two pretty young women with their equally cute kids. It was his guess they were Sara’s older sisters.
“First serious boyfriend.” She didn’t say that she’d been so sure they were going to marry that six months after they met, she’d turned down an excellent job as a conservator at a Boston museum. Her life with Brian would have taken her in a different direction, and that’s what she’d wanted so very much.
When Mike looked at Sara in question, she shrugged. “Dumped me. Boo hoo. Feel sorry for Sara.”
He knew she meant it as a joke, but he could feel the hurt in her voice. “Stupidest man I ever heard of,” he said and was pleased to see her smile. “So what does the fiancé think of all this?” He motioned about the room.
Sara laughed. “That it would make a good bonfire. He likes chrome and glass.”
Mike turned away so she wouldn’t see his frown. If Vandlo had been so honest about his likes and dislikes, and Sara’s were so different, why the hell was she marrying him? He sat down in the big leather chair. “I like what you have here. No chrome, and I hate glass-topped tables. They break during fights and can cut a man. I once saw a severed artery that—” He broke off with a shrug.
Sara remained standing and staring down at him.
“Did I grow horns?” he asked.
“You look at home in that chair. You look like some World War I pilot. I can almost see you in a bomber’s jacket.”
“You mean one of those guys who died before he was twenty-three? Fought the Red Baron and went down in flames?”
“Yes, that’s just what I mean.” She sat down on the edge of her couch and kept looking at him. “Greg—”
“What about him?” Mike tried not to sound keenly interested.
“Nothing. You look good in this room. Most men are awkward in here, but you look like you’ve read a book and been places and done things in your life.”
“Sara,” he said softly, but she got up before he could say more.
“I’ll get the jewelry.” She hurried down the little hall to her bedroom.
Mike wandered around the rest of the apartment. The kitchen needed remodeling, and there was a big hole where the sink had been. He couldn’t help smiling at the way Luke had disabled the whole place.
“Was there anything Anders liked?” he called to Sara. “So much as a chair or even a photo?” His voice lowered when she came back into the living room.
“Not really.” She handed Mike a small wooden box.
Opening it, he saw six pieces of jewelry. They were old-fashioned, and he didn’t doubt that the stones were real, but even if they were, none was big enough to be worth much. Certainly not enough to tempt a Vandlo. He closed the box. “I don’t think …”
“I know. The good stuff went to her daughters-in-law. Ram’s mother has some big clunkers that she never wears. I got the pretty things.”
“Sara, you could wear jewelry made of iron and make it look good.”
“I …” she began, and he could see the blush coming into her cheeks. But then her eyes went to the wall behind him. “The CAY painting.”
“What?”
She stepped around him and went to the far wall. “One time Greg said that the only thing of mine he actually liked was this painting. He wanted me to give it to him.” She removed from the wall a frame, about ten by twelve, and handed it to him.
For a moment his heart raced, but when he saw the picture he was disappointed. It looked like a child’s drawing of a pond with ducks on it—except that the sky was green, the pond pink, and the poor ducks were purple.
The watercolor looked old, but he couldn’t see it as being valuable. Maybe Vandlo wanted it for his future grandchildren. According to his family’s tradition, his teenage daughter would soon be married off to some old man.
Mike looked in the corner of the painting at the three initials: CAY. “One of your ancestors?”