If I Didn't Know Better Read online

  Setting down her coffee mug on the table, she took the keys out of her pocket that the locksmith had given her and walked down the path to the studio. Unlocking the door, she stepped inside the cottage and stopped abruptly. While the house had been cluttered, the studio was filled to the brim with artist supplies, paints, easels, canvases, pictures, frames, a table covered with open containers of jewelry beads and hot glue guns, another table displaying a sewing machine and hundreds of scraps of fabrics that seem to be making up part of a quilt. There were clay structures on a shelf next to spools of yarn and colorful knitting needles.

  It felt as if a dozen artists had suddenly gotten up in mid task and walked out of the building. Not one thing seemed to be finished or put away.

  It was more than a little overwhelming.

  She took a deep breath, reminding herself that nothing had to be done in a day. She could take her time. And she was excited about the possibilities. There could be some incredible art in this room. She moved over to the stairs, where stacks of paintings lined the steps that led up to the loft.

  She climbed the steps and found a double bed, a small dresser, and a bathroom. The windows showed off another amazing view of the ocean. And an easel with a blank canvas stood by that window, just waiting to be brought to life with paint.

  "Later," she muttered to herself, fighting the desire to stop taking inventory and play with the paints.

  As an art historian, she didn't just love art; she also loved the stories about the people who made the art, and there were probably many stories that had been started in this very studio. Maybe she would discover a piece of art that hadn't yet been seen by the world. It could happen. And it could be amazing.

  "I'm going to do it right," she said out loud. "I'll make you proud, Aunt Carly. I'll make sure everything in here is treated with respect. I know that's the way you'd want it." Smiling at her promise, she went down the stairs. She'd just reached the bottom when the door swung open, and a small figure appeared in the sunlit doorway. It was Ashlyn. She held the doll she'd gotten the night before, and she was looking at Mia with her heart in her eyes. It was so clear that she wanted to connect; she just didn't know how.

  "Hi, Ashlyn," she said with a warm smile. "What do you think of my aunt's studio? She used to let artists stay here while they worked on their paintings or their sculptures or their quilts. Now I just have to figure out what to do with all this stuff."

  Ashlyn didn't even blink, and Mia had to admit her wide-eyed stare was somewhat unnerving. No wonder Jeremy had been so happy to have someone to talk to the night before. The silence was probably making him crazy.

  "I'm glad you like your doll," Mia added. "I was thinking we should probably wash the dress and see if we can tidy her up a bit."

  Ashlyn's arms tightened around the doll. It didn't look like she was interested in letting go of her doll for any reason.

  "Or we can wait until she's ready for a bath," Mia continued. "Maybe you could help me clean up in here. I probably need to start taking things outside and see what I have. I could use a helper—if you're not doing anything."

  Mia had no sooner finished speaking when Jeremy's voice rang through the air.

  "Ashlyn! Ashlyn—where are you?"

  She heard the fear and panic in his tone. "Your dad doesn't know you're here, does he?"

  Ashlyn just stared back at her.

  "Let's go tell him. He sounds worried."

  She waved Ashlyn back through the open door and into the yard and yelled, "Jeremy, Ashlyn is over here."

  A minute later, Jeremy came through the side gate. He wore a T-shirt and track pants and a shadow of a beard darkened his jaw.

  "There you are," he said with relief as his gaze fell on his daughter. "Ashlyn, you can't leave the house without telling me. You can't come over here without asking me if it's all right." He walked over to the little girl and squatted down in front of her. "Do you understand? I was worried about you. Don't do it again, okay?"

  Ashlyn didn't answer.

  "I need to know that you hear me, that you understand," he said firmly. "This is important, Ash."

  Ashlyn finally nodded, her long, tangled hair tumbling around her face and shoulders.

  "Good," he said, getting to his feet. He looked at Mia. "I should have figured she'd be over here. But when she wasn't in her room, and the side door was open, I didn't know what to think."

  "She's all right."

  "I shouldn't have been that worried. This is Angel's Bay, after all." He turned his attention back to his daughter. "We need to go home, Ash. Mrs. Danbury is coming over to watch you while I work out."

  Ashlyn immediately shook her head and sat down right where she was standing, as if daring him to drag her back to the house.

  Jeremy frowned. "Ashlyn, I have to go. I have to meet the therapist to work on my shoulder. I told you that I hurt it, and I need to get it better."

  She gave another defiant shake of her head.

  "I could watch her," Mia offered, impulsively stepping into their silent battle. "If it's okay with you, Jeremy."

  He hesitated. "I don't know."

  "I promise I won't let her climb up onto the roof," she said lightly. "And I told you I was the best babysitter in my neighborhood."

  "You have your own things to take care of."

  "Ashlyn can help me. I don't want to put your babysitter out of a job, but it looks like you have a sit-in on your hands."

  He sighed. "I'll only be two hours. I need to stick to my therapy schedule."

  "Of course you do," she said, wondering more about his injury, but that was a story for another day. "We'll be fine."

  "Do you want to stay with Mia?" he asked Ashlyn.

  She gave him an emphatic nod.

  "Okay," he said. "I'll tell Mrs. Danbury she's off the hook. I'll be back in a few hours. Let me give you my number in case you have any problems."

  She pulled her phone out of her pocket and they exchanged numbers. "Take your time," she said. "I'm going to start cleaning out the studio. It's a mess, but it seems easier to deal with than to tackle the whole house." She paused, seeing a lingering hesitation in his eyes. "Go. And don't worry about a thing. I will take good care of Ashlyn. You can trust me. Everything will be all right. "

  He gave her an odd look. "People have been saying that to me for a while, but I think this morning is the first time I've actually believed it."

  The look in his eyes brought a wave of heat to her cheeks. She was obviously reading into his words, but she couldn't help thinking that for the first time in a month, she actually thought everything might turn out all right for her, too.

  After Jeremy left, she turned to Ashlyn. "Let's get to work."

  Ashlyn got to her feet and followed her back into the studio.

  An hour later, Mia had taken a dozen paintings out to the patio and had filled one large plastic trash bag with yarn and knitting supplies and another with fabric swatches and sewing machine accessories. She hadn't been aware that her aunt was into textile art, but apparently at least one or more of her artists had been interested in quilting.

  The other items that had drawn her interest were the black-and-white graphic sketches she'd found in a folder labeled "Carly's Coloring Book Ideas For Grown-Ups". She took them over to the patio table and sat down. With Ashlyn at her side, she flipped through the sketches.

  These were not the usual kids' coloring book pages. They were detailed pictures of hidden gardens and staircases, jeweled birds and circular mazes. A few of the sketches had been colored in with markers, showing what they could be like when finished.

  She hadn't thought about coloring in years, but as she stared at the pictures, she felt an urge to pick up one of the hundreds of brightly colored markers she'd found and do some coloring.

  The sound of a female voice lifted her head from the patterned sketches.

  Ashlyn bolted across the yard and into the studio as a woman came through the side gate.

  "He
llo? Anyone home?"

  As Mia got to her feet, an attractive redhead in her early thirties walked into the yard. She wore cropped white pants, a bright yellow shirt, and a large floppy hat to protect her pale, freckled skin.

  "Hi there," she said with a friendly smile. "I'm Kara Lynch. I rang the bell, but no one answered. Carly was very good friends with my mother and grandmother. They sent me over with this." She held up the rectangular plastic food container in her hand. "Lemon squares and raspberry dot cookies to welcome you to Angel's Bay."

  "It's nice to meet you," she said, wiping her dusty hands on her shorts as she moved around the table.

  "Oh, my, you've really dug in, haven't you," Kara said, her gaze sweeping the crowded table.

  "I've just barely started." She moved the basket of colored pens out of the way so she could put the dessert on the table. "I'm Mia Callaway."

  Kara nodded. "My mother said you were coming in your mom's place. Did you know what you were getting into?"

  "Not exactly. I used to spend summers here when I was a teenager, but this house was not nearly as cluttered or messy back then. It almost makes me wonder if something was going on with my aunt. Or maybe she was just having too good of a time to waste a second cleaning."

  "I think that was probably the case," Kara said. "Your aunt was a real character. Besides hosting all the visiting artists, she used to teach salsa dancing at the recreation center."

  Mia raised an eyebrow. "My blonde-haired, blue-eyed aunt taught salsa dancing?"

  Kara laughed. "She was good. She also taught yoga for a while. I took one of the yoga classes. She talked a lot about her time in India, studying yoga with the masters. She was very flexible."

  Yoga, salsa dancing, art—was there nothing her aunt couldn't do?

  "I didn't realize she had so many talents," Mia murmured.

  "Even if she hadn't perfected something, she still wanted to show it off to the world. I always liked your aunt's confidence. She didn't care what anyone thought as long as she was having a good time. I'd like to be more like that."

  "Me, too," she agreed, thinking she'd spent far too much time worrying about what other people thought.

  "What are you going to do with all the paintings?" Kara asked, waving her hand around the patio.

  "I'm not sure yet. I hate to just throw them away, and some of the paintings are really good. They should be on display somewhere." As she finished speaking, she got an idea…probably a bad idea, but she couldn't stop it from taking shape in her head. "Maybe I should put them up somewhere."

  "The museum in town might be interested, or one of the art galleries. Angel's Bay has quite an art scene these days. We get a lot of tourists driving up from Los Angeles and Santa Barbara on the weekends and in the summer. Do you think the paintings are good enough? I'm no expert on art, but that one looks like my three-year-old drew it." She pointed to a smudged, messy painting that looked like a ball of colored yarn.

  "That one is pretty bad," she agreed. "But what about this one?" She picked up the painting of a solitary sailboat bobbing by a dock. "I like the colors and the brushstrokes. It's technically good, and I think it evokes a mood."

  "It feels a little sad and lonely," Kara said.

  "Art that makes you feel anything is usually good."

  "You should talk to the galleries and the museum. You might start with the Eckhart Gallery on Main Street. Didi Eckhart just took it over after her husband's death, and she was friends with your aunt. She might be the most interested in talking to you about a showing of some kind."

  "I'll start with her."

  "Do you think you have enough good pieces?"

  "There are more in the studio, and I haven't even gone through the storage area on the second floor. The only thing I worry about is whether any of the artists would object to my taking the paintings they left for Aunt Carly and doing something with them."

  "If they gave their art to Carly, then it was hers to do with as she liked, and now it's yours."

  "Technically everything here belongs to my mother, but I think she'd like the idea of setting up an exhibition in Aunt Carly's honor. And it would give the artists some recognition, too. She was always about finding undiscovered talent."

  Kara smiled at her with a knowing gleam in her eyes. "You remind me a little of myself, Mia. I love to take on big projects and make plans even when I have a ton of other things to do."

  Mia laughed. "I have to admit putting on an exhibition sounds like more fun than filling trash bags. But it will all get done."

  Kara picked up the sketch of a peacock from the table. "What is this?"

  "That is part of a coloring book for grown-ups that my aunt was putting together."

  "I've heard of those. They're all the rage now. A friend of mine in Los Angeles just went to a coloring book party. She was telling me how much fun it was. She liked that she could drink a lot of wine and color at the same time, and it wasn't as complicated as quilting or knitting."

  "Good point. My aunt was always on trend."

  A light came into Kara's eyes as she flipped through the sketches in the folder. "These are all fantastic. Carly drew them all?"

  "I think so. The folder had her name on it."

  "You know what we should do? We should have our own coloring book party. I can introduce you to my friends and some of your aunt's friends, who would probably love to come. We could have it at my grandmother's quilt store in town. We have a big meeting room upstairs."

  "Isn't that for quilting?"

  "Oh, we do tons of other stuff up there, too. This will be so much fun."

  "I would love to meet some of my aunt's friends, but do you think they'll want to color?"

  "I'd say yes, especially if it's in Carly's honor. I'll get my friend Charlotte to help. She's always up for a party. We can make copies of the sketches and preserve the originals."

  "I could take care of that," she offered.

  "Great. Let's exchange numbers and we'll set a date, probably the sooner the better. How long will you be in town?"

  "I don't have a set plan, but I'm thinking at this point at least a few weeks."

  "Perfect." Kara gave her another smile. "I do have to warn you that if you stay in Angel's Bay too long, you might never leave. This town has a way of spinning a web around you."

  "My aunt told me that once. She said she came here for a summer vacation and never left. Although she traveled a lot, Angel's Bay was home base. Were you born here, Kara?"

  "I was, and my family, the Murrays, was one of the founding families of the town. I have ancestors dating back to the original shipwreck."

  "Aunt Carly told me the story once, but I don't really remember it."

  "The short version is that people were fleeing San Francisco after the Gold Rush ended. One of the ships got caught in a big storm off the coast and split apart. The survivors started the town and called it Angel's Bay in memory of their lost loved ones. Legend has it that angels still watch over the town and miracles can happen."

  "Have you seen any of those miracles?"

  Kara's face sobered. "Actually, I have."

  "Really?" she asked with surprise.

  "My husband Colin is a police officer. He was shot a few years ago. I was pregnant at the time. He was in a coma for months. I wasn't sure if he would ever wake up and see our daughter, but he did. And he's perfect now. We added another child last year, so life is pretty crazy and more than a little wonderful."

  "I'm sure the last thing you need to add to your list is a coloring book party."

  "Well, as I said, I like to take on projects even if I don't have time for them, and this sounds fun and easy enough to throw together. Shall we go for it?"

  "Yes," she said. "But tell me what I can do to help. I don't want you to have to work too hard."

  "If you can make copies of the sketches, that would be great. We have plenty of markers and colored pencils in the craft part of the quilt store. I was actually thinking that we should
stock coloring books after talking to my friend. This will be a good test of how much interest there might be in town for this kind of creative project." She glanced at her watch. "I better run, but let me get your number."

  After they exchanged phone numbers, Kara said, "So is that cute little girl spying on us from the cottage your daughter?"

  Mia glanced toward the studio and saw a quick movement in the shadows of the doorway. "No, that's Ashlyn. She lives next door. She's rather shy."

  "I wish one of my daughters was shy, but they both seem to have their father's outgoing personality."

  "And yours," Mia said with a laugh, sensing that Kara rarely met anyone who stayed a stranger for long.

  "I suppose that's true. So you don't have a daughter; what about a husband?"

  "I don't have one of those, either."

  "Interesting. We have some good-looking single men in town."

  She laughed at that pointed suggestion. "Thanks, but I'm off men for the moment."

  "Bad breakup?"

  "You could say that. Anyway, thanks for the dessert and for being so welcoming. I'm really touched by your generosity."

  "You're more than welcome. Carly was a really wonderful person—warm, kind, generous, and free-spirited. We all miss her. And we're all really happy to meet you, because she talked about you quite a bit. She said she had a bunch of nieces and nephews but only one who shared her love of art, and that was you."

  "Yes, that would be me."

  "I'll be in touch. Enjoy the lemon bars; they're my favorite."

  "I'm sure I will."

  As Kara left, Mia took the lid off the container, her stomach rumbling at the sight of the lemon bars sprinkled with powdered sugar. "It's time for a snack, Ashlyn," she said, thinking she'd go to the cottage and bribe the girl out with a lemon bar. It turned out that she didn't have to bribe her at all.

  Ashlyn was practically behind her when she turned around.

  She put a hand to her heart. "You are the quietest little girl. Are you hungry?"

  Ashlyn nodded.

  "Lemon bar or raspberry cookie?"

  Ashlyn pointed to the lemon bar.

  "That’s my favorite, too." She hesitated. "You're not allergic to lemon or anything, are you?"