Rarities Unlimited 03 - Die in Plain Sight

too well that there was no replacement for lost paintings. Despite her own carefully indifferent front, she felt as though part of herself had been ripped out after the fire. If it hadn’t been for Susa’s gentle persistence in sorting through the water-and smoke-damaged paintings, Lacey would have thrown out everything in a rage of pain. But Susa had understood the emotions seething beneath the quiet. She had helped, and in helping, healed.
    Lacey wanted to do the same for her.
    “Well, the good news is that you won’t have to sweat your father’s or grandfather’s reputation,” Ian said, pouring himself more coffee and then going to work on Susa’s dinner.
    Lacey looked away from Susa’s still, unhappy face. “What are you talking about?” she asked, although she already knew. Guilt snaked through her because Ian had figured it out, too.
    “The paintings you were so worried about are gone.” His voice was matter-of-fact. “Your family’s home free.”
    The only thing that kept Lacey from clawing at Ian was the anger burning in his dark eyes. “I’d rather have Susa’s paintings back.”
    His fork hesitated. “What about your grandfather’s?”
    “Susa’s are original. Irreplaceable. Grandfather’s…” She shrugged. “Well, we all know what they were.”
    “Susa’s not mourning the loss of her paintings,” Ian said.
    “What?”
    “Are you, Susa?”
    Susa turned toward the table. Tears glittered in her eyes. “No. I’m mourning a past I can touch only through memory and art. Memory fades. Paintings don’t. The artist who painted Lacey’s three canvases was someone who lived and loved and wept and laughed and raged and put it all into landscapes of places that time and man have paved over. Art is all that’s left of what once was.” Tears magnified her beautiful eyes. “Now some of that art is gone. Some of me is gone with it.”
    “But they were only forgeries,” Lacey said hoarsely.
    Susa simply shook her head.
    Lacey’s conscience warred with her emotions. As usual, her conscience lost. Susa wasn’t family, but she felt like it to Lacey. She’d held Lacey when she finally wept in the stinking, dripping mess that had once been her studio. Then Susa had pushed up her sleeves and gently, relentlessly, forced Lacey to keep on sorting through her paintings.
    Seven of the canvases had been set aside for the November show. Susa’s expertise and real enthusiasm had moved Lacey from the dripping ruins of the present to a future bright with possibility.
    It was a gift Lacey could return.
    “How would you like to take a trip with me to a storage unit?”

Savoy Ranch
    Friday night
38
    W ard Forrest pinched the bridge of his nose and cursed the years that had made him need glasses to read print that had once been as plain as a whale in a parking lot. Even the fire in the hearth, which usually soothed him, was making his eyes hurt.
    “We can do this tomorrow,” Savoy said.
    “No.” Ward settled the reading glasses back on his nose and picked up the legal papers once more. “I can’t believe that bitch wants to screw more land out of us for the same amount of stock in New Horizons.”
    Savoy didn’t bother to answer. “Bitch” was the nicest thing Ward had called Angelique White tonight. “She senses weakness and wants to know how bad it is.”
    “You think I don’t know that?” Ward retorted. “If I didn’t need her cash, I’d tell her to piss up a rope.”
    Honey Bear’s tail thumped against Ward’s ankles. He nudged the dog with his foot. The tail thumped faster.
    “But we do need her cash,” Savoy said for the tenth time in an hour, “especially after that settlement with Concerned Citizens for Sane Development. Besides, it’s a good business fit. New Horizons has cash and no land. We have land we can’t sell or develop without costly court battles, and no one is willing to lend money at a rate that would turn a profit for us.”
    “You’re preaching to the choir.”
    “I’ll leave that to Angelique. Are you going to sign this ‘agreement to agree’ tonight or do you want to sit on it for a while?”
    “Damn that bitch anyway,” Ward said bitterly. “If she hadn’t dragged her feet about developing, a lot of this would already be done.”
    “What bitch are you talking about now?”
    “Your mother. Always whining about her precious land and then spending money hand over fist like it grew on trees. Should’ve been born a frigging