CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

BROOKE

 

Brooke was more shaken by the wedding disaster than she wanted anyone to know. She and Dylan had agreed to date exclusively, but that was a far cry from getting married. They were still discovering things about one another. What if he decided at the last minute that dating her wasn’t what he really wanted?

When he phoned her that evening, she quickly picked up the call. “Hi. What’s up?”

“Thought it would be nice to sit and relax for a while. Are you at Gran’s house?

“Yes. I’m sitting on the porch reading. Come on over.”

When he arrived, he gave her a kiss and took a seat in a rocking chair next to hers.

“I guess you heard about the wedding mishap,” she said, curious to see his reaction.

“Yeah. Crummy of the groom to run off like that. He must not have wanted to get married after all.”

“I guess,” she said.

He studied her. “Hey, you’re not thinking I’d do anything like that to you, are you? If we decide to take our relationship to that level, I wouldn’t hurt you like that.”

She let out a sigh of relief.

He reached over and clasped her hand. “I don’t play around with the truth. I’ll be totally honest with you.”

“Okay, thanks,” she said, eager to move onto another topic. “How are sales going at Claire’s gallery?”

“I’ve sold one more painting. It’s been terrific exposure for me. That, the gallery in Miami, and now the one in Naples showing my work means better chances for me to sell. I’m grateful that things are going well.”

“Me, too. You deserve it.”

He grinned as he asked her, “Are you going to be able to work on some of your own paintings this week?”

“I should be able to, though we have another wedding next week.” She loved that they could work together, each on a project of their own.

“You’re an inspiration to me,” he said.

She laughed. “I don’t know why, but I love it.” She yawned. “Sorry. It’s been quite a day.”

“Look, I’ll go. With Skye around, we get up early at Mimi’s house. Especially with her father gone.”

“I understand. I’ll see you in the studio right after the breakfast crowd goes.” She stood and sighed as Dylan rose and wrapped his arms around her.

“See you tomorrow.” His lips met hers and all sense of time evaporated as she was carried away on a sea of longing. He did that to her.

###

The next day, as soon as she could, she hurried over to Dylan’s studio. She’d put on her painting clothes—a pair of shorts, an old pair of sneakers, and a yellow T-shirt she’d bought with a picture of a dachshund painting in front of an easel. She loved all dogs; but dachshunds were her favorite.

He looked up from working on a canvas he’d laid on the floor, a red paintbrush in his hand. “There she is, my partner in crime.”

She laughed. “It’s going to feel wonderful to do some work here. The stress of the weekend has rattled us all.”

He kissed her. “Every day is better with you here.”

She threw her arms around him, careful to avoid the paintbrush, and nestled against his chest. She could hear his heart beating a rapid pace. She loved that she could affect him in that way.

They pulled apart smiling at one another.

Dylan’s cell rang. He put down the paintbrush and answered it.

While Brooke pulled out her work and began mixing paints, she couldn’t help overhearing his end of the conversation. It was Claire, and it didn’t sound good. She set down her palette knife and moved closer to him.

His face had lost color, and he looked upset.

“What’s wrong?” she whispered.

He held up a finger. “Claire, are you accusing me of being dishonest with you? That’s not how I operate. I’m going to put you on speaker so Brooke can hear you too.”

“Okay,” said Claire. “I’ll start at the beginning. I just got a call from Laurence Veltmann, who bought your ‘Beach Sunrise’ painting. He and Margery were at a dinner party over the weekend, and the hosts proudly showed them a painting they had recently bought. It is almost identical to theirs, and he was upset. The artist’s name is listed as yours, but the other party paid half the price of ‘Beach Sunrise’.”

“My name was on it? Where did they get the painting?” asked Dylan, looking stricken.

“From a gallery in the Caribbean where they were vacationing,” said Claire. “I need to ask you if ‘Beach Sunrise’ is part of a series that you did? You told me it was the only original.”

“Yes,” said Dylan, his nostrils flaring. “That painting is the only one. I don’t do series. Not with the size and scope of each painting. Did you investigate the gallery?”

“Sadly, the gallery has closed,” said Claire. “But I’m having a friend check out the space. It’s on the French side of St. Maarten. Where would anyone have been able to find information on that painting, enough to reproduce it?”

“You think someone was forging Dylan’s painting and then selling it as his own?” said Brooke aghast.

“I do. My friend will take photos of other paintings for sale in the area to see if any resemble Dylan’s work. It could be that if he’s talented enough, the painter could be forging other artists as well.”

Dylan’s voice was low, shaking. “I think I know where someone could have seen a photo of this particular piece. Not entirely finished but done enough so that it could be copied except for the final touches I made with Brooke.”

Brooke turned to him.

“My friend, Austin Ensley, is a computer guy, and he did some work on my website,” said Dylan. “We showed a photo of the painting almost done with a story about my painting process. If this person was trolling for ideas, he could’ve come across it. Otherwise, there was no way other people could have seen it. I keep them pretty close until I’m ready to show them.”

Brooke felt sick. Austin would be horrified to learn that he may have contributed to someone stealing Dylan’s work.

“I’ll get back to you with more information as I uncover it,” said Claire. “I’m asking Laurence’s friend to look at your printed portfolio to see if they recognize other works of yours at this gallery.” She hesitated. “Dylan, I’m very sorry this has happened. Forgery is not unknown in the art world. Usually at a higher, more professional level, but it happens. People want to make easy money, no matter how they get it.”

“Should I report it? Call the police? What?”

“At this time, there’s nothing that can be done without more information. As I said, I’m hoping this is a one-time thing. I’ll call Laurence and reassure him,” said Claire.

“Can you please send me a photo of the painting his friends bought?” said Dylan. “I need to see it as clearly as possible.”

“Will do,” said Claire. “Sorry to have to give you such bad news, but I’m thankful there are no issues with your work. I will reassure Laurence and Margery on that point.”

“Thanks,” said Dylan. He ended the call and faced Brooke. “Guess I’d better go talk to Austin. We need to fix my website. I want people to know about me but don’t want to show any of my works-in-progress online. I didn’t realize that could be dangerous.”

“Austin is going to feel terrible,” said Brooke. “Want me to come with you?”

“Yes. It’s not his fault. He was just trying to help me.”

Together, they went to find Austin.

He was at Granny Liz’s packing some boxes.

“Where are you going?” Dylan asked.

“Are you moving out?”

Austin shook his head. “No. I bought a little place down the beach to use as my office. It’s too crowded here, and this way when my parents and siblings visit from Atlanta, there’ll be more room for them. I bought it as an investment. I can always rent it out if I decide to move back west.” He grinned at them. “What are the two of you up to?”

“We need to talk about the website you updated for me. There’s been a problem.” Dylan went on to tell Austin about the forgery and how they figured whoever it was that did it had seen the painting on his website and the story of how Dylan put together a painting.

As Dylan talked, Austin’s face grew grim. “I’m sorry, Dylan. It never crossed my mind that someone would want to steal your ideas or recreate the painting itself. That’s awful!”

“Claire, the gallery owner in New York, said such thefts are not unheard of, but I’m sick about it,” said Dylan.” I’m still working hard to get noticed.”

“Apparently you’ve succeeded. I suppose it’s a compliment that someone wants to imitate you, imitation being the height of flattery,” said Austin. “But I don’t like it. Unless you find the person or persons who did it, I don’t suppose there’s anything you can do about it.”

“I guess they’ve come and gone. The gallery closed. Who knows what they told the owner to get my painting shown there?”

Brooke froze. “Do you think they presented himself as you? That’s weird enough to make my skin crawl.”

“Or maybe it was the kind of place that took things on consignment, sort of like an estate sale store,” said Austin. “We just put some paintings from my mother’s house in a store like that.”

Dylan rubbed his chin. “We’ll be getting more information from Claire. In the meantime, let’s take that part about the painting and my style off my website. It was a great idea that went very wrong.”

“I doubt it’s going to happen again, but who knows? Now that this character made it work once, maybe they’ll try it again somewhere else,” said Austin.

Brooke and Dylan exchanged horrified looks.

“How about as soon as I get to my office, I’ll take care of that for you,” said Austin. “Most of my equipment has been set up at the cottage already. But I need to get these boxes out of here. My little brother is coming for a visit sometime, and he’s going to use my old office space for his bedroom.”

“Okay, thanks,” said Dylan. He took Brooke’s elbow and they walked away.

“You can’t let this ruin what you’re working on now,” said Brooke. Dylan looked like a broken man. “If anything, make it spur you to put out more work.”

Dylan turned to her. “What if this ruins my reputation? People might get the wrong idea about my integrity, especially if the press gets hold of this and twists words like they sometimes can do.”

“I’m sure Claire knows the importance of handling things quietly. But if you feel the need to speak to her again, go ahead and call.”

“I think I will. I’ll see you later. I’m going to call it quits for the day. Stay here in the studio if you want.”

“I’ll work a little bit and then clean up,” said Brooke. She felt a need to keep busy because thoughts were flying inside her head. In Dylan’s case, someone copied his painting, signed his name to it, sold it, and took off. She supposed if they could find the person who did it, he or she would claim they didn’t know it was a fake and blah, blah, blah. Impossible to prove. The only positive thing to come out of this was the idea that someone believed Dylan’s work was valuable enough to copy it. Interesting.

Brooke added a few strokes of color to the painting she was working on, wanting to get just the right balance. She knew she was a long way from anyone wanting to copy her work. Still, it gave her satisfaction to work on a painting.

She was cleaning up the studio when Dylan came in. “I’m going to New York to see Claire. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. I need to be able to talk to the Veltmanns and their friends in person. Both Claire and I would feel better if I were there.”

“I understand,” said Brooke. “Anything I can do for you here?”

He shook his head. “No, just keep on doing what you’re doing, giving me moral support.”

“Of course.” She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. “Everything’s going to be all right. Even if you never find the person who did this to you, the Veltmanns and their friends will understand you’re an honorable man.”

“Yes, that’s what’s important to me. I can’t have my reputation sullied by some opportunistic, immoral son-of-a-bitch.” Dylan’s brow creased with anger.

“Do you want me to take you to the airport?” she asked.

“Thanks, but Austin is going to do it. Hopefully, you can pick me up when I return.” He caressed her face with his broad, talented hands. “I’m going to meet Austin out by the gate. I’ll call you tonight.”

He left, and Brooke wondered how everything could change so quickly. She understood how angry Dylan was, his need to go to New York. Integrity was very important to him. It was one of the many qualities she admired about him.

When she returned to Gran’s house, both Charlotte and Livy were there.

“What’s this about some kind of trouble Dylan is in?” Charlotte asked. “Shane was supposed to meet Austin, but he said he had to take Dylan to the airport, that he was having an issue with one of his paintings.”

Brooke sighed and told them the story. “He just wants to make sure everyone understands how upset he is, how he’d never cheat an art patron by selling something of his for far less at another gallery. His reputation is in question, and he doesn’t like it.”

“I know Dylan well enough to understand he’d never play games like that,” said Livy. “Do you think they’ll ever catch the person who did it?”

“Doubtful. Shady person, shady gallery,” said Brooke. “The gallery suddenly closed. Who knows what other paintings were sold there? Maybe they all were fakes.”

“Pretty lousy. People on vacation thinking they were getting a bargain don’t often check too carefully on those things,” said Charlotte. “It can happen.”

“Well, let’s hope Dylan doesn’t get too discouraged. He’s really coming into his own,” said Livy. “And I’m happy for him.” She looked at Brooke. “Both of you.”

Brooke gave her a hug. She could always count on her cousins for support.