Margaret and Nicole opened the doors minutes after I got in line.
“I’m so glad you came.” Margaret kissed me on the cheek. “I wasn’t sure we’d see you tonight.”
“I’m excited to see Bellamy’s work.”
“We scaled back,” Nicole said. From her frown, she wasn’t as happy to see me as her aunt. “The tone of the exhibit changed without its centerpiece, and coming up with a new message on the fly is challenging.”
“I didn’t realize you were so involved in the presentation of the exhibit.” The last time I’d spoken to her, she sounded more interested in her aunt’s safety than the work.
She waved her hand dismissively. “I’m not. But I want to make sure this isn’t too stressful for my aunt.”
“You underestimate her.”
“You don’t know me or my family,” Nicole gasped. Margaret turned away from the gentleman she’d been talking to.
“I’m sorry.” My apology was for Margaret, not her niece. Nicole got under my skin, giving me flashbacks to the brokerage firm, the middle management that always made me feel like a total hot mess.
She rolled her eyes and accepted a drink off the waiter’s tray before turning away from me. Her hand was on the arm of an older man, and she laughed too loudly. Great. I’d already managed to cause a scene in the first minute of the party.
Maybe the girls were still stuck in traffic on this street…they could come save me after all.
“Don’t worry about her,” Margaret said. “She means well, but she doesn’t understand people like us.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. Margaret was cool and sophisticated in her patterned wrap dress, knee-high boots, and straight gray hair that shined like glass, and even though I looked great in Lucky, I worried I smelled like cat pee.
“What do you mean by people like us?”
“The ones that march to the beat of their own drum.” She gave me a knowing smile and pulled me away from the crowd. I scanned the room, looking for Persephone. The cat didn’t give off vibes like she’d be the type to hide under the furniture in a room full of strangers. I expected her to be perched on top of one of the exhibits, daring the patrons to admire her more than the art.
“Did Henry call you?” she asked in a low voice.
“He did.” My heart thumped at the mention of his name.
“I hope you don’t mind I gave him your number. He’s a bit of a lost soul. I thought maybe the two of you would hit it off.”
I hadn’t heard from him since our night out, so he might have been reconsidering his offer of the baseball game. “We went to the ICA, and he introduced me to Bellamy’s friend’s exhibit. After this week, I’ll be an art expert.”
“All you need to know about art is that it expresses emotions that words can’t do justice.” She smiled at someone who came into the gallery, and I had a feeling my time with her was about to end for the night. “It should make you ask questions and dig deeper. You might never find the answer you’re looking for, but you’ll learn so much more than you ever expected. Not many are willing to go on that journey. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
There was a message in there. I accepted an hors d'oeuvres from the tray and popped it into my mouth as I scanned the room. I’d come into the night still wondering if Henry might know something about the theft or if there was an overzealous art dealer looking to cut out the middleman, but I had to consider that Margaret had wanted to keep Bellamy’s paintings for herself.
She moved through the crowded room with ease. She was all about the art, and even though she had no problems talking to anyone here, they weren’t her people. She was cooler than them, more cultured, and from the undertones of what Nicole and Henry had said, probably had more money than everyone here—especially if she was sitting on the goldmine of Bellamy’s work.
Somehow I’d wound up in the corner, with multiple hors d’oeuvres napkins balled in my hand giving tight smiles to anyone who looked in my general direction.
Awkward.
I had to find Persephone.
Even more awkward.
I squeezed through the crowd, apologizing as I bumped into people.
“Addie,” Henry called to me. He was standing with Nicole. Maybe it was the champagne, but she’d definitely changed her tune toward him when he was in front of her. He’d worn a suit tonight. His hair curled around his ears, and he pushed his glasses up his nose as he smiled at me.
Nicole glared at me. Whatever.
“Hi. I was hoping I’d see you here tonight.”
“Likewise.”
“I’ll leave the two of you alone.” Nicole turned on her heel.
“She does not like me,” I said.
“She doesn’t like any of us.” He laughed. “She sees this gallery as a nuisance and as a place she can cash in. When she doesn’t get what she wants, she projects it onto Margaret not being able to handle it.”
Interesting. I wasn’t sure I could trust Henry yet, so I had to be careful with my words. He could be baiting me. As much as Margaret thought I had a place in this world, it was completely unfamiliar to me, and I was definitely the outsider. “Margaret can totally handle it.”
He nodded. “She’s not a woman to be underestimated. She’ll have these art dealers eating out of her hand by the end of the night. The walls will be bare.”
So much for thinking they were taking advantage of her. “How do you know which ones are the art dealers?”
“They’re the ones on their phones, talking to the houses they work for, trying to figure out what they can offer. There will be bidding wars for a couple of these pieces.”
“What kind of money will they go for?”
He shrugged. “Six figures, probably. Maybe seven.”
My mouth dropped. “Who can spend that kind of money on a painting?” My voice was too loud, and a few partygoers turned and gave me a look. The same one Nicole had shot in my direction.
At the shelter, a shoestring budget felt like a luxury.
“Not many. They’re investors, people looking to put their money in something other than the stock market.” His eyes scanned the room. “Most of the people are here looking for connections of other kinds. They don’t care about the art.”
“That bothers you.”
His shoulders tensed under his suit. “It does. Bournaise’s work has a message, and these people don’t care enough to actually look at the paintings long enough to see what he was trying to tell them. It’s a waste. I told Margaret this was the wrong place for her gallery, but this house has been in her family for generations, and it makes sense to her.”
“I guess everyone here has their own agenda.” And time was slipping away from me. This could be my only chance to figure out who’d stolen the painting. I had a feeling they were in this room. If they could get into the gallery without alarming Margaret in the middle of the night, chances were they’d smiled at her and kissed her on the cheek tonight as everyone around them whispered about the scandal. “Is Sully here?”
“Do you see anyone wearing a backward baseball cap and cargo shorts?”
“No.” I laughed. “Excuse me.”
I had to find Persephone.