The Forbidden Brother

“No,” she admitted reluctantly. “But there’s a definite market from tourists who want souvenirs to remind them of their holidays.”

“So why the show? If they aren’t any good, let’s get rid of them. I think they’d be more suited to the harbor tourist traps than a reputable gallery like this one.”

“I didn’t say they weren’t any good, just not up to your mother’s caliber. And she wants to have a showing of some of his work. There are so many other galleries they could choose to represent their work, but she chose this one.” And maybe holding the showing would assuage some of her own guilt. Would things have turned out differently if she’d given Jordan a one-man show like he’d asked?

“So you’re doing this for my mother?”

“Primarily.”

“What happened at his showing last winter?” Jed asked.

“What showing last winter?” she asked. A sinking feeling swamped her, remembering his obsession for a show. Had Jordan turned elsewhere? Maybe another gallery owner had found something in his work she’d missed. She looked at the picture, searching for an elusive aspect that would change its value.

“He said he was going to have a one-man show, said he’d invite me to the gala event. It pays to have connections in the art world, as I recalled the letter went. When no invitation came, I assumed he’d just forgotten. Not that I could have come. I was in Brazil at the time.”

“He didn’t have a show that I know of,” Laura said, remembering how passionately he’d pushed her for the chance. But he’d not wanted an alcove at the gallery when she had halfheartedly suggested that compromise. Jordan had wanted to commandeer the entire showroom in a solo production. Jordan’s assessment of his work differed from Laura’s.

“You’d know—it was this gallery he was talking about,” Jed said.

She turned back to the large table in the center of the room. Jed followed her with his eyes.

Laura was in the middle of a family situation she didn’t want to be involved with. She didn’t know all the ins and outs, but this man was not the beloved son Jordan had been. Was there going to be a fight about Jordan’s estate? Nothing was as it seemed. She wished not for the first time that she’d never met Jordan Brodie. Never fallen in love with the man. Never discovered him in bed with that beautiful woman.

“Jordan wanted to have an exclusive one-man show with no other paintings or sculptures to compete. I couldn’t do that. It never went any farther than discussion. I’m sorry if he thought otherwise.” She’d known he’d never been happy with her decision. He’d constantly pushed to have her display his work; and she’d constantly refused.

“When were you two going to get married?” Jed asked abruptly.

“We never set a date,” she said shortly. “Why?”

“For a grieving almost-wife, you seem fairly resigned to his death,” he commented.

“For me it happened three months ago, you’re the one who just learned about it,” she said. “I don’t wish to get in the middle of a family argument. Your mother and father asked me to do this. If, as executor of the estate, you say no, I will go along with your decision. But you need to inform your mother.”

Laura tried to think of all the different things she’d have to deal with to stop a show at this stage. The caterer would be all right. She’d have to write off the prepublicity. Maybe she could get the printer to cut her a break. She used him exclusively, so maybe he’d be generous.

Jed turned back to the paintings, pulling the first one forward so he could see the next one, and the next. Soon he’d looked at every one she’d selected.

“This all?”

“All I’m planning to show. I’ve allocated the alcove to the left for Jordan’s work. Your mother isn’t pleased with it, but it’s the best I can offer.”

“He has more?”

“Of course. As far as I know he never sold a thing. He has stacks of canvasses at the cottage. I chose the ones that I thought best represented his work.” And had the most chance for a sale in case Maria changed her mind.

“My mother didn’t choose these?” Jed asked, replacing them against the wall.

“She can’t bring herself to look at them yet. She trusts me to do the best for him.” Laura wondered if Maria would continue in that trust if she ever learned Laura had broken the engagement the day before Jordan had died. She looked away, remembering. It would be a long time before she’d forget that betrayal. She’d loved him and he’d thrown that away. But to keep his mother from knowing, Laura had not told anyone. She didn’t think the distraught woman could cope with more.

“Has she ever seen his work?” Jed asked.

“I suppose so. Why wouldn’t she have seen what he was doing over the years?” Laura had never questioned that. The dinners she’d attended focused on discussion about works in progress. Jordan always had a good story about what he was working on. Had Maria seen his recent paintings?

“My mother recognizes talent. There is very little showing here.”

“Maybe as a mother, she thinks everything her sons do is perfect,” Laura said, wondering not for the first time what Maria’s reaction would be when she saw the work hanging from the gallery walls. To hear her talk, Jordan had extraordinary talent. She was going to be so disappointed. Laura had asked her several times to come look at the paintings. Maria steadfastly refused.

“Not all sons,” he said absently. “Can you give me an appraisal for tax purposes? Not just of these, but of all he did?”

Laura nodded slowly. She could do a formal appraisal. She’d done it before and her credentials gave her the expertise to be accepted by the IRS. However, she wasn’t sure she wanted to. She was trying to forget Jordan, move on with her life. What would being surrounded by his work, visiting the cottage where she’d been so happy and so devastated, do to her equilibrium?

“I’m heading to his cottage next. How many canvasses will I find there?”

“Lots. I never inventoried or counted. He has them stacked against the walls of his studio.”

Jed glanced at his watch. “Have you had lunch yet?”

Surprised at the question she shook her head.

“Come eat with me and tell me what I need to know about art and how it’s appraised and how much it’ll cost and how long the appraisal process will take,” Jed said—ordered more like.

“There’re other appraisers around. Maybe you should get one of them.” She didn’t want to go back to the cottage.

“Conflict of interest?”

“I would give you an honest assessment. But you might wish for someone else.” Would she truly give a reliable, unbiased appraisal or would the hurt and anguish of the last few months color her opinions? No, where art was concerned, nothing stood in the way of her honest and forthright opinion.

“You know his work. You’d be best.”

Jed’s attention focused on her. Those dark eyes seemed to peer deep into her innermost part. Her breath caught for a moment. She felt a warmth and curiosity that surprised her. What was there about this man that caught her unaware? He was grieving for his brother. That should give them a common bond. She grieved for Jordan’s death. And for the lost love she’d so happily embraced.

Laura blinked. She could almost feel the energy radiating from Jed. The focus on her was unsettling. He was not at all like Jordan despite his looks. She’d do well not to confuse the two just because they looked identical.

“I’m not really keen on that kind of work,” she said, stalling. She didn’t want to spend any more time with Jed Brodie than absolutely necessary. Or with the bittersweet memories of Jordan when he first began courting her.

“But you know art values.”

She nodded.

“You don’t want my folks to know everything is worthless, is that it? They’ll blame you if you don’t appraise it high? And that would damage your relationship,” Jed guessed.

She shook her head. “I never said Jordan’s paintings are worthless. They are not up to your mother’s work. She thinks he was tremendously talented. I hate to be the one to disappoint her. I like your mother.”

“Don’t worry about Mom. Where art is concerned, she’s totally honest.”

Laura was trying to gradually pull back from Maria and Jefferson and their grief. She longed for the business relationship she’d enjoyed when Hugo was still alive and running the gallery. Before Jordan had swept her off her feet. Before things had gone so wrong and emotions and relationships became tangled.

She studied the man in front of her another minute. He looked so much like Jordan she had to keep reminding herself he wasn’t. If he kept looking at her, she’d forget business decorum and reach out to touch him. Once burned, twice shy was the old saying. She needed to be more cautious in her personal life from now on. Not take at face value words designed to convince her she was special. This man was yummy to look at, but was he any different from his brother on the inside?