Hidden Treasures

She put down a photo of Joseph Ferris’s haunting watercolor Momentum and pivoted toward the door. And came nose to nose with her father.

“Meghan.”

“Dad.” Meghan crossed her arms and did her best imitation of Caitlin. It must have worked, because a deep red stain crept out from under the collar of her father’s oxford shirt and worked its way to his cheekbones.

Patrick coughed. “Ah…I was wondering where you were.”

I’ll bet you were.

“It’s three o’clock. Tea and cookie time.”

“My watch must be slow,” Patrick muttered.

Meghan sighed and decided to stop being Evie. And Caitlin. Especially Caitlin. Her suspicions were ridiculous. This was her father. Patrick McBride. The absentminded professor. Mr. Integrity himself.

“Why the sudden interest in Joseph Ferris, Dad? And please tell me that you aren’t planning to supplement your retirement income by becoming an art thief.” Meghan laughed.

Patrick didn’t. Instead he gave her a thoughtful look. “Do you think it falls under the label of stealing if a person is taking something back that technically belonged to them in the first place?”

Meghan groped for the plate of Oreos she’d set on the desk. “Does the something that technically belongs to someone else happen to be a work by Ferris?”

“Yes.”

Meghan shoved a cookie in her mouth. Never mind twisting the two sides apart and delicately scraping out the cream center. “You’re going to…to steal a Joseph Ferris?”

Patrick smiled. “Of course not. I wouldn’t begin to know what an authentic Ferris even looks like.”

“Well, that’s a relief—”

“That’s why I was hoping you’d do it.”

“Let me get this straight.” An hour later Meghan had a new appreciation for Evie’s suspicions about their dad’s dedication to his side business. Her younger sister had tried to warn her, after all. “A woman named Nina Bonnefield contacted you by e-mail, claiming she knew Ferris personally. He supposedly left a gift for her on an estate he visited in northern Wisconsin almost twenty years ago. And she hired you to find it for her.”

“That’s it in a nutshell,” Patrick said, way too cheerfully in Meghan’s opinion.

Of their own volition, Meghan’s fingers walked across the desk toward the plate of Oreos. Until she realized she’d eaten them all. “Why doesn’t this Nina Bonnefield go back to the estate and retrieve it herself? If it really belongs to her.”

There, she’d said it.

“That’s…complicated.”

Of course it was. “Dad, this whole thing sounds kind of fishy to me. You said she isn’t even sure if the gift Ferris left for her was a painting. Maybe it was a coffee mug. Or a souvenir toothpick holder.”

“For reasons Nina—Ms. Bonnefield—can’t share, she can’t go back. That’s why she needs my help. There’s a rumor the island is going up for sale and—”

“Wait a second. Did you say island?” Meghan interrupted.

“The Halloway estate is on a private island on Blue Key Lake, near the Chequamegon National Forest. It’s been in the family for years but they closed it up in the late eighties.”

Halloway. Halloway. The name stirred up something in Meghan’s subconscious, but another thought darted in and pushed that one aside for the moment.

“So Nina is somehow related to the family that owns the island?”

Patrick’s gaze bounced around the room and finally came to rest on Meghan. “No offense, but I promised Ms. Bonnefield I’d keep that part confidential. Jacob and I checked out her story, and both of us believe she’s telling the truth. She sent me a copy of the letter from Ferris and it does sound as if he left something for her. A thank you of some sort for her friendship and encouragement.”

“That would be some thank-you,” Meghan muttered.

“His paintings are valuable?”

“Paintings, drawings, sculptures. He dabbled in everything. Ferris is one of those artists who gained fame postmortem. By the time the critics finally noticed him and acknowledged his genius, he was in the final stages of pancreatic cancer. The collection of his work isn’t all that sizable because his career was short, so what’s out there got snapped up right away. If there’s still one floating around, I’m sure someone would have noticed. It may have already been sold.”

“Or tucked away in a closet on an estate in northern Wisconsin.”

And Meghan thought she was an optimist.

She tucked her teeth into her bottom lip and tried to figure out a way to discourage her father from getting himself into a potentially sticky situation. And helping oneself to a valuable piece of art definitely fell into that category, no matter who claimed ownership. “There has to be a way Nina Bonnefield can find out if the Ferris is there without involving you.”

“There is a reason, but I can’t tell you what it is. It’s—”

“Confidential. I know.” She hated to ask the obvious. “So what’s your plan?”

Patrick’s eyes lit up and Meghan tried not to groan. Somehow she knew she wasn’t going to like the answer.

“The house is going to be opened up temporarily for a family wedding in a few weeks. According to my sources—”

Meghan blinked. His sources?

“—after the wedding, the Halloways plan to auction off the contents of the house before the actual sale of the island goes through. From what I’ve heard, the family used to be quite a patron of the arts. There’s a sizable collection of paintings and sculptures there. I’m more familiar with antiques, so I wouldn’t be much help.”

Meghan’s eyes narrowed. She had a background in art. She remembered what her dad had initially said about her finding the Ferris. She’d assumed he’d been kidding. Now she wasn’t so sure.

“Dad, please tell me you aren’t thinking I’m a shoo-in for the job.”

“Of course not, sweetheart.” Patrick looked surprised by the suggestion. “I told Ms. Bonnefield you’re a photographer.”

That much was true. Meghan relaxed a little, relieved she and her dad were on the same page. It didn’t sound like either of them would be of much use to the mysterious Ms. Bonnefield. Thank goodness.

“So she decided to find someone else to play Nancy Drew?”

“Not quite.” Patrick plucked off his glasses and rubbed them against his shirttail.

Warning bells suddenly went off in Meghan’s head. That particular gesture meant her father was either nervous—or stalling. “Daaaad?”

“I had no idea she was going to pull a few strings.”

“What kind of strings?”

“Parker Halloway has hired you as her wedding photographer.”