For Alice, With Love

Chapter 13 - Cooked

 "We inventoried the condo before we sold it. How many paintings are we talking about?"

Chris listened to paper rustles on the other end of the line and looked at the clock. His stomach rumbled on cue, and he grimaced. It was time to get off the damned phone and find dinner.

"Three. All by some unknown artist. Says 'bought at local antiques dealer after marriage' but the shop isn't listed, hmmm... Well, looks cut and dry, my friend. We have written authorization from her lawyer to have them include all artwork in the deal."

Chris breathed a sigh of relief. Good. Ass officially covered.

"Curious. What are they worth? Did we appraise them?" he asked. "Maybe she thinks they are expensive enough to sell? Lord knows I didn't buy them, she's the one that decorated that place. I just paid the bills. I never paid attention to that kind of thing."

Frank hummed again. "They're not worth much. Local artist, not well known... Maybe $5k for the set?"

"Huh. Well thanks, Frank. Local artist. Didn't think Gill had a taste for that kind of stuff. She was always into modern art. Weird sculptures and artwork that was nothing but paint splashes or stripes."

"Yeah. Fella by the name of A. Harris? Ring any bells? Got to say, from the pictures, they're pretty, I guess. Want me to send them over? Hey, they remind me of that beach not far from where you are now. Where we took the kids one summer."

Chris nearly dropped the phone. His ex-wife had bought some of Mel's paintings?

"Juniper beach, you mean?" he finally got out.

"Yeah! Juniper Beach. Great place."

"Send them over, Frank. Might be good to know which ones she wants if I have to go in and get them, to make her stop being... Well, you know," he uttered as he strode to the den, and squinted at the corner of Mel's painting above the couch. A. Harris.

Holy shit.

Frank chuckled, and they finished the conversation. Chris made his way back to the office, and immediately clicked on the email Frank had zapped over, with the pictures of the art. He tried to remember them, but couldn't. She had decorated that guest suite bathroom with a beach theme. He'd been too busy to care. Now he wished he had noticed them.

Wished with all his heart, because it stopped the moment he opened the attachments.

A. Harris. Right in the corner, the same as the painting he had just looked at. He sat back in disbelief and looked at the screen. These were indeed Juniper Beach. At the outlet into the bay. He recognized some of the landmarks, big trees, and the trio of boulders at one end. That had been where Mel and Alice had gone with their friends to be beach bums and teenagers without parents around. One of their favourite places, he remembered.

His mind swirled. What in heck was Gillian doing with Mel's paintings? What was she playing at now?

#

Mel dropped her gloves into the basket by the door in the back mud room, and pried off her muck boots. Her stomach was so empty the sides were stuck together, and she wandered to the kitchen to see what was in the fridge. Before she got there, the scent of cooking food met her.

Cooking? Was her mom here? She stepped around the corner, and Chris, her half-apron with flying pigs across it bunched up across his waist, and a spatula in his hand, was scrambling eggs. He looked adorable, and she leaned on the doorframe a moment to watch him. He must've sensed her, because he stopped humming and turned when she did.