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Seaside Knitters 02 - Patterns in the Sand Page 2
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The James paintings?
Nell joined in. Imagine, finding those paintings all these years after Robert James death.
Billy was fortunate to get them, Rachel Wooten said. That man has more connections than anyone I know. An attorney in the county office building, Rachel was an infinite source of information, though she was always discreet in her conversation about things going on in the granite building. Rachel and her husband, Don, were among the handful of lingerers reluctant to leave the comfort of the Endicotts deck after enjoying platters of grilled scallops, Nells vegetable pasta, and icy martinis made with Ben Endicotts secret touch.
It came at the perfect time for Billy, Jane Brewster said. The Sobel Gallery needs a boost. It seems Billy is either riding high and leading the good life or desperately coming up with ways to bolster his bottom line, and right now hed like to see a little more profit.
I think this new wife of Billys might need bigger coffers, Ham suggested. He stroked his graying beard. Natalie Sobel likes nice things.
The others laughed. Billy Sobel was a colorful character in Canary Cove, the small artists community in Sea Harbor. Hed had a number of wives and lady friends, and as Ben, Nell, and their artist friends knew, his financial situation was often directly related to his love life. Or how well he had done in Atlantic City. Or at Foxwoods. His new wife was a powerhouse, and they had all noticed that Billy was marching to a different drummer since Natalie Sobel had entered his life.
And that wasnt all bad, Ben had confided to Nell. Natalie liked to spend money, but she kept track of it, toosomething Billy wasnt always so good at.
Billy always lands on his feet, though, Ham Brewster continued. Hell be fine.
As founders of the Canary Cove art colony, Jane and Ham Brewster were like parents to the artists and gallery owners who called the Sea Harbor neighborhood home, and though the Brewster gallery always did fine, Nell knew that fine for Jane and Ham happened only when the entire colony of artists was thriving.
What about the Fishtail Gallery, Aidan? Anything new with you? Nell looked over at Aidan Peabody, his long, lean body stretched out on a deck chair. If Ben is a barometer, youre doing fine. Hes brought home three of your carvings this summer.
Ben has excellent taste. Aidans slow smile softened the lines of his face.
I find that I can communicate with your art, Peabody, Ben said. It speaks to me.
The group laughed. Aidans imaginative woodcarvings of everything from craggy-faced, life-sized fishermen to sea urchin mirrors always drew a crowd of visitors.
He wont sell me the mermaid, though, Ben said. And I have fallen head over heels in love with her. The small wooden carving of a mermaid sat next to a vase of flowers on the desk in Aidans studio. And no matter how many times Ben suggested he take her home to live a lifestyle more suitable to her charm and beauty, Aidan refused to part with her.
Nell looked over at Ben. When she smiled, the deck lights reflected off her cheekbones and the lines in her face disappeared. She was twenty-five again, and in love with her college suitor all over again. Im only a bit jealous, Aidan, she said, her eyes on Ben.
Aidan rested his head back against the chair and tilted it toward Nell. And youve no need to be, lovely Nell. I have my mermaid . . . and Ben has his. Aidan took a drink of wine and his eyes half closed. He breathed deeply, his chest rising and falling. I dont quite know what Id do without this Friday time on your deck. Theres magic in whatever you two do for us.
The magic is probably in Bens martinis. But you do look like you need a break tonight. Nell pulled her chair closer to Aidans chaise while others moved off to refresh drinks and reload the CD player. Shed noticed how quiet Aidan had been for most of the evening. Hed arrived late, and then had spent most of the evening nursing a martini or talking quietly with Ben.
Jane caught the end of the conversation and turned her chair toward Nell and Aidan. Ive noticed the same thing. Whats up? She looked over at her husband and motioned him over. Ham mentioned it, too. Not that we want to butt in, but if we can help . . .
Aidan took another drink of wine and set the glass down on the table beside the chaise. Dont worry about me, my friends. Life is good.
I hear you and Billy Sobel seem to be at each others throats, Ham said. Whats that about? He claims youre interfering just a tad too much in his businessthat being chair of the arts council has gone to your head. Any truth to that?
Nah. Billy will be fine. Were working something out between us. Hell see it my way soon. Aidan looked up at Ham with a crooked smile. You know Im always right, dont you?
Youre being cryptic, not right. And youre usually more outspoken when it comes to colony affairs. . . . Jane swirled the wine around in her glass, her eyes on Aidan.
Aidan rolled his head on the pillow and looked over at Nell. What our good friend Jane is really saying is that I am way too outspoken concerning Canary Cove affairs.
I wouldnt say outspoken Jane began.
Oh, sure she would, Ham interrupted. You can be a real SOB, Aidan. But you keep people on their toes. And thats not all bad. Those art council meetings were mighty dull until you took your turn as chair. Watching you and Billy go at each other is almost as exciting as a Patriots play-off game.
Thanks, buddy, Aidan said, sitting up in the chaise and swinging his long legs to the side. SOB may be the nicest thing Ive heard all week. But, hey, it is what it is. We all have our opinions on the best way to take care of our little neighborhood of shops. He forced a laugh. Lets just hope Billy doesnt bring his buddies from Jersey to lean on me.
They all laughed. Billy Sobel owned a gallery in New Jersey as well as one in Sea Harbor, and he represented dozens of artists work. Rumors were always spinning around the cove about some of the more colorfuland shadyaspects of his life. Nell remembered when he first came to Canary Cove and the joke around town was that a Soprano had settled in Canary Coveand could the two fly together? But Nell knew Billy to be generousand even gentle under the tough exterior and gravely voice.
Speaking of opinions, Jane said, D. J. Delaney seems to have taken quite an interest in our artists neighborhood of late.
Nell saw the expression on Aidans face turn sour at the mention of the Sea Harbor developers name.
D.J. is . . . how shall I say it . . . ambitious? Ham said. He is determined that his construction and development company own the Cape, I think Ham looked over at Aidan. Rumor has it that he plans to get his sticky hands on your extra land and turn it into a nice, fancy, moneymaking inn for art collectors and tourists.
And he talks like hes almost there, Rachel added, walking back over to the group and joining into the conversation. Hes been doing some title searches over at the county offices. Are you making a deal with D.J. that you havent told us about, Aidan? She lifted her brows in a teasing fashion, knowing, as they all did, that selling the lovely treed acreage behind his studio and home would be the last thing Aidan Peabody would do.
Over my dead body. He came to the council meeting this month and threw that plan on the table as if he had sense. Cant you see his marketing plan? Come see the artists at work. Monkeys in a zoo. Aidan shook his head in disgust. Hes a damn fool, and I told him as much.
As you said, Aidan, each to his own opinion. Nell picked up a plate of truffles and passed it around, trying to soften the conversation. Nell didnt mind conflict, but not around good food.
What exactly does that arts council do? Brendan spoke up from the side of the deck.
Jane and Ham are really the experts, Aidan said, nodding to his friends. They set it up some years back as a way to keep the colony strong. All the artists contribute some of their earnings to the council treasuryand we do repairs,
make sure the city keeps our streets clean, help out new shops, that sort of thing.
We have something to say about new shops coming in, too, and what kind of improvements are made to galleries, how exhibits are handled. Its a little like a homeowners association, Jane added. It helps all of us in the long run, though there are some mighty heated conversations in the process.
Of which Billy is a fine example, Ham added. And D.J. Everyone gets their say. And we take turns as chair. This happens to be Aidans year.
And the council is responsible for starting the Arts Foundation, too, Nell said, pointing out a wonderful entity begun a couple years back. In addition to scholarships and grants, a summer arts academy for kids had been started the year before, thanks to Foundation money. Nell herself spent time writing grants for it and sitting on the board.
But . . . , Aidan started to add a comment, then stopped abruptly and sat back in the chair, holding his silence.
Tony Framingham has contributed heavily to the Foundation, Ham said.
Nell nodded. The young businessman, wealthy by defaultbecause of the dishonest dealings of his familyhad tried to make up for some of his familys devious and tragic past by contributing to Sea Harbor causes, especially the Arts Foundation. And that money will be put to good use, as Tony intended.
Izzy spotted a lull in the conversation and walked over to the group, carrying a stack of flyers. Did everyone see the posters Brendan brought? She spread them out on a low table near the chairs, then smoothed one of the pieces and held it up. The poster read:
Art at Night
Join us one and all.
Sunday at dusk . . . and beyond.
Canary Cove
In broad colorful strokes the poster announced the next open-studio night of the summer, inviting the whole town to gather in the Canary Cove neighborhood to support the artists work, to experience art beneath the stars, and to eat, dance, drink, and be merry. Beneath the words was a soft watercolor of the quaint old galleries and shops clustered together along the windy lanes at the edge of the sea. It was a night scene, and tiny lightslike the smallest Christmas tree lightstwinkled out from the print.
This is beautiful, Brendan, Jane said, rising out of her chair and moving to Izzys side. She picked up another poster. Just lovely. Im tempted to frame one. We will ask storekeepers to keep them, and put them up each month.
We can plaster the town with them, Cass said, looking over Janes shoulder. My fishing buds will hang them in every tavern in town.
The others laughed and passed the posters around the admiring group.
Aidan pushed himself off the chaise and walked over to look at the poster. Good job, Slattery, he said. These should help get the good word out. Thanks.
Brendan shrugged, seemingly embarrassed at the attention. Opening the studios and shops to everyone is a good idea.
It most certainly is, Birdie said. The whole town loves it. Birdie picked up one of the posters and looked down her nose, through her glasses, at the painting at the bottom of the poster. And you, young man, have done a lovely job of portraying the evening with your lovely brushstrokes. So you paint? Birdie asked.
Brendan nodded. Watercolors, he said. Plein air.
Birdies white brows lifted again. Oh? That impresses me. Painting from photographs and imagination is lovely, but I am most admiring of artists who get out there in nature and paint what is right in front of them. Id like to see your work sometime. Im always interested in promoting local artists.
You should take her up on that, Jane said. Birdie Favazza is the best friend an artist could have. Shes kind of an arbiter of taste. If she likes something, she tells her legion of friends about itand they usually like it, too.
Kind of like Oprah, Ben teased.
Do you have favorite places to paint? Birdie said, glaring at Ben to hush.
Well, Im a mountain bikerI take my paints with me and paint what I see up in the mountains.
There arent too many of those in Sea Harbor, Izzy said.
Brendan laughed. Ill adapt. Im not here forever.
Well, even though we are down here at sea level, your painting of Canary Cove is lovely, Birdie said. And a wonderful depiction of our festive Art at Night gathering.
Opening the studios, galleries, and small restaurants to the whole town one Sunday night a month was Aidan, Jane, and Hams brainchild. Festive and upbeat, townspeople and vacationers alike packed the narrow streets and shops on the open-studio nighta perfect summer pastimeand a boon to the artists in the neighborhood.
Youre all coming, right?
Are you kidding, Jane? We wouldnt miss it, Izzy said. Not to slight the rest of you, but Ive become addicted to Rebecca Marks handblown beads. Theyre amazing . . . and Ellen Marks tell me theyre having a special sale every Art at Night.
Rebecca is terrific, Cass said. Or at least her art is. She can be kind of a pill. But I must admit Ive bought more than my share of her beadstheyre miniature works of art.
The magical glass beads had received several awards recently, and Nell found herself nodding in agreement. In just one year, the Lampworks Gallery had become a favorite Canary Cove studio. Rebecca was the artist and Ellen managed the shop, handling the business end. Nell sometimes felt sorry for Ellen for having to deal with the flamboyant, temperamental Rebecca, but she seemed to have infinite patience when it came to her younger sister.
Seems theyre doing some remodeling over there, too, Ham said. Ellen tells me that Rebecca wants skylights. They pass your code, Peabody?
Aidan passed up the truffles Nell passed around a second time and he sat back down at the edge of the deck chair. Its ridiculous, he muttered, looking down at the floor.
The sharpness in Aidans voice went unchallenged, and Nell suggested a final call for seconds on dessert. She didnt want the conversation to hover around Rebecca and Ellen Marks. Aidan had dated Rebecca for a short while, recently calling it quits. The fact that the Lampworks artist hadnt come with him tonight added near certainty to the rumors. It was a short-lived romance, Nell thought, and perhaps explained Aidans sharp tone. But whatever the reason, though an evening on the Endicotts deck often stirred spirited conversation, Nell insisted it end peacefully.
Reading his wifes thoughts, Ben walked through the group with two brandy snifters balanced between his fingers and a carafe in the other hand. And on a more pleasant topic, brandy, anyone?
Aidan rested his elbows on his knees, a crooked smile on his face, and reached out for a glass. A half inch, perhaps. You know my weakness, Ben.
Well, one of them, anyway. He smiled at his friend and poured the amber liquid into the snifter bowl.
Speaking of weakness, Ham said, blunt fingers smoothing his beard, Ive got to find me a bed. Saturdays are busy days in the cove. He pulled himself out of his chair and reached a hand down to his wife. Come, Janie, dear. Your chariot awaits. And Brendan, you, too. Youre on early duty at Sobels tomorrowwant a lift?
Brendan stood and yawned. Sounds like a plan.
Aidan began unfolding his lanky body from the chair. Its contagious. I guess I ought to move along, too.
Nell watched her old friends with affection. Ham and Jane had been fixtures in Sea Harbor since a rock concert drew them to Boston from Berkeley in the early seventies. A side visit to Sea Harbor changed their lives. They fell in love with the winding coast, the sleepy village, and the rock formations, and they never left.
Aidan Peabody came along a while later, a decade after the Brewsters. He bought up some prime real estate on the shore, right in the heart of the artists development, and became another rock in the community by the sea.
Good friends, all of them.
Ive wrapped up key lime pie for each of you, Nell said, fol
lowing Aidan across the deck. Ben and I dont want it around.
Meaning Nell doesnt want me to eat it, Ben said. He reached over and patted Nells arm as she walked by. She likes me lean and rock-solid.
Nells soft laugh trailed behind her as she headed through the French doors to the open kitchen. She liked Ben healthy, was what she liked. And a heart attack scare a few years earlier had changed their eating and living patterns, though a little bit of key lime pie on a moonlit Friday night could be easily walked off along the beach in the morning.
A muffled ring broke into strains of soft jazz coming from the speakers. Nell glanced at the clock above the stove, then down at a lumpy knit bag near the kitchen counter. Her heart skipped a beat. A sliver of worry cut into the evenings peace. Silly, she scolded herself.
Just because she and Ben would turn out the lights and head upstairs as soon as the last car rolled down their driveway didnt mean other peoples night ended. Cass and Izzys evening might be just startingBrendan Slattery, tooand it was Izzys phone, after all. It was probably friends inviting her to meet them at the Gull. Or maybe the Edge over near Pelican Pier, where the thirties crowd often gathered to bring their busy week to a relaxing end.