When the Flood Falls. J.E. Barnard
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working, but the racks are hypersensitive. Wayne put the bottom floor on lockdown for safety reasons.”
At the door, Terry cleared his throat.
“Oh, coming,” said Rob. “Anyway, call Dee if you have a light-bulb moment. I gave her the inside scoop this afternoon, although Camille got to her, too.”
“That woman is a menace.”
“That she is. I’m utterly thrilled you’re standing tall, hon. Dare I hope you’ll come finish your tour tomorrow?”
“Not tomorrow,” said Terry. “She’ll be sleeping off the magic pill. And you’ll be the test subject in a noose demonstration if you don’t get your ass back in the van.” He walked out. Rob gave Jan a bemused quirk of his eyebrow.
She shrugged. “He’s on a hair-trigger today. At first I thought it was the pills, but now?”
“Could be he’s just tired of getting his hopes up, honey. You’ve been around this treadmill so often since you got sick.” Rob darted across the room and kissed her temple. “Cheer up. If it works, it works. Even if it works part of the time, it’s better than before. Right?” The van’s horn tooted and he hurried out.
Quiet descended. Jan sloshed at the last few dishes, but could not get drawn in again by the play of light on bubbles. No matter how wired her brain was, her body was using up energy her cells couldn’t replace quickly enough. She dragged her afghan out to the deck and nestled down on a lounger to watch the sunset. Bird calls trickled up from Dee’s treetops below. The fragrance of roses drifted down from Jake Wyman’s gardens up the hill. The evening ahead seemed alternately a beautiful dream and unbearably slow. Every time she thought she was comfortable, some muscle somewhere would twitch or tense up and she’d have to shift position. Her mind ran over and over the same old things. Could she have handled Terry better? Why was it on her to handle him, anyway? But could she have said something nicer? He was clearly at the end of his rope over her illness. Like she wasn’t? It was her life and career in the crapper. Round and round and round until she was ready to scream, “Change the playlist, damn it!”
She needed, craved, a mental challenge to distract her. Maybe she could come up with a solution for Rob. She knew almost as much as he did about the selections he’d made for the opening show, and she had five years’ more experience dealing with fine art insurers back when she still had a job. That thought triggered a rerun of Terry’s snarky comment and she briefly lost track of her new goal. She forced herself off the lounger and leaned over the railing to see if Dee’s SUV was still in her drive. If the dogs and the vehicle were home, so was Dee.
Soon she was huffing a bit on the gentle uphill slope of Dee’s driveway. The dogs heard her coming and waited patiently, quietly, as usual sensing her need for a less boisterous welcome. After a short rest on the steps, she made her way around to their pen. They covered her hands in sloppy kisses and shoved their heads over the fence for ear scratches, whuffing in their chests as her fingers found the sweet spots. Doggy breath mingled with the scent of sun-warmed spruce. Behind her, a door opened.
“I thought I heard someone,” said Dee. “You didn’t walk down, did you? It’s been ages since you could do that.”
“I did walk.” Jan came up on the terrace. “I’m all buzzed from those stimulants the doctor wanted me to try. Seeing how far I can push myself.”
“You’re walking farther? You want me and the dogs to come along, help you get home again?”
“Nope. I’m here to rescue your opening-night show, find a way to finesse the insurance.”
“You pull that off and I’ll give you a luxury weekend in an all-natural health spa.” Dee led the way indoors and plugged in the kettle. “Too bad Lacey isn’t back. She’ll know what’s up with the vault.”
“That woman who works for the security installer? She’s coming here?” Just great. On top of the pills and the near fight with Terry, now a woman who thought Jan was a drug addict. If only the walk down had not left her legs quivering like manic jellyfish, she could have headed home right this minute. Maybe after a rest.
“Yeah. I invited her to stay a while. We were roommates in university.”
“How soon will she be here?”
“Not sure. She’s picking up her stuff in Calgary. She said she’d met you?”
“Yes.” The nasty cow called me a drug addict, practically to my face. I can only imagine what she said about me. “She seems a bit … brusque.”
“She didn’t used to be that way,” said Dee. “But she just left the RCMP, and I think being a cop really hardened her — the outer shell, at least. That’s partly why I invited her to stay for a few weeks. The old Lacey is still in there, but she’ll need some space to sort of depressurize. To stop thinking like a cop first and a person second.” She waved Jan into the vast living room. “Sit here. You may be feeling great, but my aching bones need my comfy chair.”
“It all depends on these two gallery entrances,” said Jan a few minutes later, pointing to the curling corner of a blueprint. “If they’re fully covered, the insurance requirement is satisfied for anything in there. If Rob only brings in the exact paintings he’s chosen for the opening show, they can all go straight into the gallery. The rest can stay in Calgary until the vault’s fixed. You’ll pay for the extra week’s storage, but that won’t be as bad in the long run as pissing off Jake and all his oil baron buddies on Friday night.”
“That’s almost too easy,” said Dee. “I see Lacey’s car coming up. She can tell us pretty quick if the gallery can be ready.”
Jan glared out the window. Her legs were rested, hopefully enough to get her home. She could cut out now, avoid the McCrae woman’s judgments and silent sneers. But before she could make an excuse, the dogs went ballistic in their pen. Dee hurried out, calling over her shoulder, “I’ve got to shut them down before Camille phones to bitch again. Do the tea, will you?”
Too late for an unobtrusive exit. In the kitchen Jan pulled mugs from the cupboard and the tea box from its shelf, wondering how often she would visit this familiar room after tonight. She and Dee had only gotten to know each other properly after Dee’s accident. Apart from Camille Hardy, whose notion of friendship did not include any women with interests beyond hair, nails, and clothing, they were the only women on this road. They’d kept each other company during some short, cold days and many long, dark evenings of the winter. Would their friendship survive the arrival of Dee’s old friend? She brought the mugs to the living room as Dee and Lacey came in the front door, and smiled politely while Dee made the re-introductions. “I hear you’ll be staying for a while,” she said, trying to keep the anxiety and anger out of her voice.
“Yes, a while,” said Lacey, with an odd glance at Dee. “Dee says you have an idea to save the opening show. I’ll be glad to pass it on to Wayne if it’s at all feasible.”
“Hopefully you can tell us that,” said Dee. “Show her, Jan, while I get the teapot.”
Jan nodded. “You’ll have gathered by now that the insurance runs on kind of a points system. All we have to do is up the points on the main gallery and keep the pictures in there.”
“Okay …”
“Wayne didn’t explain any of this?”
Lacey shook her head. Jan paced while she tossed out the basic information about fine art security that anyone working in the field ought to have known. To be fair, the woman was new at her job, but it was hard to cut her any slack. She hadn’t cut Jan any, just made a snap judgment about the pills and reported it to her boss as fact.
Dee came back with the teapot. “Do you have a plan to fix the gallery?”
“We got a little sidetracked,” said Jan, pushing aside the plans to make room on the coffee table. “Anyway, Lacey, the main gallery upstairs doesn’t have enough layers of security as it is now. Just the locked