The Vanished, page 23
She swallowed.
Carter followed the movement and then pulled his attention from her slim neck back to her eyes.
“I don’t know what to say because everything sounds crazy.” She flitted past him and sank onto one of the chairs.
“Try me.”
She set the box on the end table and edged it toward him. “My mom and Grandma found this today.”
“Another painting?”
She nodded.
“You think this one is special?”
“You will too.” She rolled her lower lip between her teeth then tapped the box. “Please.”
He glanced from her to the box and back again. “You’re serious.”
“I wouldn’t be here the day of a break-in if I wasn’t.”
He opened the box and then let out a whistle. “I see what you mean.”
“Is it?”
“Is it what?”
“A Rembrandt?”
He tugged the box closer. “I’m surprised you’re back with another treasure.”
“Do you think it is one?”
“A real Rembrandt?”
She nodded as if afraid to voice the words.
“He’s considered the greatest artist of the Dutch golden era. He was born forty years after Bruegel died. Here’s the thing that makes him different. Rembrandt’s style is easily recognizable and often copied. Because he was a prolific artist, more than three hundred paintings, three hundred fifty etchings, and hundreds of drawings survived him. However, he was also a gifted teacher, often with multiple pupils—which means many more items could be attributed to his school than to him.” Carter tapped the edge of the box. “This might be a Rembrandt. Or it could be a copy or painted by a pupil. It’ll take time to unwind.”
“What should I do?” Janae looked lost and overwhelmed.
“Why are you worried? It’s likely a really good copy, but not anything to worry about.”
“Where do I take it to find out?”
“Normally I’d say Haney & Sons.”
“No.” There was a firm set to her chin.
“I’ll need time.”
“Can I leave it here in the interim? I can’t imagine taking this back to Grandma’s.”
“Not a problem.” Carter watched her. “What’s bothering you? Most people would be thrilled by the idea their grandpa left them a potential fortune in art.”
“What if Grandpa did something wrong to acquire them? He was a good man, but he wasn’t perfect. There are pre-Grandma parts of his life we don’t know about.” She sighed heavily and didn’t meet his gaze.
“That doesn’t mean he did anything nefarious.”
“But it doesn’t mean he didn’t.” Wells of sadness filled her eyes as she studied the painting. “He’s my hero, and lots of people around here loved him. What if that stops? He didn’t have money. Not like this.” She waved at the paintings.
“He’s not alive. It won’t impact him anymore.”
“But it would devastate my grandma.” She blew out a breath. “And what if it harms my ability to launch the firm well?” She slumped in the chair. “That sounds so selfish.”
“Yet practical.”
“Yes.”
Carter put the lid back on the box, knowing he’d take the painting out as soon as he could to protect it. “Don’t borrow trouble from tomorrow until you know what happened. That’ll be early enough to worry.”
She stood with a small smile. “Thanks for letting me take so much of your time on a hard day. We can put the painting in your safe, and I’ll get to last-minute Thanksgiving shopping for my mom.”
A few minutes later Janae was gone, and Carter grabbed a mug of hot tea, then settled at his computer and logged into his email. He needed to take a few minutes to make sure nothing else was burning around the museum while he dealt with the break-in. As soon as the latest mail downloaded, relief flooded him when he spotted an email with attachment from Suzy Werblow, the curator at the Landesmuseum. Maybe this contained the information he and Janae needed to plan a strategy related to the Modersohn-Becker piece.
There was both an ethical and a legal angle to these situations. He was glad Janae focused on the legal, but he needed to make sure he charted a path for the museum that he could support following across the museum’s collection. This situation emphasized the need to develop a strategy that he could apply consistently in the future.
He downloaded and printed the attachment. There was something about holding a paper copy of the documents that made it easier to follow. He double-checked the time stamp on the email and saw she had sent it in the last half hour. Then he called Suzy, hoping she was in. When she picked up, he got straight to the point. “Sorry this is so late, but I just got your email and attachment. Danke.”
“Of course. You might call me a night bird.” Her accent touched the English in a way that felt like heavy cream. “Do you understand what I sent?”
“I will. What is most important, from your perspective?”
“Paula Modersohn-Becker is an artist recognized around the world for both her art and her letters. She died young at thirty-one, so at the time of the war, she’d been gone for thirty years. I have not found anything in our collection that indicates this painting was taken from anyone. It was conveyed in a will to the museum.”
“When was that?”
“As the documents show, it happened in 2021. We incorporated it into an exhibit that year.”
“Anything before then?”
“The typical. It was in Vienna for a period. Then in a gallery during the war before going into a private collection around 1947. The history from that point until it was donated to us is unclear. Like many works, while it is in a private collection it can be bought and sold before reappearing. This is not unusual.”
“True, but would any of that history be accessible to heirs who aren’t in the art world?”
“That’s the question, correct?”
He knew the truth of her words. Privately held art could pass hands with the larger world unaware. That complicated determining the right course of action with that painting.
Such private sales meant Mrs. Seeger could have stayed in the dark about its location until it resurfaced in 2023.
“What will you do next?”
There was a pause before her response. “What do you mean?”
“Based on what you’ve told me, your museum can’t refute a claim that Mrs. Seeger is within three years of the painting’s whereabouts becoming publicly available.”
“That may be, but you and your museum owe us a duty of care regarding Fünf Kinder an einem Hang.”
“What did you call it?”
“Fünf Kinder an einem Hang.”
“You left off words, right?”
“Of course. It is too long to state the whole each time.”
“Could there be more than one painting in question?”
He could almost hear her shrug. “Anything is possible. It is art.”
“Can I ask you to keep digging while we work from here?”
“Yes, but I wonder if we should end the loan.”
“That is your right but might cause this situation to escalate.”
Her silence was the only answer.
“Please continue digging into the painting’s provenance. This isn’t the only piece the heirs are asserting rights to.”
“Ah, you have one at risk as well.” She snorted. “The picture is clearer now.”
“Yes, each of our museums stands to lose something. You know it’s not simply the paintings to which Mrs. Seeger is raising a claim of ownership.”
“Frau Seeger could open the door to many challenges.”
“Which is why how we handle this situation matters.”
There was silence for a moment as if she were considering her response. “I will let you know what else we find.”
“Danke.”
“I suggest you not rely on us alone, Dr. Montgomery, if as much is at risk as you suggest.”
With those words ringing in his mind, the call ended—his concern heightened rather than settled.
Chapter 29
Wednesday, November 23
ANDREW WAS ACTING OUT IN rare form by the time Carter got supper on the table. A simple meal of mac and cheese with ham—something Andrew usually loved—but he didn’t want to touch it.
“Come on, Andrew. It’s time to eat.”
“I want my mom and not more mac and cheese. You can’t cook and she can!”
Carter froze. It had been weeks since Andrew had made a statement like that. In fact, Carter had begun to believe Andrew had accepted that his mom wouldn’t return. Maybe living closer to a grave he could take the boy to would help. But he’d had to move for work, and that had disrupted Andrew’s world yet again. Becoming the surrogate parent for a scared and grieving eight-year-old who barely knew him hadn’t been easy. The first months had stretched Carter to the breaking point as he tried to figure out what Andrew needed. He’d taken the job in part to relocate closer to his parents and Andrew’s grandparents, but it didn’t mean the boy had adapted.
“I’m sorry, Drew. I want her too, but we can’t always have the things we want most.”
“You can’t call me Drew.” His nephew looked away from him, but not before Carter caught his chin quivering. “Only Mommy and Lindsay call me that.”
“Come here.”
Andrew shook his head, blond hair falling into his eyes, his narrow frame stiffening.
“Buddy, it’s okay to miss your mom.” In fact, it was healthy and good. “I know she didn’t want to leave you, but I promise I’ll always be here.”
“That’s what she said.” The whispered words landed heavily on Carter.
“Your mom loved you deeply. You were the most important thing to her.” Charlotte had been a passionate, all-in person who loved with abandon and fiercely protected those in her circle.
Eight years of his sister’s life were a mystery. He had been neck-deep in his PhD at the time, but he’d return the doctorate if it meant he had his sister. That quick visit weeks before her death hadn’t been enough.
“I thought I saw her today.”
Carter froze at Andrew’s words. “Who?”
“Mom.” The boy rubbed a hand over his eyes. “I couldn’t have, right?”
“No. There’s no way you did.” Was there? His mind flashed back to the man who had flicked the card with only ten digits on it to the floor of his office. The man who had alluded to Charlotte having something that had belonged to him. Could he have been behind the break-in?
No, that didn’t make sense.
Or did it?
He pulled his thoughts back to Andrew. “I’m sorry, bud, I wish it was her.”
Not possible, though. No, he’d learned the hard way to look at life the way it was, not the way he wanted it to be. He’d allowed himself to believe anything was possible during his post-doc, and he wouldn’t make that mistake again.
Carter’s mom told Andrew stories about Charlotte, kept her alive to him, but it wasn’t the same as having his mom with him.
Maybe it was time to ask a few questions of his own, even if the answers hurt.
Thanksgiving
Her vibrating phone woke Janae up Thanksgiving morning, and she had to take a minute to remember where she was. Then the aroma of turkey baking flavored the air, and she realized she was back in her room at her parents’ house rather than in the cave of the carriage house. She’d moved so many boxes, she could start sleeping there in the next day or two, but right now she groped along the top of her side table for her phone. “Hello?” She cleared her throat and tried again after swiping to take the call. “Hello?”
“Janae?” Was that Carter? Why was he calling her?
She scrambled to a seated position and pushed hair from her face. “Carter? Happy Thanksgiving.”
“You too. Just wanted to let you know Ariel will be okay. She’ll be out with a concussion for the next week, but the doctors expect her to make a full recovery.”
“That’s great news.” She wiped at her eyes as she tried to wake up. “What else do you need?”
“Uncle Carter …” She grinned at the exasperated voice in the background. “Don’t we have a turkey? It’s not Thanksgiving without turkey.”
“Andrew, we’ll talk when I’m off the phone.” He sighed. “Sorry about that.”
“No problem. Do y’all have plans for today?”
“I got distracted with putting everything at the museum back in order and didn’t get a turkey.”
“It’s understandable. Not a great week.”
“Yeah, but Andrew doesn’t understand all that. Uncle Carter for the win.”
“Why don’t y’all come here? Mom always makes more than enough food, and I bet your nephew would enjoy meeting the horses.” What was she doing? Inviting him over for Thanksgiving was playing with fire. Her parents and grandmother would definitely notice. And that would mean questions. Lots of questions. Questions she didn’t want to answer.
He hesitated. “Don’t you need to ask?”
She could take the easy way out, but that wasn’t her style. “Nope. I promise there will be plenty of food, including turkey. My grandma will be here and probably a few more people that Mom invited. Football will be on in the background, and we’ll play some games. If Andrew’s comfortable with it, I could talk Dad into putting him on a horse.”
“I don’t know if I’m comfortable with it, but all right. What can we bring?”
“If you pass an open store, a small bouquet for Mom would be the thing. I’ll text you the address.” She clicked a few buttons. “Did it come through?”
“Got it. We’ll be there in an hour.” He paused. “Thank you.”
Her heart melted a bit at the softness in his words.
As soon as she was off the call, Janae hurried through getting ready, pretending to ignore the extra moments she spent on her makeup. Once she was in the green sweater dress with her hair in a messy updo, she hurried down to alert her mom.
“Of course it’s fine that you invited a couple people.” Mom scanned her, then a small smile toyed at her mouth. “Is this Carter someone special? You’ve mentioned him a lot.”
“No, Mom. We’re working together, that’s all.” She frowned, hoping her mom couldn’t see the way her thoughts wandered to what could be. “I’m not sure why he called this morning, but inviting them to join us seemed the right thing to do.”
“Absolutely. Just remember the rule. No work. We’re going to enjoy today.”
“I’ll remember that.” She settled in to help her mom with the meal prep, making a salad while Mom whipped up the mashed potatoes and slid them into the oven to stay warm. Janae slipped the apron over her head when the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it.”
Her mom nodded, her attention not straying from the pie crust lattice magic she was creating on top of an apple pie.
Janae wiped her sweaty palms along the sides of her dress before opening the door with a small wave. She touched the back of her hair, checking it hadn’t fallen out, as she stepped back. “Come on in.” She nodded to the blond boy who stood next to Carter. “You might not remember meeting me, Andrew. I’m Janae.”
“Yes, we met.” Carter elbowed him, and the boy pasted on a smile that didn’t quite meet his dark blue eyes. “Thanks for inviting us over.” He leaned closer. “Can you believe he forgot to get a turkey?” He rolled his eyes, then marched in. “Do you really have horses?”
“We do. Maybe after we eat, we can walk to the stables.” She glanced at his khakis. “We’ll make sure you don’t get cold.”
“I won’t.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and cocked his chin a notch with the assurance a young boy brings to life.
“Good. No getting sick after spending a day with us.”
Carter stood behind Andrew, a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “We’ll be glad to do whatever works best.”
Mom strode down the hall, her black slacks carrying a telltale dusting of white where the apron had failed to protect her. After introductions were made and Carter gave her a bouquet filled with yellow and orange roses, Mom leaned close to Janae and used a stage whisper. “I like this one.”
“Mom.” Janae mimicked Andrew with the dramatic eye roll. Then she grinned at the boy. “You see why I’m moving out.”
“It’s about time.” Grandma walked in with a grin and extended a hand. “Welcome to the family Thanksgiving, young men. Andrew, why don’t you come with me. I need help sorting this puzzle I thought was a good idea to start.”
Mom followed them, leaving Carter next to Janae in the entryway. “Welcome to the family.”
“You weren’t kidding.” Carter shoved his hands in his pockets as his gaze caressed her, causing heat to shoot up her neck. “I’m kind of glad my parents are on the last day of a cruise after all.”
“That sounds fun.”
He took a step closer to her. “I’m grateful to be right here. Thanks again for the invitation.”
“You’re welcome.” She stepped back as her dad stomped in the front door.
“I see we’ve got company.” He stuck out his hand to Carter. “I’m Gerald Simmons. Glad you could join us.”
“Carter Montgomery, and my nephew Andrew is with …”
“Grandma. Andrew’s helping with the puzzle, though he might like to visit your horses later.”
“Always ready to show off the mares.” Her dad grinned as he continued through to the kitchen where he gave Mom a big kiss on the cheek. “Smells good.”
“Anything smells better than the horses.”
“Not to me.”
The meal was a blur of conversation and amazing food. Andrew tried everything and kept reaching for more. Janae leaned toward Carter. “Does he have a hollow leg?”
“I didn’t think so.”
“The cooking’s better here.” Andrew grinned from his place across the table, a smear of raspberry jam on his cheek. “Besides, I need to fuel up if I’m going to ride the horses.”
After the meal, Dad led the way, Andrew tripping along at his heels asking excited questions.
