Chapter 21
“Ican’t believe my uncle warned me off William,” I say to Tessa and Penelope on Thursday evening after we finish discussing some possible plot points for Penelope’s next novel. “I feel betrayed.”
“It makes sense, though. Take it from me, it’s definitely awkward if he’s not interested,” Penelope says. “I mean, do you see it lasting if you started dating?”
Yes.We work great as a team. “I could see it lasting.”
“I’m impressed you haven’t called him yet this week.” Tessa opens up her laptop.
“Me too,” I say wryly. “It was very hard not to call him. But I know he’s busy with work. And I’m trying to pull back and not follow my feelings.” And it was good for painting. I was pouring all my unrequited desire into my art.
My phone beeps.
I look up Vinnie’s gallery to see if he still lists the Agatha Boonland for sale or if Edmund bought that. “Vinnie’s art gallery still lists the Kimimoto as available for purchase!”
“That’s weird,” Tessa says.
“Can you call him and see what he says?” I ask.
“Sure,” she says.
Tessa calls, putting the call on speakerphone. His assistant picks up. The assistant confirms that the Kimimoto is available for purchase and asks to take her name as interested.
“Razzy Skunchmunden.”
I shake my head. “That sounds so fake.”
Tessa scrunches up her nose. “I’m losing my touch.”
Me too.I’ve failed my uncle and Takashi. I have no more ideas on how to investigate Vinnie. Or how to prove it’s Edmund.
Penelope finishes her tea and leaves to go back downstairs. Tessa and I work in a companionable silence as I sketch a portrait of William. I have it bad. Is it because I’ve been warned off? Forbidden fruit and all that. I know it’s not. It’s because he’s a good guy. I want to call him to share what I’ve been doing and to bother him. I have to pull back and not give in to my feelings. It is so hard not calling him.
His half smile makes my heart flutter every single time. I sigh.
Not being able to waitress is lovely, though. Having all this time to paint is allowing me to go deeper and fully concentrate on what I am trying to achieve. Anya’s friend and Max’s friend have each come by for a gallery visit and both bought paintings, so I’m not even out of income.
My phone rings. It’s William. My heart does a little pitter-patter. Calm down.
“How’s your foot?” he asks.
“My foot is doing much better, thank you,” I say formally. “Staying off it is working. How are your feet?”
He chuckles. “My feet are doing very well. They’re comfortably ensconced in slippers. And Pochi is resting his head on them.”
“Aw. My foot is not doing as well as your feet. But I am able to put some weight on it.” I smile. “And my arm muscles are getting a workout from the crutches. Have your arm muscles recovered from carrying me?”
“Yes.” He makes a scoffing noise as if it was nothing. “Have you been okay staying at home?”
“Yes, Tessa, Penelope, and Zelda are keeping me well stocked. We had a girls’ dinner the other night and watched Hitchcock’s Rear Window. And I’ve been painting so much. It’s great not to have to waitress or bartend.”
“Oh, so you’re not bored at all.” He sounds disappointed. Has William missed me? “I’ve been really busy with work, so I didn’t have a chance to call.”
“I don’t get bored. I can always paint or read or watch movies.”
“I thought you might be bored.”
“Nope,” I say, very cheerfully.
There’s silence on the other end. I decide to throw him a life preserver.
“But I have missed detecting with you,” I say.
“Oh? Well, um, I …” He clears his throat. “You were right about Edmund’s olive oil farms not doing well. I did some research, and his farm is in the area experiencing a drought. He does have a financial motive.”
“I knew Edmund was lying. We could check out his apartment. I haven’t thought of any other ways to prove it’s him,” I say. “And Officer Johnson called earlier and said they tried to run a sting operation, but the seller didn’t show up when they were supposed to meet to exchange the painting for money.”
“At least the police are trying to do something.”
“I know. But he said that was about all they could do.”
“How would we check out Edmund’s apartment?” William asks. “I doubt it’s going to be easy to break into it.”
“I have his key.”
“He gave you his key?”
“No, Annabelle has a copy, which she keeps in a jar in her bedroom, and I made a copy of it when I was dog-sitting,” I say. “Unfortunately, I also realized that Edmund probably could have done the same with my key, so we changed the locks here.”
“If he’s smart, he’ll lie low.”
“Anyway, I don’t want to tip him off that I suspect him, so I think it’s best not to check out his apartment, in case he finds out,” I say. The shock of the nearly violent encounter in Brooklyn makes me wary.
“That makes sense.”
“Very rational of me, if I do say so myself.”
“Anyway …” William clears his throat. “I was calling to see if you wanted to go on a picnic dinner on Saturday. The cherry blossoms are out in Central Park, and we could go to Cherry Hill. I thought you might be bored.”
“I would love to.”
“Great, I’ll pick you up at four.” William hangs up.
A cherry blossom picnic definitely sounds romantic. I google whether there’s anything in Japanese culture about romance and cherry blossoms, like the first snow in Korean dramas. According to Korean dramas, you’re fated to be with whomever you experience the first snow with. If that’s true, I’m fated to be alone with a handful of strangers on a New York sidewalk. Unfortunately, I can’t find anything specifically romantic about sakura. But it sounds romantic to me, so I’m going with that mindset.