Chapter 5 #2
Shaking his head, he put down his brush and removed the palette from his hand.
He’d painted nonstop for two days, and exhaustion was catching up with him.
He’d never painted so fast in his life. The feeling was almost as if his fingers had a mind of their own.
But he couldn’t stop, not until he had finished with her.
He’d had to get her portrait as perfect on the canvas as she was in real life.
He headed for the master bedroom for a midday nap now that the painting was done.
The soft colors soothed him as he removed his clothing before climbing under the covers.
The room was done in shades of blue, from the deep navy blue of the curtains to the soft dusky blue of the duvet.
The carpet was the palest blue he’d ever seen, almost white.
Peter lay on the crisp white sheets. After a nap to restore his energy, should he go to The Armstrong Gallery? Or maybe he should visit Horace’s and see what the competition was like?
Peter’d done an internet search for art galleries in Aspen.
There were two. The Armstrong Gallery and Aspen Valley Gallery.
He got the addresses and discovered they were very close to one another.
From the map that Google showed him they were only two doors down from each other.
He pulled into the lot behind Horace’s gallery.
He hoped Alexis wouldn’t notice his car and wonder where he was.
But then he remembered that Alexis didn’t know what his car looked like, so he was safe.
He walked to the building and wondered if he should go around when he saw a door with the gallery’s operating hours of the gallery painted in fancy lettering.
Peter shook his head. Did the man think this made the gallery seem more upscale?
Walking through the door, he was greeted by soft music that sounded like a string quartet.
A man approached him carrying two glasses of champagne. “Welcome to Aspen Valley Gallery. I’m Horace Beecher, the owner. And you Peter Kincaid. I’d recognize you anywhere.” He handed him a glass, then he extended his right hand.
Peter knew Horace was looking at him as a potential customer and donor of a painting.
He took a glass and then shook the man’s hand.
“I’m just here on vacation, and I’m due to leave tomorrow, but I’ve been skiing or hunkering down during the blizzard, so I haven’t had a chance to embrace any of the Aspen culture. ”
Horace’s smile widened. “Well you came to the right place for culture. We have the most beautiful and thought provoking paintings in town and the greatest number, as well.”
Nodding, Peter took a sip of his champagne. “I think I’d like to look around, if you don’t mind.”
“No, no.” He held up his free hand. “Of course not. In fact, I encourage it. When you find something you like, I’ll be here.”
“Great.” Peter walked away and began glancing at the works on display.
He saw nothing fascinating. A few of the pieces he recognized, he knew the names of the artists and knew they weren’t very well known or well liked.
The paintings were too mundane. The difference between art and paint-by-number pictures was flair and design and vision.
Even the simplest model could become beautiful art if done right.
None of the paintings he’d seen so far contained even one of those items. They were, to put it mildly… boring.
Suddenly he heard the door open and Alexis’s voice.
“What are you doing here?” She stared at him with both hands on her hips.
Peter put up his hands, one palm out and the other holding the glass of champagne, as he walked toward her, knowing she would think he was betraying her with Horace. “It’s not what you think. I’m not here to help him. I just wanted to see your competition.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Why don’t I believe you? Why do you want to check out Horace’s gallery? He’s the enemy. You shouldn’t be here.”
Horace chose the moment to appear. “Alexis. I can’t have you harassing my customers. I must ask you to leave.” Though his words were mild, his hands were in fists at his side.
Peter set his glass on a shelf and raised his hands in supplication.
“Don’t worry I’m leaving.” She spun on her heels and stalked toward the door.
Alexis—” Peter started after her.
Horace grabbed his arm. “Don’t worry about her. She’ll cool off.”
Peter clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes before he pulled his arm free. “I need to explain—”
“Explain what? Were you were spying on me?” Horace crossed his arms over his chest, emphasizing his enormous belly.
How could Alexis have been involved with such a man? Peter stood casually, his hands in his pockets. “I wasn’t spying on you so much as getting the lay of the land.”
“For her? She already knows everything about this gallery. Maybe you should just keep to her gallery from now on.” He pointed toward the back door where Peter had entered. “Now, get out before I call the police.”
“What would you tell the police? That I’m a spy for Alexis Armstrong? Why would I be? I barely know the woman.” Definitely not as well as I would like. And if I can’t fix this, I won’t get the chance to know her better.
“How should I know what you want or why you’re here? Whatever the reason, your time here is over.”
Peter nodded his head once and turned toward the door. “You’ll regret making an enemy of me, Horace. I have a lot of power in the art world.”
“I doubt it, Mr. Kincaid. I greatly doubt it.”
Peter exited the building. He knew The Armstrong Gallery was only three doors down. They actually shared the parking lot along with the other four businesses in this strip. But he didn’t think she would be eager to see him. Should he wait until she’d cooled down or get it over with now?
Alexis stormed back to her gallery. How could Peter do that?
How could he be fraternizing with the enemy?
He knows how I feel about Horace. The fact that the man had let himself go didn’t make a difference.
He was a cheat and a liar before he’d stopped going to the gym and gained his belly.
I wonder whether Pamela is still with him.
I bet she’s not. She was all about appearances, and Horace obviously isn’t.
She stomped past the minimalist paintings and back to her office.
She should have just texted Peter, but she had to see for herself.
Had to know if he was at Horace’s. But to what end?
She’d only made herself mad. Tempted just to close the gallery, she shook out her arms and tried to relax as she sat behind her desk.
Her computer was still on, and when she moved the mouse, QuickBooks popped up.
“Ugg, I can’t believe I still have to finish the bills for this month.
” She was glad no one was there to hear her curse as she shook her fist at the laptop screen.
She was concentrating on the accounting when she heard the front doorbell ring. “Be right there,” she called as she hurried out of her office.
She came to a screeching halt when she saw the well-dressed woman in a sleek business suit.
The woman took business attire to a new level in Aspen.
Most businesses were more laid back with casual Friday now casual weekday.
“Pamela, To what do I owe the pleasure?” Disdain dripped from her mouth as she spoke the words.
“Oh, Alexis I’m glad you’re here. I was afraid it was Heather’s day to work.” She hurried forward, stopping in front of Alexis.
“Why would you care? Is there something else of mine you want to take?”
Pamela tilted her head, her long blonde hair cascading over her shoulder. “Oh, don’t be like that. You know that Horace didn’t love you. He only used you. This is better for everyone all around.”
Alexis crossed her arms over her chest. “You were my best friend. You were there when Jim died. You and Joey were all I had. But you know what? You’re right.
It did turn out best for me. I found out about that lying, cheating asshat before something tragic happened, like I married him. So, thank you for that.”
Pamela grinned. “You’re welcome.”
She is so dense. She actually believes I’m serious. I can’t believe we were ever best friends. Alexis thought about disgusting Horace. Unbidden, Peter’s kiss came to mind. Her fingers tingled as she remembered running them through his hair.
Almost smiling, she suddenly remembered seeing him in Horace’s gallery.
Why would he do that? What was he really doing?
Was he checking out his gallery to find out how to improve hers?
She wanted to believe that…more than anything.
But she’d been lied to and cheated on before by Ed and by Horace, that it made it difficult for her to trust a man, even one like Peter Kincaid.
“Alexis. Alexis!” Pamela snapped her fingers in front of Alexis’s face. “Are you in there?”
Shaking her head to clear it, she took a deep breath. “Yes, I’m fine. Just thinking about last weekend, that’s all.”
Pamela huffed out a breath. “Well, I was talking to you about Horace. You need to stay away from him. I saw you coming out of his gallery. You have to realize he’s mine now. You threw him away and I caught him. So just stay away.” Her eyes narrowed. “You won’t like what happens if you don’t”
Alexis’s eyes widened upon hearing the ridiculous threat.
“Are you insane?” She held up her right hand extended her index finger.
“First, he dumped me…for you if you remember. Second,” her middle finger ticked up.
“I don’t want Horace. I’m not sure I ever wanted Horace.
He caught me at a vulnerable time and played me. I won’t ever let that happen again.”
“It better not.” Pamela shook her finger. “You just stay away.”
“Oh, believe me, I will.” She thought of Peter. Was he playing her? But to what end? I have nothing he needs or could possibly want. Do I?