All his gallery paintings had sold. He’d have enough in savings to take a year off. Maybe that’d give him time to figure out what he wanted to do. “Thanks, Talia.”
Talia laughed. “Say that again. I’m not sure I heard right.”
“You heard me.” Roman ended the call and handed the phone back to Grace. “We had a good night.”
“Talia told me.” She had turned her chair and sat facing him. The phone rang again. Roman started to leave as she answered it, but she held up one finger. “That is odd. Here, you can ask him.” She held out the phone.
“What?”
“Talia says a police officer came to the show.”
Roman took the phone. “What did he want?”
“I’m not sure,” Talia answered. “He asked a lot of questions.”
“About what?”
“You. He wasn’t asking anything that others haven’t asked before, but it felt more like an interrogation.”
He leaned against the doorjamb, pretending the conversation wasn’t anything important. “Probably habit. Did he buy anything?”
“He was interested in your painting of the blackbirds. He asked if I knew anything about the bird. I told him I wasn’t an ornithologist.”
Roman’s pulse kept climbing. He could feel the sweat breaking out. “When was this?”
“When you disappeared into the men’s room. I was going to introduce you, but he got a phone call. I didn’t see him after that. Is there something I should know?”
“About what?”
“You tell me.”
Roman forced a laugh. “I don’t have any outstanding warrants that I know about. Maybe he likes blackbirds. Did he make an offer for the painting?”
“Are you kidding? On a cop’s pay?” She’d sold it to a movie producer known for sci-fi films. The police officer was forgotten as she talked about several other important people she’d met.
Roman told her he had work to do and handed the phone back to Grace. “I’ll be in my studio.”
Still sweating from the conversation, he wished he’d never allowed Talia to take that painting out of the house. He’d been in a dark mood when he painted the flock of blackbirds attacking a grotesque man crouched and twisted in self-defense. He hadn’t intended to show the piece to anyone, let alone put it in the gallery for sale. Talia had seen it on his easel. She called it the most evocative work he’d done. Her assessment lifted the darkness and fanned his pride. He’d been poking the bear when he let her show it.
A prickle of fear went up his spine. He’d wanted to be caught during those dark days. He’d wanted the Bird caged. Now, he had too much to lose.
Maybe it was time to get out of town for a few days. After the San Diego mural and then finishing all the paintings needed for the show, he felt burned out. If a police officer was nosing around about the Bird, this would be a good time for a trip.
Any chance Grace would come along with him? Doubtful. Not unless he came up with a good reason to have her along. But the idea of leaving her behind didn’t hold any appeal. Get to know her, Jasper said. He might find it easier if they were away from the office. Every time they started to have any kind of personal conversation, she used work as an excuse to retreat.
He mulled over ideas until she came upstairs with messages. She glanced at his drafting table. “I don’t think I’ve seen a blank piece of paper there since I started working for you.”
“I’m short on inspiration right now.”
“There’s always the view out your window.”
“Landscapes aren’t my thing.” But she’d given him the opening he needed. “Didn’t you have an inquiry about me doing a mural for some town in the Gold Country?”
“I’ll get you the file.” She came back a few minutes later and handed it to him. “Golden. There’s not much information on the place.”
He flipped the papers and handed it back. “I want to see the town.”
“The gentleman who called will be very happy to hear that. I can contact him and let him know you want to make the trip. When did you have in mind?”
“We can leave tomorrow morning.”
She froze. “We?”
“Yes, we. I figure it will only take a couple of days.”
“A couple of days?”
Clearly, she wasn’t as eager to be alone with him as he was with her. He figured Prince Charming was the reason. “You don’t have to repeat everything I say. And don’t call the guy and tell them we’re coming. The last thing I want is propaganda. This trip is about seeing whether I want to have anything to do with—” he glanced at the file again—“Golden.”