“Yes.” She paused, assessing him. “I was the only family left, and she was only seven. I had to fly back to Memphis and sort things out. Hardly an easy thing to do, considering the circumstances. And then I brought her back here to Fresno to live with me.”
“Circumstances?”
She raised that brow again. “Are you on a fishing expedition, Mr. Velasco? You’ll have to ask Grace for details. She may not remember everything, in which case, you’ll have to do some research. It’s all in the public record.”
The doorbell rang. Elizabeth stood, ending the conversation. Excusing herself, she went inside, leaving the glass door open. Roman could hear Grace, Elizabeth, and another woman talking indistinctly. An older woman in a black-and-white polka-dot dress followed Elizabeth outside. Her gray hair was cut short, her blue eyes warm and openly curious. She didn’t wait for formal introductions, but came toward him with a hand outstretched. “I’m Miranda Spenser, and you are the famous Roman Velasco! It’s such a pleasure to meet you.” She glanced at Elizabeth’s rigid face, and wasn’t cowed into silence. “We’ve been curious since Grace mentioned her new job. I don’t have to ask how she’s doing. She always gives her best to anything she does.”
Grace came outside with a tray and set it on the table. She served coffee to Miranda first and poured a cup of tea and added a slice of lemon for her aunt. She handed him a frosty glass of lemonade before cutting slices of Bundt cake. He noticed Grace took nothing for herself. Miranda settled in another wicker chair, less royal than Elizabeth’s. “Tell us about yourself, Roman. I’ve never met an artist, and the Internet didn’t tell us much about you, just about your work, which is very interesting, by the way. You don’t seem to settle on any one particular style.”
Roman had come to learn about Grace, not to talk about himself.
Grace gave him a sympathetic look. “Have some cake, Miranda.” Grace handed her a thick slice.
Anything to stop the questions. “There’s not much else to say.”
“Are you a believer?” Miranda held his gaze.
He didn’t understand. “A believer of what?”
“Take that as a no.” Elizabeth’s faint smirk told him she was enjoying his discomfort.
Miranda didn’t seem put off, but spared him an interrogation as she attempted to catch up on Grace’s life. Was she still taking night classes? How was Samuel? How was she managing? Grace answered in generalities and turned the focus back on him. She talked about his work and then the gallery show in Laguna Beach. “All of Roman’s paintings sold before the end of the evening.” She told them about Golden and the request for a mural representing the history of the area, but didn’t admit they hadn’t even bothered driving through the place. She was rambling, nervous, and the women knew it.
“How many days have you been on the road?”
“We left Tuesday morning.”
When they exchanged a look, Roman decided to rescue her from further questions. “I took her to the Masterson Ranch, where I was incarcerated for three years. The proprietors are close friends of mine.” That made the two women forget all about Grace and any possible sins she might have been tempted to commit along the road.
“Incarcerated?” Miranda repeated, eyes wide.
Google wouldn’t have that information. “For painting graffiti.”
Elizabeth studied him over her cup of tea. “From illegitimate art to legitimate.”
“Some people believe art should be free.”
She put her teacup on her saucer. “And yet you’ve allowed yourself to become a capitalist.”
Pale and tense, Grace stood and collected dessert plates. He wanted to take them from her and dump everything in Elizabeth Walker’s lap. Elizabeth smiled slightly. “Sit, Grace.” She spoke gently this time. She stood and took the tray. “Everything is fine.” When Grace sat, Roman saw bewilderment, then tears glisten, before she regained control.
Grace watched Roman grow edgier as Miranda talked about church and faith and how much it had always meant to Grace when she was growing up. “She memorized more Scriptures than any student in my class.”
“I think he can handle Miranda,” Aunt Elizabeth said softly. “Come with me. I want to show you some of the changes I’ve made in the garden since you were last here.”
Grace steeled herself for the inevitable questions about Samuel and what she was going to do about the future. They walked together in tense silence.