Tess smiled. “I must’ve missed that. I haven’t been here too often in the past few years. I was in the catering business—”
Wyatt raised his eyebrows. “Oh? I didn’t know you did that. How did I not know what you did for a living? That’s crazy. Were you a chef?”
That’s right. It was crazy.
“Yep,” she said. “I decided to pivot and do something else. I just figured there was more to life than cooking for corporate events and fundraisers. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but I, personally, wanted something on my own.”
“If you’re making the breakfasts for this bed-and-breakfast inn, your guests will be in for a treat,” Wyatt said, taking a sip of his tea. “I can attest to that.”
Tess leaned forward. “I thought I might play that up a bit, the fact I was—am—a chef. I could have cooking-themed weekends where I teach classes on how to make the perfect . . . whatever it is.”
“That’s a great idea,” Wyatt said. “Have you ever thought of opening a restaurant?”
“I have, actually. That’s the beauty of starting over, isn’t it? It seems like the world is filled with possibilities.”
“I’ve seen more than one person’s dream come true in Wharton,” Wyatt said.
Tess’s phone buzzed. Nick.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hey. I’m on my way over,” he said. “I’ll be there in about ten minutes.”
“Sounds good,” Tess said. And there it was. Pulled back into reality once again by the chief of police. Tess was realizing he had a way of doing that.
CHAPTER THIRTY
In the drawing room, Tess had set up the paintings, in order, for Nick to see. When the chief arrived, Wyatt ushered him into the room, Storm at their heels. The two men had been chattering in the hallway, but once they stepped into the room, the conversation stopped. Nick’s eyes grew wide, and his mouth hung open slightly.
“Wow,” he said, stepping closer to the paintings to get a better look. “I’ll be damned.”
“I know,” Tess said. “That’s just how I felt when I saw them.”
“Getting a look at these before the whole world does is, well, really a privilege,” Nick said. “But why show them to me?”
“See?” Tess said, pointing from one to the other. “They’re sort of like a storyboard, in a way.”
Nick stepped closer still, looking at each one in turn. First the paintings of Wharton’s darkened streets. Then the scene of the woman Tess now knew was Daisy, and her monstrous husband, Frank. Next, the scene following Daisy down a rainy street. The portrait, which came next, now looked ghastly to Tess. And finally, the macabre scene on the cliff.
After studying the paintings for a while, Nick looked up at Tess and Wyatt. “I’m not sure what you’re wanting me to see here,” he said, his words coming out slowly. “I mean, I get that these are rather . . . disturbing paintings of Wharton. Not exactly typical of Sebastian Bell, but not that different, either. But beyond that . . .”
Tess and Wyatt exchanged a glance. Wyatt took a deep breath. “We had Pop here yesterday,” he said.
Nick smiled. “Oh? How’s he doing?”
Wyatt returned that smile. “Great. We took him for lunch and then back here for a bit. Tess and I were curious about the woman in the portrait. And in the rather voyeuristic paintings from the vantage point of looking into a house from a darkened street.”
Nick turned his gaze back to the paintings. “Oh, yes. I see now. They do all seem to be the same woman. Family scenes.” He wrinkled his nose. “Not very happy ones.”
“Exactly,” Wyatt said. “Tess and I were really curious, especially because of the . . . well, the strange things going on here. The scratching, for one. What we all experienced yesterday, for another. We were both just sort of compelled to find out who this woman was.”
Nick nodded. “Yeah, I can see that. How does Joe fit in?”
“We thought, since Sebastian Bell was a contemporary of Pop’s, this woman would be from that same era. Wharton’s a small town, and we thought he might know who she was.”
“Aren’t you two the amateur sleuths?” Nick said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “And?”
“And, he did know her. The woman’s name is Daisy Erickson. That’s her husband, Frank.” He pointed to the angry man. “Those are her kids.”