Lover's Lane Read Free Page A

unison on the bare wood floor. The painting on the wall was of good size with a weathered frame that added to the tone of the piece.
    The painting showed the huge dark boulders that ringed the cove and hugged the bluffs as violent storm waves crashed over them. The sky was gun-metal gray, dark and forbidding as the ocean. There were no buildings, no town above the cove, just wild grasses and two ragged junipers battered by the wind.
    The artist had depicted a ghostly image of a young woman dressed in the style of the early 1800s standing at the edge of the bluff overlooking the water. Entirely painted in a sheer white, as if transposed over the painting, the woman stood with the fingers of one hand clenching the fabric of her long, flowing skirt. In the other hand she held a hat as if she had forgotten it was there. Long ribbons streamed over the brim, rippling just above the ground. Her hair was unbound, in wild disarray.
    She was tall and lithe but her features were as subtly depicted as the rest of her, almost as if the artist wanted the viewer to wonder if there was actually a woman in the painting at all.
    She could have been beautiful, or perhaps not. The artist left it up to the viewer to decide.
    “This oil is of Twilight Cove from a different angle, one of the most dramatic pieces Ms. Nolan has done to date. Any work that showcases the cove tends to sell quickly. Visitors are so impressed by the beauty of this place that they want to take home a memory that will last a lifetime.” Wilson rolled up onto his toes, settled back on his heels and smiled. “Not to mention the good investment that original oils become.”
    The Nolan piece was appealing in a haunting, ethereal way. Staring into the waves on the canvas was almost as hypnotic as watching the ocean. Not only that, but Jake found himself haunted by questions. Why was the young woman alone? Why had she gone to the edge of the bluff during a storm?
    Except for a change of weather and time, it was a perfect rendition of the view he’d seen from the scenic viewpoint.
    A label on the wall beside the painting listed the title as “Waiting.” The price was more than adequate for a local unknown. The name Carly Nolan was printed neatly beneath the title.
    “This one’s a little dramatic for my taste,” Jake said. “Do you have anything else she’s done?”
    Wilson’s smile luffed at the corner like a sail losing wind. “Not at the moment. Are you staying in town or just passing through?”
    “I was planning on staying until Monday, if I can find a place.”
    Geoff leaned forward conspiratorially. “Luckily it’s the off-season. I can call a fine B and B right here in town.”
    “That’d be great.”
    Jake followed him to the counter to pick up a business card. Wilson picked up the phone and punched in a number. He held his hand over the mouthpiece and whispered, “This is a wonderful place. So romantic. ”
    Within two minutes Jake had a room reserved at the Rose Cottage a few blocks away. Geoff Wilson made a sticky note to himself with Jake’s name on it with the reference— Nolan painting—and pressed it against the back of the counter.
    Jake noticed a couple of tall baskets sitting near the cash register. One was stuffed with Chamber of Commerce maps. The other was filled with five-by-seven-inch cards printed with bios of the gallery’s featured artists. Flipping through, he realized that all but Carly Nolan’s biocard showed photographs of the artists.
    He picked one up and read the scant information.
    Carly Nolan is a local artist new upon the scene. Her haunting paintings of Twilight Cove and the surrounding landscape peopled with ghostly figures from California’s colorful past are quickly becoming favorites of collectors up and down the coast. Primarily working in oils, she has captured life in the very early days of the area using her own unique vision of color, style, and imagination.
    “Please, take one,” Geoff urged. “Actually,