The Lakeside Inn Page 9

  “That must have been hard on your grandma.”

  “It was. I promised I’d try to find out what happened to him. I’ve got a feeling that if I find the piece of furniture the key opens, I’ll discover what happened to my great-grandfather.” She reached into her bag and pulled out the enamel box. “This is what my great-grandmother gave Grandma. And this”—she opened an envelope and handed Wyatt a copy of a photograph—“is the only photo I have of my great-grandmother.”

  Wyatt studied the enamel box before looking at the photo. A few seconds later, his gaze shot to Penny’s. “Are you sure this is your great-grandmother?”

  “Positive. On the original photo, her name and the date they took the photo is on the back. Why?”

  Wyatt handed her the photo and the box. “Come with me.”

  Penny grabbed her bag and hurried out of the truck. “Where are we going?”

  “To my studio. Before I came here, I visited the museum in Polson. The lady who was on duty showed me some photos of people who lived and worked around the lake in the early 1900s.”

  “And you found another photo of my great-grandmother?”

  “I think so.” He opened the front door and walked toward his studio. “My friend Ethan challenged me to paint a portrait. I was in the museum looking for inspiration. When I saw the photo, I knew I had to paint them.”

  Penny’s heart pounded. “Them? Is there a man in the photo, too?”

  “No.” Wyatt walked across to his desk. “Take a look at this and tell me what you think.”

  Her breath caught as she studied the people in the photo. The woman standing beside the little girl was definitely her great-grandmother. With her fair hair piled on top of her head and a dimple in her left cheek, there was no mistaking the resemblance to the woman in her own photo.

  “The little girl could be my grandma.”

  Wyatt pulled out a stool. “Have a seat. You look as though you’re about to faint.”

  Gratefully, she sat down. “We don’t have many photos of Grandma, especially when she was this young.”

  “I only know the first names of the people in the photo. The woman is Margaret and the little girl is Elizabeth.”

  Penny’s eyes widened. “Everyone called Grandma, Betty, but her full name was Elizabeth. Her mom’s name was Margaret, but she was called Maggie.” She looked down at the photo. Sadness overtook her at the thought of what both women had been through.

  Taking a deep breath, she took the photo her mom had given her out of her bag. Maggie looked a lot younger and happier in her photo. It must have been taken before her daughter was born, possibly before she was married. “Mom will want to see the photo. Can you scan it and email me the file?”

  “I can do better than that,” Wyatt said softly. “Take it with you. I bought some extra copies in case I needed them.”

  “Thank you.” Penny wiped the tears off her face. “You must think I’m being too emotional.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with crying.”

  “I don’t usually…” She thought about her words, about how difficult it was for her to talk about how she was feeling. “I hold too much stuff inside. Grandma said I need to tell people how I’m feeling. Otherwise, I’ll feel a lot worse.”

  “What if there’s no one you can talk to?”

  “I find another way of dealing with my emotions.”

  Wyatt studied her face. “What do you do?”

  “I used to mountain bike, except I fell off and broke my elbow.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Exactly.” Penny let out a shaky laugh. “It was my fault. I was racing someone who’d been biking for years. It would have been a lot easier to talk to a friend about how I was feeling.”

  “Hindsight is a wonderful thing.”

  Penny nodded. “What about you? Do you find it difficult to talk about how you’re feeling?”

  Wyatt looked at an easel that was facing the wall. “You could say that.” He took Penny’s hand and led her across the room. “This is what I do instead of riding a mountain bike.”

  When she saw the portrait, she forgot about how good it felt to hold Wyatt’s hand, how long it had been since she’d let anyone close. Instead, she stood still and absorbed the beauty of the painting in front of her.

  “Oh, my goodness. It’s stunning.” Her great-grandmother stood tall and proud in front of a lake, holding her daughter in her arms. Penny could feel the love, the joy, and the sheer determination of Margaret Mae Gregory as she gave the best of who she was to her child. It was so beautiful that more tears filled Penny’s eyes.

  Wyatt smiled. “Painting doesn’t have the same ouch factor as falling off a bicycle.”

  “Does it help relieve the pressure?”

  His smile faded. “Sometimes.”

  Chapter 9

  It was just as well Wyatt started work early. The following morning, just as he was adding milk to his Fruit Loops, a text message came through on his cell phone.

  It was from Penny, asking if she could bring her sisters to see the portrait of their great-grandmother. Within minutes of telling her they could come whenever they liked, there was a knock on the back door.

  Barbara, Diana, and Penny stood on his veranda.

  “We know it’s early,” Penny began.

  “And we don’t want to be a nuisance,” Diana added.

  “But we’re here because Penny said the painting is amazing.” Barbara held out a basket. “We brought muffins. They’re huckleberry and custard.”

  Penny cleared her throat. “We made them this morning. Especially for you.”

  He scrunched his forehead into a fake frown. “Do you seriously think my favorite muffins will make up for coming here at”—he looked at the clock on the wall for extra emphasis—“six thirty-seven in the morning?”

  After looking at each other, Penny and her sisters nodded.

  Wyatt smiled and held open the door. “You’re right. Come in. Didn’t you bring Charlie?”

  “He’s at home, feeling sorry for himself,” Diana said. “I was worried about bringing him here. You know what he’s like before he’s had his morning walk.”

  Charlie was a walking disaster before he’d burned off all his exuberant energy. Nothing in his path was safe. Especially three large canvases sitting on wooden easels.

  Barbara looked around the kitchen. “I’m impressed. Everything is so tidy.”

  “Did you expect to see a week’s worth of dishes sitting on the counter?” he asked.

  “We know you’ve been extra busy painting. I thought you might be buried under takeout containers and frozen meal wrappers.”

  He closed the door after Penny. “I prefer fresh food.”

  “And freshly baked muffins,” Diana said as she turned on the coffeepot.

  “Fruit Loops?” Barbara pointed to his breakfast. “They’re definitely not healthy. Do you know how much sugar is in them?”

  Wyatt grabbed the cereal box and shoved it in the cupboard. “How about we go to the studio?”

  Penny nudged Barbara away from the kitchen. “Stop giving Wyatt a hard time. He won’t invite us back again.”

  Wyatt’s eyebrows rose. “Actually, I didn’t invite—”

  Diana waved away his concerns. “Ignore my sisters. They can be annoying.”

  For the first time in his life, he was grateful he only had two brothers. Before the sisters could find something else to comment on, he led them into the hallway. “My studio is through here. Don’t touch anything.”

  It wouldn’t surprise him if the warning fell on deaf ears.

  Diana saw the painting first. “Oh, wow. It’s even more gorgeous than I expected.”

  Barbara took a moment to absorb what she was seeing before leaning closer to study the canvas. “There’s even a dragonfly hovering above the lake.”

  Diana sent a startled glance at Penny, before returning her gaze to the portrait. “Is it my imagination or does Penny look a lot like our great-grandmothe
r?”

  Three pairs of eyes swiveled toward Penny.

  Wyatt took a closer look at the portrait. He froze, then looked again at the shape of Penny’s jaw, the way her eyes tilted up at the corners, and the smile that was never far from her face. Diana was right. How did he miss the resemblance?

  “We don’t look anything alike,” Penny said.

  “You do,” he said softly.

  She moved closer to the portrait and tilted her head, mirroring her great-grandmother’s stance in the photo he’d found.

  “If you pulled back your hair, you’d see the shape of your face is almost identical. You have the same jaw, the same brow, and the same eyes. Even your smiles are similar.”

  Penny lifted her hands and held her hair in a ponytail. The resemblance was uncanny.

  “You do look like our great-grandmother,” Barbara said in disbelief. “If your hair was a lighter color, you’d almost be identical.”

  Diana held the photo of their great-grandmother beside the canvas. “The painting is exactly like the photo. Why didn’t we notice the similarities last night?”

  “Because the painting is in color and it’s bigger,” Barbara murmured. “I wonder if Grandma ever noticed the family resemblance.”

  Penny frowned. “I still don’t think we look alike.”

  Pulling out her cell phone, Diana looked at Wyatt. “Would it be okay if I took a photo of the painting? When Penny gets home, she can look in the mirror and see what we’re talking about.”

  “Okay, but it’s not finished.”

  “That’s all right. If Penny can’t see what we’re talking about, she needs to get her eyes checked.”

  Penny frowned. “There was nothing wrong with my eyesight when I found the necklace you’d lost.”

  “That’s different. I’m always losing things.”

  While Diana and Penny bickered, Barbara moved around the studio, looking at each of his semi-finished canvases.

  She stopped in front of a painting hanging on the wall.

  He’d created that a few months after he’d returned from his honeymoon. It was an image of the Grand Canyon, glowing under the burnished bronze of the setting sun.

  “Why don’t you paint under your own name?” she asked.

  Wyatt ran his hand around the back of his neck. He was hoping no one would notice his signature at the bottom of his paintings. “I don’t like the publicity that comes with being a well-known artist.”

  Barbara’s eyes widened. “How well-known?”

  “I told you Wyatt is exhibiting his paintings in Germany,” Penny said to her sister. “You have to be pretty good for that.”

  “There’s a big difference between good and really good.”

  Penny glanced at Wyatt. She must have realized how uncomfortable he was because she sent him an encouraging smile. “It’s not our business. We’d better get home before Charlie tears up the house.” Before her sister could say anything, Penny pushed Barbara toward the door. “Thanks for letting us see the portrait.”

  Diana followed Penny into the hallway. “Thanks, Wyatt. I hope you enjoy the muffins.”

  “I know I will. Thanks for baking them.”

  Before they made it to the front door, Barbara looked back over her shoulder. “Thanks for letting us see the painting. And just for the record, I think you’re a really good artist.”

  “Barbara!” Diana hissed. “Leave the poor man alone. He came to Sapphire Bay to get away from everything, not to add another person to his fan club.”

  Penny sighed and silently mouthed, “Sorry,” to Wyatt.

  “It’s okay,” he said. Because he knew it would be. Penny and her sisters wouldn’t tell anyone he was here, Ethan and Natalie were sworn to secrecy, and Pastor John had his confidentiality clause with God to uphold.

  As long as Penny’s mom didn’t discover who he was, everything would continue on as normal.

  Penny was undercoating the new door frame in the dining room when Barbara hurried toward her.

  “You won’t believe this.”

  For her sister to be this excited, it must have something to do with her job. “Have you been asked to manage the social media accounts for the company in Dallas?”

  “This isn’t anything to do with work. I just searched for Wyatt’s name on the Internet. I was right. He is a hotshot in the art world.”

  Penny wasn’t surprised by his success, but she was annoyed with her sister. “Wyatt’s here because he needs peace and quiet. If he doesn’t finish the paintings for his exhibition, it can’t go ahead. Snooping into his life won’t help anyone.”

  “I wasn’t snooping. If you know the name he paints under, the information is there for anyone to see. Do you want to know how much his last painting sold for?”

  Now she was stuck between a rock and a hard place. She should have looked on the Internet after they came home from Wyatt’s house. But, while they were gone, Charlie had torn apart two cushions. By the time they’d cleaned up that mess, fed him, and taken him for a walk, it was time to add another coat of paint to the door frame.

  “It sold for one hundred twenty-two thousand dollars!”

  Penny nearly dropped the paintbrush. “Are you serious?”

  Barbara nodded. “And it wasn’t the largest painting on display. That one sold for an undisclosed price.”

  Suddenly, everything about Wyatt began to make sense. He talked about his family and friends, but not about his career. Apart from his upcoming exhibition, Penny didn’t know what he planned on doing for the rest of the year. Maybe he thought she would tell the world where he was or sell his story to a newspaper.

  But if he was so secretive, why was he organizing the tiny home village art project? It was such a feel-good activity that it was guaranteed to generate publicity. And the last thing Wyatt wanted was extra attention.

  “Don’t tell anyone who he is or what his paintings are worth,” Penny warned her sister. “Especially Mom and Dad. If it gets anywhere near the community Facebook page, he’ll think we said something.”

  Diana walked into the dining room with Charlie trotting at her heels. “Who thinks we’ll say something?”

  “Wyatt,” Barbara said. “Penny thinks we shouldn’t tell anyone the name he uses for his art.”

  “That sounds fair. I wouldn’t want everyone poking their noses into my business, either. Have either of you seen the color chart I left on the chair in the living room?”

  Penny shook her head. “Not since last night.” She glanced at Charlie. “You don’t think he ate it, do you?”

  Barbara studied their canine buddy.

  Charlie’s tail banged excitedly against the side of a chair.

  “He doesn’t look guilty.”

  Diana frowned. “He never looks guilty, especially when he’s been up to mischief. I’ll have a look in the attic. I don’t remember taking it there, but you never know.”

  After Diana left, Barbara stayed behind. “What do you think of Wyatt?”

  Penny held the paintbrush a little firmer. “He’s okay, why?”

  “You seem to get along really well. You haven’t dated all that much since you broke up with your last boyfriend.”

  “I’ve been too busy working. And speaking of work, I need to finish this frame before I paint the attic.”

  “You can’t change the subject that easily. Most mornings you go for a walk with Wyatt. You take him muffins and you’re helping him with the art project. That sounds as though you’re more than friends.”

  “That’s because you haven’t had a friend who was male in years.”

  Barbara made a scoffing noise. “Most of the men I meet are even more caught up in computer programming and website development than I am. I’d sooner be on my own than have dinner with someone who talks about search engine optimization techniques.”

  Penny laughed. “At least they speak your language.”

  “It’s not that language I want them to speak,” Barbara muttered. “But I’m no
t the one with a handsome neighbor who spends every spare minute he has with you.”

  “Wyatt doesn’t do that.”

  “Of course he does. But that’s not the point of this conversation. What I want to know is; what are you going to do about him?”

  “Nothing.”

  Barbara sighed. “You can’t do nothing. Ask him on a date.”

  Penny blushed. “He’s leaving Sapphire Bay soon and, as much as I can tell, he isn’t coming back.”

  “Ever?”

  “Ever.”

  Barbara tapped her chin. “In that case, we’ve got a lot of work ahead of us.”

  Relieved that their conversation was over, Penny dipped her brush into the paint. “That’s exactly what I was thinking. Do you have any ideas for our Bed and Breakfast website?”

  “A few. Do you want to be more than friends with Wyatt?”

  “I thought we’d finished talking about him?”

  Barbara grinned. “We’ve only just begun. So, do you want to be more than friends?”

  Penny remembered the feel of his hand in hers, the way her heart pounded as they walked around the lake, and the way his eyes lit up when he saw her. She was thirty-three years old but, when she was around him, she felt as though they were at the beginning of something special.

  “Well?”

  Taking a deep breath, she nodded.

  “Good. While you’re painting, think of something he enjoys doing. If we can tie that into your first date, it might make him see how perfect you could be together.”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  Barbara sighed. “It never is. That’s what makes falling in love so beautiful.”

  “You used to tell us that romance doesn’t exist. Why have you changed your mind?”

  “I’ve seen the way you and Wyatt look at each other. After everything that’s happened, you deserve to be happy.”

  Tears filled her sister’s eyes and Penny gave her a hug. “We’ve all been through a rough time. I appreciate you wanting to help, but Wyatt and I are okay. Whatever happens will be for the best.”