Stealing Sunshine Page 4

  Belle had written every word down in the notebook on her lap. Instead of writing down her question as she usually would, she asked him instead. She stared at the words she’d written. “Why is it called Impressionist?”

  He acknowledged her shy inquiry and answered her question in great detail. She feverishly wrote his every word into her journal.

  Belle smiled at the memory from so long ago. It wasn’t the first time she had recalled the very moment she had fallen in love with art. It was a common occurrence, since she worked every day in the very place that it’d happened. She missed him, but she knew he would always be with her. She felt him in the art that they both loved a fraction less than they loved each other. She saw him in the framed portrait that smiled back at her as she came and went.

  Belle positioned the last painting on the cart and strapped it in place. She circled the cart and checked each hook to make sure that there was no way they could come loose. She unlocked the wheels and pushed the cart to the freight elevator where her assistant, Katrina, held the doors open. Belle pushed the cart in and rode up to the gallery level. She was anxious to get the pieces hung as the exhibition was scheduled to open in a week. When she and Katrina arrived in the empty gallery room, her excitement increased exponentially. They locked the cart in the middle of the room, and Belle pulled her portable speaker from her bag and set it on a small table in the corner of the room. A song by P!nk blared from the tiny speaker, and Belle laughed when Katrina just about jumped out of her skin. She turned it down to a reasonable decibel and slipped her white glove back on.

  “You and your music.” Katrina laughed off her shaken nerves and began to release the hooks on the cart.

  Belle unrolled the design schematics prepared by the exhibition coordinator and double-checked her placements. She pointed to the far side of the east wall. “We can start with la Musicienne.” The exhibition was one that Belle had been looking forward to for some time. The Tamara de Lempicka exhibit would prove to be a popular one. To Belle, de Lempicka’s work was evocative and sensual even with its crisp lines and bold colors. Belle had done extensive research on the reclusive Art Deco artist, and she was fascinated by her cool and detached approach of capturing her favored genre, portraiture. Belle also couldn’t dismiss the underlying sexual energies of her female subjects which were fueled by her open bisexuality.

  Belle sang along to the music as she and Katrina painstakingly hung each painting in its place. After each one, Belle measured the hanging distance for the standard 105cm and checked the positioning with her handy pocket level. If she was anything, when it came to work, she was precise. There was no doubt that Belle loved her job, and it showed in every possible way. She smiled with pride after the last piece was placed and she stepped to the middle of the room to admire the completed exhibit.

  “Katrina, come here and look. It’s perfect.” Twenty-two paintings in all and they spanned a lifetime of struggle and success. She took Katrina by the shoulders and spun her in a circle that followed the chronological and technical evolution of de Lempicka’s finest works. Belle couldn’t help but be moved by it. They stared for a few moments more until Katrina pushed the cart away, and Belle’s attention was interrupted by Disney’s Sleeping Beauty show tune, “Once Upon A Dream.” “Oh! I love this song. Dance with me.” Belle reached for Katrina but she was too quick.

  “Whoa! No way. Did you not learn your lesson from the last time?”

  “But it’s a tradition,” Belle said as she swayed to the music. “Fine. I’ll dance by myself.” Belle held her arms around her invisible partner as she whirled around the large room and sung along to the words.

  Katrina always laughed at Belle, not just for her dancing but for having a Disney musical station programmed on her streaming radio. Belle didn’t care either way.

  *

  From the moment Tara and the girls had arrived at the art museum, it was nonstop smiles and mini-lectures. Tara didn’t think there was a single painting or sculpture in the building that the girls didn’t know at least the title or artist of. Although they could have told her anything and she probably would have believed them since she hadn’t the faintest idea about any of it. All she knew was that she enjoyed every moment of it.

  They entered another gallery where both girls decided it was time to sit, and Tara’s legs were thankful. “Aunt Tara, come sit down.” They scooted apart from each other so she could sit between them.

  “Does this mean you’re tired and ready to go?”

  Both girls looked at her in surprise and opposition. “No!”

  Tara raised her hands in surrender. “Sorry. I just thought—”

  “This is what you do. You sit and look at the art and then think about it,” Eden explained before she leaned forward, propped her elbow onto her knee, and then rested her chin in her hand.

  “Like that one. It’s my favorite.” Olivia pointed at the painting in front of them.

  “Wow. That’s beautiful.” Tara walked over to read the placard. Taming the Flamingo, Louis Comfort Tiffany, 1888. The watercolor depicted a beautiful woman draped in a dress of shimmering fabric as she held out a graceful hand for two pink birds. Tara was enamored by the subtle rendering of the woman’s smooth skin and the reflections of light captured in the water-filled orb that hung almost divinely in the air. She turned back to the girls with a questioning look. “Tiffany? Like the lamps?”

  The girls looked at each other and giggled. “Yes,” Eden proclaimed.

  Olivia’s response was more animated. She jumped up from the bench. “They have a whole room just for those!” She grabbed Tara by the hand. “Let’s go see it.”

  Eden hopped up and grabbed her other hand before they both pulled her out of the room. Tara found herself humored by her complete faith in the knowledge of two seven-year-old girls and equally curious to learn more.

  On their way they passed a set of closed double doors with a sign that read “Closed for renovations. Art Deco Portraiture: Works of Tamara de Lempicka.” Tara was intrigued and made a mental note to return after the exhibit opened. She was amused at how influenced she was by the passion of two little girls. In the doorway of the Tiffany Room, Tara pulled Eden and Olivia to a halt. They looked up at her with confused faces before she knelt and pulled them into a bear hug. The girls squeaked as she smooshed them together and gave them a little shake for emphasis. When she let them go and stood up, neither of them moved. They glanced from her to each other and back in stunned silence. Tara laughed and said, “What?” as if she had no idea what had just happened. She smiled and left them standing halfway into the hallway.

  “Hey! Wait for us,” they sang out as they ran one to each side and took a hand.

  They wandered quietly as the three of them studied the large colored stained glass artworks mounted in the walls. Each piece was lit from behind to show the painstaking detail in the glass. Tara had a newfound appreciation for the artist as more than a mere name behind a brand of lamps.

  As she moved through the room, the faint sound of music caught her attention. Blocking the archway to another room was a thick purple curtain behind a folding room divider. Just like on the closed doors in the hallway, there was another sign that announced the upcoming exhibit. Tara’s curiosity was piqued, and she leaned in closer to a small opening in the curtain. On the opposite side of the room she could see two women. They each held one side of a large gold framed painting while they secured it to the indistinguishable wires that hung from the ceiling. The women stepped back and assessed the placement of the boldly colored reclining nude.

  Tara couldn’t take her eyes off of it. The crisp detail of the curved figure was visible even from where she stood. One of the women unlocked the large cart and wheeled it toward the door as the other stepped into its place and spun in a circle in the center of the room. Tara’s heart leapt in her chest. It was Belle.

  Tara pushed in closer to the divider. She watched as Belle and the other woman laughed before Belle began
to waltz around the room by herself. Tara smiled at the innocence and carefree dance to what she thought sounded like a song from a Disney movie. She couldn’t hear the words, yet the whole world around her faded into a cheerful swirl of color and light. She watched Belle swing and sway to the music, and Tara felt an overwhelming sense of joy. She wanted to be the invisible partner Belle shared that moment with.

  “Oooh, Aunt Tara! You’re not supposed to do that.”

  Tara jerked back at the sound of Eden’s voice next to her. “Shit! I mean—shoot. Shoot. Not shi—right. Do what? I’m not doing anything. Just closing the curtain so it doesn’t ruin the surprise.” Tara pulled the curtain closed and resisted the urge to look again.

  “Can we look, too?” Olivia asked.

  “Um, no. We should go.” Tara pointed toward the doorway on the other side that led to another gallery.

  “Aww, we won’t tell,” Eden stated.

  “Promise,” Olivia said.

  Tara knew she should have stuck with her first answer, but she wanted to see Belle again as much as the girls wanted to break the rules. “Okay, but just real quick. Come here.” Tara pushed the girls together and opened the curtain enough for the three of them to see into the other room. The girls oohed and aahed at the sight of a now darkened room lit by the overhead spotlights on the artwork. It was a dramatic scene, but coolness rushed through Tara when she realized Belle was gone. “Why does she keep doing that?” Tara whispered to herself as she closed the curtain, which prompted a series of disappointed moans and groans from the twins.

  Tara felt a tug on her arm and looked down at Eden who stared up at her shyly. “What’s wrong, sweetie?” Tara asked.

  “I gotta go to the potty.”

  “Oh! Of course you do.” Tara was jolted out of her haze and into a sprint for the nearest bathroom.

  As Tara waited in the hall for the girls, her stomach growled and she looked at her watch. She was shocked at the time and scolded herself for her absentmindedness. “They’re probably starving to death. Lucy’s going to kick my ass.” For all the fun she was having with her nieces, she forgot that they were children, and she was the adult. When the girls came out of the bathroom, she advised them that they were going to get lunch.

  “See. I told you that she didn’t forget,” Olivia said to her sister.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were hungry?” Tara asked as she mentally slapped herself on the forehead. The girls shrugged. “Okay. Let’s go.” It was as they were leaving that Tara noticed the advertisement for a part-time security position posted on the reception desk. Without thinking, she stopped the girls and asked the docent behind the desk for an application. She rolled the papers and slipped them into her back pocket. Tara held out her hands for Eden and Olivia. Each gripped a finger and they headed out of the museum for lunch.

  Chapter Seven

  Belle screamed like she’d just been electrocuted and ripped the earbuds out of her ears when something tapped her shoulder. She spun around and her face burned. “What the hell, Kyle!” The blood pounded in her ears as her heart raced in her chest. He knew full well that she despised being scared, and she hated that Kyle was always so damn amused by it, every single time. “Why?”

  He tried but failed to hide his amusement. “I’m sorry. But your face went from ash white to crimson red in a split second.”

  “Then why do you insist on doing that? You know I fucking hate it.” Belle was beyond angry. She didn’t understand why in the ten years she’d known him he still did it or why she wasn’t used to it. As her heart rate decreased, the heat in her face subsided and so did her annoyance.

  “Don’t be mad. I don’t do it on purpose.” She glared at him with the last of her anger. “Most of the time. It’s those damn headphones. I never know when you have them in.”

  “Call my name, dumbass. If I don’t answer then I can’t hear you.” Belle took a deep breath. “Sorry. You’re not a dumbass.”

  “I know. It’s okay.” Kyle pulled out the chair at Belle’s desk and sat down.

  “Not busy today?” Belle asked as she turned back to the crate she had been unloading before Kyle interrupted her.

  “Eh. Not really. I was bored so I came down here to bother you for a while.” Kyle twisted like a child back and forth in his chair.

  Belle lifted a framed etching from the box and slid it into its designated storage slip against the wall. Hundreds of similar slots stretched the length and height of the environmentally monitored vault. Air pressure, temperature, and humidity levels in the room were controlled for the protection and conservation of the materials and artifacts stored inside. It was common for workers who were not used to the environment to become lightheaded. “Are you feeling okay?” Belle chuckled as she watched Kyle spin in two full circles in her chair.

  “I’m fine,” he said when he stopped himself before he could make a third rotation. “A little dizzy now.”

  “I think we should go outside and get some air.” Belle grabbed his elbow and helped him out of the seat.

  “Yeah, I think you’re right.”

  “This is what you get for coming down here and scaring the crap out of me.” Belle laughed at his lightheaded expense. “Deep breaths,” she advised him.

  They took the elevator to the gallery floor level as Belle preferred not to have Kyle black out and tumble down the steps. By the time they made it upstairs, Kyle was back to normal. “I always forget about the air down there.”

  “Maybe that’s why you always forget how much I hate when you sneak up on me.”

  “Yeah, that’s it.” Kyle grinned and exited the elevator.

  Belle followed him out before she stopped and remembered something. “Meet me in the lobby. I forgot my purse downstairs.” Kyle nodded and Belle stepped back into the elevator as the doors closed.

  Belle grabbed her purse from her desk drawer and took the stairs back up to the lobby. She pushed open the door, and it stopped short as someone grunted in pain on the other side. “Oh! I’m so sorry.” Belle froze in place and her voice caught in her throat. “I, um…” It was her—the woman from the ballet and from the bar.

  “Hi,” the woman said in a soft, smooth voice.

  “Hi.” Belle responded so quietly that she wasn’t even sure she’d said the word out loud.

  “Hey there!” Kyle said interrupting the awkward silence Belle found herself in as she stared into the ice blue eyes of the woman in front of her. “That was a good knock with the door. Are you all right?”

  She looked to Kyle. “Hey, Kyle, right? Yeah, I’m great,” she answered and then returned her glance to Belle and smiled.

  Belle’s stomach fluttered like a swarm of butterflies. How does she know his name? Her heart pounded in her chest, and she felt the heat sear through her body.

  “I’m Tara,” she said as she held out her hand.

  Belle glanced down at the hand being offered. She was afraid to touch it for fear that the woman would somehow feel the energy that surged through her.

  “This is Belle, Belle Winters,” Kyle said.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Belle.”

  Her smile was kind and bright, and Belle’s stomach twisted at the sound of her name in Tara’s voice.

  “Me, too. I, yes…it’s nice to meet you.” Belle wanted to crawl under the security desk and hide.

  Tara smiled brighter at Belle’s inability to communicate. “I don’t want to keep you. I’m sure you were on your way to somewhere more important.”

  “I…we, no. I mean yes. We were going—”

  Kyle interrupted her. “We were going to take a walk. Get a little fresh air. I think we both could use it.”

  “Excellent. That sounds like a wonderful idea. I’m sure I’ll see you around, Ms. Winters.”

  “I’m sure you will,” Kyle said before he reached for Belle’s hand and pulled her from the spot she was frozen to.

  “Thank you,” was all Belle had managed to say, and it made no sens
e. She wanted to run out the front door, and had Kyle not had such a firm grip of her hand she would have. When they got outside, Belle panicked. “What the hell was that? I sounded like a moron!”

  “Aw, sweetie. I thought you were adorable.” Kyle grinned from ear to ear.

  “Adorable? Did I even make one complete sentence? What was she even doing there?”

  “Um, it looks like she was working.”

  “Wait. What? What do you mean ‘working’? She doesn’t work there.” Belle stopped walking and waited for Kyle to answer.

  “Belle, she was wearing a guard uniform. I’m pretty sure that’s not a new trend. Eh, at least I hope it isn’t.” He made a humorous sick face, but it was lost on Belle in her flustered state.

  “A uniform? What? Since when? How did I not see that she was wearing a uniform?” Belle battered him with questions.

  “I’d say because you never took your eyes off of hers. Which is understandable. Have you ever seen eyes so blue before?” Kyle said with a grin.

  “I’ve never. They were incredible.” For a split second, Belle wished she was still looking at them. Then reality hit her. “She works here? I haven’t been able to get this woman out of my head for weeks and now she works with us? And I just made a complete jackass of myself in front of her.” Belle sat on a park bench and buried her face in her hands. “This can’t be happening. Third time’s a charm, I guess.”