The Face of Deceit

She frowned, unsure of his line of thinking. “Jake wasn’t my uncle at the time. Now he is.”

It was Mason’s turn to look confused. He lowered his head and peered at her through his eyelashes. “Say that again.”

Shaking her head, Karen suppressed a grin. “Jake is my uncle now because he married my aunt. Back then, they were still dating.” Her mouth twisted. “My family was odd during that time. Aunt Evie wasn’t sure she wanted to marry an artist, but Jake eventually persuaded her. Shane, my cousin, had it pretty rough, especially before Jake came along. Despite the family money, I’ve heard that my grandmother Elizabeth hated him, made him work for every reward. Jake helped smooth the tension in the family, but Shane left as soon as he could, joined the army and got out. He’s in real estate now. Aunt Evie married pretty young the first time, but her first husband never came back from Vietnam. I guess that’s a bit complex.”

“Not if you’re from the South,” he muttered. “So Jake did wind up raising you?”

“And teaching me pottery—”

“Can you two come with me?”

Karen jumped, twisting to stare at Tyler, who stood behind her chair. Neither of them had heard him come in.

“Now?” Mason asked.

The solemn look didn’t leave Tyler’s face. “Now. Right now.”

Karen glanced at Mason, but he didn’t hesitate. He stood, dropped a twenty on the table and waved his thanks at Laurie. They followed Tyler onto the sidewalk, where he paused only briefly, turning them north toward the tiny arts district of Mercer, speaking as he picked up speed. “Someone broke in to Jane’s gallery and destroyed every piece you had on display.”

Jane Wilson’s Heart’s Art Gallery stood on the corner of Main Street and Fourth, the best location possible, just at the entrance to the Fourth Street Arts Arcade. The rapid growth of Mercer’s arts community in the seventies and eighties had led to an accompanying expansion of tourists to downtown, especially in the summer. The town council had designated Fourth Street as a pedestrian area, closing three blocks of it to motor traffic and planting trees down the middle. Jane’s gallery, specializing in folk art of the area, had flourished, and she’d become one of Karen’s main vendors—and a close friend.

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