1
Spring, present day, Shadows Landing, South Carolina . . .
Tinsley Faulkner’s long, wavy brown hair had paint in it. How did that happen? She’d had it tied back when she was working on her latest painting, but of course she didn’t see the cobalt blue paint until she was feet from her cousin-in-law’s art gallery.
Tinsley stood on the cobblestone sidewalk of downtown Charleston, trying to pick the paint from the tips of her hair. That’s when she noticed the white paint on her forearm.
“I’m hopeless.” Tinsley sighed as she gave up. If anyone would understand her paint-splattered appearance, it was Ellery.
Tinsley opened the door to the gallery and felt as if she’d just walked into her home. She had her own gallery in Shadows Landing in which she displayed her pieces as well as those by some other, lesser-known, artists. Ellery’s gallery in downtown Charleston was the opposite. She had some local artists, and of course insisted on carrying some of Tinsley’s paintings, but she also got the big names of the art world. However, a gallery was a gallery and the paintings, sketches, and statues instantly calmed Tinsley as she smiled at them all.
“Aren’t you a lovely one,” she murmured to a painting.
“That she is. I, however, am not.”
Tinsley looked up at Ellery making her way slowly toward her. Ellery was nine months pregnant and ready to go at any moment.
“You’re stunning,” Tinsley said as she hugged Ellery. “I only wish I was talented enough to capture this maternal glow you have in a painting.”
Ellery rolled her eyes. “I can’t see my feet. I can’t wear heels. I go to the bathroom every five minutes. I swear this kid is playing kickball with my bladder.”
“And you’ve never been happier,” Tinsley said with a knowing grin.
Ellery nodded as she rubbed her hand over her baby bump. “And I’ve never been happier.”
“Ready to get that pedicure?” Tinsley asked.
“I can’t wait.” Ellery went to close the door, but before she could reach it, two men came in.
What struck Tinsley as odd was not their jeans and baggy T-shirts, nor the fact that their tennis shoes were unlaced and appeared too big for them, or even that they had large tattoos on their upper arms. What struck Tinsley as odd was that they didn’t take even a second to look at the art on the walls.
“Can I help you?” Ellery asked.
“Yeah,” the first man said. He was tall, over six feet, and had what looked like a snake tattooed around his arm. The second man stood back with his hands held in front of him. He didn’t look around either. He just stared at Tinsley and Ellery. “My brother and I are looking to sell some art. Do you do that here?”
“We display and sell for select artists and private owners. We also work with other galleries across the country to display prominent artists,” Ellery answered.
“See,” the guy started to say before clearing his throat and standing up straighter. “Our grandmother has this painting that she’s looking to sell. She’s really sick and needs help with her medical bills.”
“Who is the artist?” Ellery asked as the man pulled out his phone.
“I’m sorry, I’m not very knowledgeable on this sort of thing,” he admitted as he showed her the painting.
Tinsley looked over Ellery’s shoulder and frowned. She knew that artist. “That’s a Hamburg. Where did your grandmother find it?” Tinsley asked.
Ellery glanced at Tinsley in surprise. Hamburg paintings were notoriously hard to come by.
“I don’t know,” the man admitted.
“Well, I’d be happy to sell it for her,” Ellery said slowly. “However, I’d need to get it appraised and also see all of the paperwork on it.”
“There’s paperwork for art?” the man asked.
“A Certificate of Authenticity,” Tinsley explained. “It’s proof of the chain of ownership going back to the artist. It’s the artwork’s provenance, used for insurance purposes to prove who the artist is and the list of owners is in date order to help with appraisals and stop forgeries, prevent ownership disputes, and such.”
“Yes, it’s standard in the art industry,” Ellery told him.
“I don’t know if my grandmother has that. Can’t you sell the painting without it?” the man asked.
Ellery shook her head. “No gallery or art buyer will buy a piece of this value without it. I hope you find it. Many people keep those papers in a safe deposit box or a safe.”
“Yeah, I’ll check those out. I didn’t know they were needed. Thanks a lot. You’ve been very helpful.”
Tinsley and Ellery watched the men leave before turning toward each other.
“That was strange, right?” Ellery asked. “Did you notice they never looked at any of the artwork?”
Tinsley nodded. “Very strange. Think it was a forgery?”
“Has to be. No one has a Hamburg without guarding the provenance with their life.”
“They didn’t even know who Hamburg was.” Tinsley shook her head. Unfortunately, art forgery was more common than people thought. “Well, are you ready for your pedicure?”
Tinsley looked at Ellery and saw her face wrinkle in confusion.
“You know, where someone rubs your feet and makes your toes pretty?”
The grooves in Ellery’s forehead deepened before her eyes shot wide open. “Dammit!”
“What?” Tinsley asked.
“I’m not going to get my pedicure,” Ellery said as a tear rolled down her face.
“Why not? We’re going right now.”
“Because I just went into labor,” Ellery cried.
Tinsley looked down at Ellery’s stomach as if expecting the baby to pop out right this instant. “What do I do?”
“Call Gavin,” Ellery said as she made her way to her office as quickly as she could while Tinsley fumbled with her phone.
“Gav, Ellery is in labor!” she yelled the second her cousin answered his phone.
Ellery came walking back out with her hands supporting her lower back and walked to the front door. She flipped the sign to Closed and locked up before cringing again.
“Get her to the hospital. I’ll tell them you’re on your way. I’ll be there soon. How is she holding up?” Gavin
