his face and softened his features. “I’ll display these in the living room, prop them up on the chairs—”
“The reason is—” Dena said, and a burst of pleasure from his appreciative gaze at his mother’s work filled her chest. She picked up two paintings, and followed him. “I wouldn’t want to violate her artistic belief.”
“Mom always had a canvas or two on display in a local restaurant,” he said, and arranged several pieces of work on the chairs. “She loved to make a sale.”
“Good.” Dena grinned, and then clasped her hands together. “That was what I wanted to hear.”
He watched her for a moment, his gaze hot and sultry. She felt a quiver of pleasure shoot through her insides. She wished he’d walk over and kiss her again, like he had last night. He seemed to appraise her as much as his mother’s paintings.
“You look good in here,” he said after a few moments. “It definitely is a woman’s place.”
“Yes. I can sense your mother’s love for it—”
“Mom would want me to clear the family name,” Zeke said, and picked up a smaller canvas. “She’d approve of your plan. You know, she married Dad young—barely nineteen and new to this country—but she was more Cabrera than my father, if that was possible.”
That had been quite a speech for Zeke. He’d warmed up to her, and now he offered insights into his life and his family. She wouldn’t push. In fact she’d decided earlier to temper some of her own comments. Be less spontaneous and inquisitive.
She’d be sensitive to Zeke’s needs, and let him set the pace. At least she planned on doing that, if she got to stay. And she needed to stay because she felt the beginning of something opening up, an offering of information in Carli’s and Susie’s murders. It was from an intuitive level, and she had no idea where the energy came from, either from Zeke, the casita, or her new found sense of self.
Half an hour later Dena knew at least ten of the paintings needed new frames, and some had never been framed. She pulled out the last two and gasped.
“Zeke, did you see this one?”
He crossed the room and peered over her shoulder.
“It’s José,” he said, as stunned as she was. He took the two by three foot canvas, propped it on the bed, and stepped back. Dena reached over, rubbed his upper arm. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered.
He cleared his throat. “Mom must have done this in her last year. I can tell by his age. She captured him well.” He stroked the picture, as if stroking José’s nose.
“Was it meant as a gift for you?” Dena asked.
“She never said—”
“Sometimes mothers don’t say, they just do things, and leave clues.” She smiled up at him. “Did your mother have someone who framed her paintings?”
“Maybe Rocky, he’s handy with stuff like that—”
“I’m going to have this one framed for you.”
“Thanks. Yeah, I’d like that. There’s one of those Express framing places up near Point Happy.”
She shook her head. “No. I don’t really want anyone to see what we’ve got, not yet. We’ll need to inventory all of these, title them—”
“There are long folding tables somewhere. Irma should know where they are. I’ll call her. She’ll be home from church soon.”
“Good.” Dena smiled at Zeke’s excitement. This was going to be so good for him. “We’ll have to frame many of the pictures and then assess their value. We’ll find a place to hold the art fair. Do the advertising, and—”
Zeke laughed and caught her hand. “I love your enthusiasm,” he said, then stilled and stared into her eyes. “Thank you, Dena.”
They were so close they could have kissed. She wanted him to kiss her, but he didn’t. So much for horoscopes; maybe the finding love thing was about the casita. She loved it. She hesitated, but her inner voice nudged at her to proceed. She might never solve the mystery surrounding Carli’s death, but she had to try.
“Um, Zeke, I’m wondering about something else.”
“Go ahead, ask.”
“If Rocky doesn’t approve of me living at the big house, I could clean up the casita for you and stay in here. It would save me money. We could work on the project together.”
His shoulders stiffened. “Mom spent her last days here.”
“I know, but that doesn’t bother me. I like the place. I feel a certain comfort,” she said, and softened her voice. “I can sense your mother. It would help me…so I can get in touch with