“Yes, we’ve managed to get a lot of work done. He’s out doing errands.”
Irma smiled, yelled something to Bob about getting a soda, and went back inside.
Manny had gone to buy lacquer to spray onto his canvases, and he’d talked about gold leaf paint for signatures. He said he’d never signed his work before because it was a gift from God. Dena hoped she wouldn’t cause his work to become over-commercialized. He’d lose his talent that way for sure.
She looked at her watch, then toward the stables, then beyond them toward the base of the mountains and the trail to Cyril’s estate. There wasn’t enough time. Her ride would have to wait until tomorrow.
Hurrying back to the casita, she stopped and admired the paintings on the long tables. Those untitled by Isabella had stirred her creative juices, and she and Manny had tossed around titles all morning.
A shadow fell across the table.
Her head shot up, her breath captured in the back of her throat. “Oh, Rocky,” she said, and pulled in a quick breath. “I didn’t know you were there.”
Her heart beat fast and she put a hand to her chest. “Did you see Manny’s work?” she asked, and tried to gain some composure. How long had he been standing around the corner?
“I’ve seen it before. It’s rubbish. What do you think you’re going to prove?” Rocky picked up a canvas and glowered at her from below thick black brows.
“Didn’t Zeke explain about the art fair?”
“He did. But my point is why? Why now?” His frown deepened. “It doesn’t make sense. This is a time to lie low, not put Three C’s name in lights.”
“Why would you think that, Rocky?” she asked gently.
He dropped the canvas onto the table. “There’s a ton of bad news out there about Three C’s. We’re being discussed at dinner everywhere in the valley.”
“And you know this because…”
“Because I’m a member of this community, and you’re a stranger. You should go back to the city and stop making trouble.”
How dare he? Her heartbeat quickened and she felt that strong need to defend. She tamped it down and smiled. “This will help Zeke, and Three C’s.”
“I don’t see how. With Susie’s body being discovered, Manny’s association with that college girl’s rape, and—”
“That has got nothing to do with Three C’s.” She tried to stop the bristling defense of Manny that had spread through her chest and caused her voice to rise. She swallowed hard again before continuing. “Besides, Manny is innocent.”
“How do you know?” Rocky asked nastily. “Cyril doesn’t think so, and he has his finger on the pulse of this town.”
He almost spat the words out and Dena drew back a little. “I just know it,” she said, but stood her ground. There was no way in hell she’d let him talk like that about Manny. “Manny’s a good kid—”
“Why? Because he paints pictures?”
“No,” she said, and moved a little farther away from him, rearranged a couple of paintings. She had to calm down, engage him in conversation. “Are you and Cyril good friends?”
Rocky scowled at her. “We know each other.”
“Work related, or do you socialize?”
When Rocky didn’t answer, Dena picked up a painting of a doorway into a hacienda. Maybe she’d pushed too hard too fast. “Do you know the history of these paintings?” she asked.
“Why?”
“Well, I know you and Isabella were close. I thought maybe she’d told you about—”
“What would it matter if she had?”
“It would give me a history to work with.” She forced a smile and waved a hand toward the small paintings. “If they’re local doorways that would add a little more interest, gain a higher price.”
“What does it matter? You’re giving the proceeds away.”
Dena blinked hard a couple of times. Was that what bothered him? He didn’t understand the giving away of funds to gain public awareness. She took in a deep breath and released it slowly.
“The money is going to charity. It will help to restore the Cabrera name in the community. Besides, I think Isabella would have liked it, and—”
“You don’t know what she would have liked.” He slammed his fist against the table causing several paintings to slide into each other. “You know nothing.” His mouth twisted into a sneer. “You never knew her.”
One painting slid to the pavement. With a racing heart, Dena knelt and picked it up. “Well, I didn’t know her, but—”
“Don’t tell me Zeke told you about Isabella, because he didn’t know his own mother.” He