The Angels' Share (The Bourbon Kings #2) - J. R. Ward Page 0,138
his grass shorts in the game room. But the guy wasn’t flexing his fingers over the two decks of cards on the felt poker table. He wasn’t racking balls on the antique pool table. He wasn’t playing chess against himself at the marble top with the hard-carved pieces nor was he fiddling with the backgammon board.
Lenghe was over at the far wall, staring at the painting that had been hung dead center in the middle of the incredible oak paneling.
Spotlit from above, the depiction of the face of Jesus Christ was done in tones of ivory and deep brown, the downcast eyes of the Savior so realistic, you could practically feel the divine sacrifice he was about to make.
“Not bad, huh,” Lane said softly.
Lenghe wheeled around and clutched his heart. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wander. Well, I did. But I figured you and that lady could use some privacy.”
Lane came into the room and paused at the pool table. The balls were in the rack and ready to go, but he couldn’t remember the last time anyone had put a cue stick to them.
“I appreciate that,” he said. “And your help. You cut the time that debacle would have taken in half.”
“Well, without meaning any disrespect to the lady, I can kind of see why you might encourage her to find happier lodging somewhere else.”
Lane laughed. “You Midwesterners have the nicest way of putting down someone.”
“Can I ask you something?” Lenghe pivoted back to the painting. “This nameplate here … it says …”
“Yes, it is a Rembrandt. And it’s been authenticated by multiple sources. All the paperwork on it is somewhere in this house. In fact, last year a private collector who came to the Derby Brunch offered my father forty-five million for it—or so I heard.”
Lenghe put his hands in his pockets as if he were worried that they might make contact with the oil painting’s surface.
“Why is it hidden all the way in here?” The man glanced around. “Not that this isn’t a grand room or anything. I just don’t understand why a masterpiece like this wouldn’t be displayed more prominently, maybe in that pretty parlor up front.”
“Oh, there’s a good reason for it. My grandmother, Big V.E. as she was called, didn’t approve of gambling, drinking, or smoking. She bought the painting overseas back in the nineteen fifties and installed it here so that anytime my grandfather and his good ol’ boys had a hankering to be sinful, they had a reminder of exactly who they were letting down.”
Lenghe laughed. “Smart woman.”
“She and my grandfather collected Old Masters paintings. They’re all over the house—but this one is probably among the most valuable even though it’s on the small side.”
“I wish my wife could see this. I’d take a picture on my phone, but it wouldn’t do it justice. You have to stand in front of it in person. It’s the eyes, you know?”
“She’s welcome here anytime.”
“Well, my wife, she doesn’t like to travel. It’s not that she’s worried about flying or anything. She just hates to leave her cows and her chickens. She doesn’t trust anyone with them or the dogs. Not even me. Those animals and those birds are her babies, you know.”
As Lenghe refocused on the masterpiece with a wistful expression on his face, Lane frowned and put a hip on the pool table.
“You really like it, don’t you,” Lane said.
“Oh, yes.”
Lane palmed the white cue ball and threw the thing up in the air a couple of times, catching it as he thought.
“You know,” he said, “there have been some changes at the Bradford Bourbon Company since you and I saw each other last.”
Lenghe looked over his shoulder. “I read about them in the paper. New interim CEO, an outsider. Smart move—and you want a numbers cruncher if you’re going to exert control over the finances. And I should have congratulated you right away, Chairman of the Board.”
Lane bowed his head. “Thank you. And yes, we are developing a plan that optimizes cash flow. I think I see a path out of our black hole, thanks to Jeff.”
As thunder rattled the French doors, Lenghe nodded. “I have faith in you, son.”
“My point is, I think I can safely say that if you give us only two months of grain on account, we should be okay. We’ll give you favorable terms, of course. But really, after what Jeff is proposing to do, that should keep us going.”