A Brushstroke with Death by Bethany Blake

Author:Bethany Blake [Blake, Bethany]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington Books
Published: 2020-08-20T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 21

“That dress is positively gorgeous,” Astrid said, taking a momentary break from whatever the heck she was doing with one of her HappyTime toys crystal balls, which she’d inexplicably set on the Owl & Crescent’s farmhouse table. Her laptop was open, too, but she paused in tapping the keys to glance at the 1940s, deep-gray velvet gown I’d hung on a peg near the door, where hopefully it wouldn’t get dirty. It was always risky to bring or wear “nice” clothes into my studio, but I’d had to show Astrid and Pepper—who was painting not a canvas, but her toenails—the dress that Dexter Shipley had seemingly conjured from thin air, while I’d been puzzling over my mother’s portentous farewell.

Well, the long, strapless sheath hadn’t exactly appeared by magic. It had been hanging behind the counter at Something Borrowed, Something New, and, as I’d been staring into space, Mr. Shipley had decided it was perfect for me.

I had to agree. I’d liked the black dress, but I loved the simple, yet dramatic gown.

“It’s not exactly black, but I’m sure my mother will complain that it’s ‘witchy,’” I noted, looking up from a watercolor I was painting by the glow of string lights and sandalwood-scented candles. The scene did not include any people. I didn’t want to run the risk of doing a little conjuring myself, until I could figure out if I’d had anything to do with the arrival of a certain detective in town. “My mother thinks black carries a negative connotation when worn by me, in particular,” I added, rinsing my brush in a mason jar full of murky water.

“Black is classic,” Pepper said, echoing what I’d told my mother back at the bridal shop. She was lounging on the couch with Luna, who was watching the nail-painting process closely. I was pretty sure my ultra-feminine feline friend would’ve liked a manicure.

Rembrandt, who probably thought it was strange to paint one’s “talons,” was also eyeing Pepper from his new favorite spot on Evangeline’s easel. I swore he seemed disapproving.

Pepper didn’t seem to notice that she was being scrutinized. She blew on her toes, then told me, “I think the gown is magnificent. Derek is going to quit his do-gooder doctor nonsense and decide to stay right here the moment he sees you in that thing.”

“Jeez, I hope it doesn’t have that kind of power,” I said, as Mortimer nudged open the door and let himself into the studio, trotting to the rug, where he snorted a greeting and plopped over sideways.

Abandoning my painting for a moment, I went to close the door. “I don’t want Derek to give up a noble calling and stay in Zephyr Hollow,” I added, mainly addressing Pepper. I wasn’t sure if Astrid, who was running a wire from the clear globe’s battery-powered base to her computer, was even listening. “We just want to be friends, even after he does leave for his next assignment.”

“Yes, that’s why you’re attending the gala together,” Pepper noted slyly, applying more coral polish to her nails.

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