Read Online Lights Out Tonight by Mary Jane Clark - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Mary Jane Clark
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with my stepdaughter later.”
Lamar looked slightly sheepish, while Boomer seemed not have picked up on her sarcasm.
“Oh, yeah? Where you going?” he asked, worried there might be someplace better than the restaurant he’d chosen.
“Not sure yet,” she answered. “I’m going to leave it up to her—if I can ever reach her on the phone.”
As the crew car drove away, Caroline decided to head over to Main Street. She walked past the ivy-covered brick buildings that dotted the edge of campus, aware of a sense of history. Warren College had been established just after the Revolutionary War, and many of the towered structures had been built during the 1800s. There was a feeling of permanence and serenity here. It was a privileged, protected place.
She thought of the parents of the two young apprentices who had died in the car wreck. They had sent their kids off to Warrenstown for the summer, confident that no harm would come to them here. They’d be sleeping in the Warren College dorms, eating in the Warren College cafeteria, working and learning in the theater on the Warren College campus. Instead, those parents were experiencing the worst imaginable heartbreak.
Thank God, Meg was all right. Nick would never get over it if something happened to his daughter.
Caroline strolled down Main Street, stopping to look in the windows. She admired a gauzy, black peasant skirt displayed in a dress shop window and went inside to try it on. As she assessed herself in the long mirror, Caroline wished, as she did at least once a day, that she was taller. But the skirt looked good on her all the same, so she bought it.
She continued down the block, where a turquoise necklace at a jewelry store caught her eye, and she bought that for Meg’s birthday. She wanted to get something for Nick as well. When she spotted the art gallery, she headed for the entrance. A pleasant-looking, middle-aged woman walked toward her.
“Hello. I’m Jean Ambrose,” she said, extending her hand. “Welcome to the Ambrose Gallery.”
Caroline looked around the spacious, open room. Carefully hung paintings graced the pale gray walls. Several precisely arranged pieces of handcrafted furniture sat on the slate-colored carpeting. A few glass display cases housed decorative artifacts. Everything in the gallery had been deliberately selected and displayed to its best advantage.
“You have a beautiful place here,” said Caroline.
“Thank you,” said Jean. “We’re getting ready for the exhibition opening Friday night.” She gestured to an empty space on a long wall. “That’s where Remington Peters’s new portrait of Belinda Winthrop will be displayed.”
Caroline walked over to the wall and looked at the two paintings flanking the spot reserved for the new portrait. In one, the figure of a woman wearing a flowing gossamer gown swayed against a wooded background. In the other, the same woman wore a simple black dress and an especially long string of pearls around her neck. Her hair was swept up in an homage to Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany’s.
“Those, of course, are Belinda Winthrop in the roles she played the last two seasons at Warrenstown. Titania, the queen of the fairies, in A Midsummer Night’s Dream and Madison Whitehall, the main character in Treasure Trove,” Jean explained. “We are so thrilled to be able to add Remington’s newest work, with Belinda as Valerie in Devil in the Details.”
“These are magnificent,” said Caroline. “You can tell the artist cares about his subject.”
Jean smiled. “That’s a bit of an understatement. Remington doesn’t just care about Belinda Winthrop; he adores her. He fell in love with her when they were young, and as his work attests, he’s never gotten over her.”
“That’s a bit sad, isn’t it?” Caroline stared at the portraits.
“Yes, I guess it is,” Jean agreed. “But look at the fabulous product of that emotion.”
“I suppose they are fabulously
Lamar looked slightly sheepish, while Boomer seemed not have picked up on her sarcasm.
“Oh, yeah? Where you going?” he asked, worried there might be someplace better than the restaurant he’d chosen.
“Not sure yet,” she answered. “I’m going to leave it up to her—if I can ever reach her on the phone.”
As the crew car drove away, Caroline decided to head over to Main Street. She walked past the ivy-covered brick buildings that dotted the edge of campus, aware of a sense of history. Warren College had been established just after the Revolutionary War, and many of the towered structures had been built during the 1800s. There was a feeling of permanence and serenity here. It was a privileged, protected place.
She thought of the parents of the two young apprentices who had died in the car wreck. They had sent their kids off to Warrenstown for the summer, confident that no harm would come to them here. They’d be sleeping in the Warren College dorms, eating in the Warren College cafeteria, working and learning in the theater on the Warren College campus. Instead, those parents were experiencing the worst imaginable heartbreak.
Thank God, Meg was all right. Nick would never get over it if something happened to his daughter.
Caroline strolled down Main Street, stopping to look in the windows. She admired a gauzy, black peasant skirt displayed in a dress shop window and went inside to try it on. As she assessed herself in the long mirror, Caroline wished, as she did at least once a day, that she was taller. But the skirt looked good on her all the same, so she bought it.
She continued down the block, where a turquoise necklace at a jewelry store caught her eye, and she bought that for Meg’s birthday. She wanted to get something for Nick as well. When she spotted the art gallery, she headed for the entrance. A pleasant-looking, middle-aged woman walked toward her.
“Hello. I’m Jean Ambrose,” she said, extending her hand. “Welcome to the Ambrose Gallery.”
Caroline looked around the spacious, open room. Carefully hung paintings graced the pale gray walls. Several precisely arranged pieces of handcrafted furniture sat on the slate-colored carpeting. A few glass display cases housed decorative artifacts. Everything in the gallery had been deliberately selected and displayed to its best advantage.
“You have a beautiful place here,” said Caroline.
“Thank you,” said Jean. “We’re getting ready for the exhibition opening Friday night.” She gestured to an empty space on a long wall. “That’s where Remington Peters’s new portrait of Belinda Winthrop will be displayed.”
Caroline walked over to the wall and looked at the two paintings flanking the spot reserved for the new portrait. In one, the figure of a woman wearing a flowing gossamer gown swayed against a wooded background. In the other, the same woman wore a simple black dress and an especially long string of pearls around her neck. Her hair was swept up in an homage to Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany’s.
“Those, of course, are Belinda Winthrop in the roles she played the last two seasons at Warrenstown. Titania, the queen of the fairies, in A Midsummer Night’s Dream and Madison Whitehall, the main character in Treasure Trove,” Jean explained. “We are so thrilled to be able to add Remington’s newest work, with Belinda as Valerie in Devil in the Details.”
“These are magnificent,” said Caroline. “You can tell the artist cares about his subject.”
Jean smiled. “That’s a bit of an understatement. Remington doesn’t just care about Belinda Winthrop; he adores her. He fell in love with her when they were young, and as his work attests, he’s never gotten over her.”
“That’s a bit sad, isn’t it?” Caroline stared at the portraits.
“Yes, I guess it is,” Jean agreed. “But look at the fabulous product of that emotion.”
“I suppose they are fabulously
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