Then the house came into view and answered her question. It was beautiful, and it was wood. A lumber baron would hardly build or buy in stone or brick. He would, as he had, build to illustrate the art of his product.

The wood was honey gold, set off by copper trim that had gone dreamy green with age and weather. There was a complex arrangement of decks and terraces, skirting or jutting from both stories. Half a dozen rooflines peaked or sloped, all with a kind of artful symmetry that brought harmony to the whole.

The grounds were informal, as suited the site and the style, but she imagined that the placement of every shrub, every tree, every flower bed had been meticulously selected and designed.

Malory approved of meticulous design and execution.

She pulled up beside a moving van and was about to step out when she heard the wild, delighted barking.

“Oh, no, not this time. I’ve got your number, buddy.” She reached into the box on the floor beside her and pulled out a large dog biscuit.

Even as Moe’s homely face smooshed against the car window, she rolled it down. “Moe! Get the cookie!” And threw the dog biscuit as far as she could manage.

As he raced in pursuit, she nipped out of the car and made a dash for the house.

“Nice job.” Flynn met her at the door.

“I’m a quick study.”

“Counting on that. Malory Price, Brad Vane. Already called it,” Flynn added in subtle warning as he saw the interest light in Brad’s eye.

“Oh? Well, can’t blame you.” Brad smiled at Malory. “It’s still nice to meet you, Malory.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s guy-speak,” Flynn told her, and dipped his head to kiss her. “Just bringing Brad up-to-date. Dana and Zoe on the way?”

“No. Dana’s working, and I couldn’t reach Zoe. I left messages for both of them. What’s this all about?”

“You’re going to want to see it for yourself.”

“See what? You drag me out here—no offense,” she added to Brad, “you have a beautiful house—without any explanation. And I was busy. The time factor—”

“I’m starting to think time’s a real factor.” Flynn tugged her along toward the great room.

“Excuse the disorder. I’ve got a lot going out, a lot coming in today.” Brad kicked aside a chunk of broken lamp. “Flynn tells me you managed the art gallery in town.”

“Yes, until recently. Oh, what a fabulous room.” She stopped, absorbed the space. It needed paintings, sculpture, more color, more texture. Such a wonderful space deserved art.

If she’d had a free hand and an unlimited budget she could’ve made this room a showcase.

“You must be eager to unpack your things, settle in, and . . . oh, my God.”

The shock struck the instant she saw the painting. The stunning blast of discovery pumped straight into her blood, had her fumbling her glasses out of her purse and going down to her knees in front of it for a closer study.