Carly couldn’t bring herself to complain—she was merely a guest in Ellie’s home. Gabi lived there and, as an almost fifteen-year-old, was certainly entitled to have her friends over. But more and more it became apparent to Carly that she needed a quiet place to work if the book was to be completed on time for the gallery opening. She made a mental note to talk to Ellie about the possibility of finding a short-term rental in town for the duration of her stay. After all, she couldn’t expect Ellie and Cam to put her up for the entire summer any more than she could expect Gabi to forgo entertaining her friends.

On Wednesday morning, she was pinning the last of the templates on the left side of the partition while Cam’s crew nailed up the right. They’d designed it so that there would be a space between the two sides to accommodate the electrical wires to the lighting that Carly wanted over several of the paintings. She was busy moving one template a few inches to the left when she heard the door open. She leaned around the partition in time to see Grace close the door behind her.

“My, this is different,” Grace exclaimed.

“This is the partition I talked about. Cam’s guys have done a terrific job putting it together.” Carly stepped back to admire the layout of the paper cutouts.

Grace came closer and walked the length of the left side of the room.

“I see. Very nice layout.” She smiled. “Assuming, of course, that these paper squares and rectangles represent the actual paintings.”

Carly nodded. “The exhibit will begin here”—she pointed to a section of white wall on the left side of the room—“and continue around here to this side of the partition, then around to other side.”

“Where were you planning on hanging the other artists’ paintings, dear?” Grace asked.

“What other artists? What other paintings?”

“There have been other artists from St. Dennis, you know. A number of them have stepped forward since the word got out that there would be a gallery to display local works. Didn’t Ed tell you?”

“I hope you don’t mean someone’s paintings of her cats.”

“Sadly, yes, I do.” Grace glanced around the room. “I can’t even begin to imagine them hanging here. I’ve seen Hazel Stevens’s work.” She added drily, “I use the term loosely.”

“I’m going to have to speak to Ed. He can’t be promising people that their work will hang here with Carolina’s.” She blew out a long breath. One look at Grace’s face reminded her that Ed could do pretty much whatever he and the others on the council wanted.

“Perhaps we could suggest that the other works be hung in the mansion,” Grace said thoughtfully. “You know, the living artists of St. Dennis will have the privilege of displaying their work in the mansion itself.”

“That’s brilliant.” Carly took a long drink of water from a bottle she’d left on the floor near the door. “I’d never have come up with that.”

Grace’s hand fluttered to indicate the insignificance of her suggestion. “You might have if you knew Hazel’s ego. She’ll be delighted to be able to brag that her paintings were chosen to hang in those venerable halls.”

“You’re so clever. I love it. I’ll do it. I’ll call Ed tonight.”

“Now, what else needs to be done here?”

“The new heating and cooling system needs to be installed and the electrician needs to finish up. As you can see, the painting is done. Cam’s working on the new door over on the other sidewall, and we still have to meet with the security people to see who can do what. Other than that”—Carly shrugged—“we should be good to go by the fall.”

“And your book?”

“The book is this close to being finished.” Carly held up her thumb and her index finger, a fraction of an inch separating the two. “I’m thinking I might get more work done if I were by myself somewhere. I’m used to living alone.”

“A lot going on at Ellie’s, I suspect, with Gabi home for the summer.”

“How did you guess?”

“A teenage girl is bound to have friends in and an iPod with a playlist of all sorts of music on it.” Grace smiled knowingly. “My granddaughter, Diana, is one of the girls who gathers nightly with Gabi and Paige Wyler and several others. I know they spend a lot of time at Ellie’s.”

“Which is great for Ellie because she knows where Gabi is and who her friends are. Important, I know. But at the same time …”

“You don’t have to say it. I’ve shooed them from the lobby at the inn on more than one occasion. They just get a little loud at times.”

“If you hear of any apartments or small houses for rent on a short-term basis, please let me know.”

“I might be able to find a small suite for you at the inn. I can check with Danny and see if we have any vacancies that might fit your needs.” Grace frowned. “But of course, there are always kids at the inn, and sometimes they will run up and down the halls when their parents aren’t paying attention. Though we do have a few cottages …” She appeared to be thinking. “Most are just one bedroom, one bath, and a sitting room. We use them for staff, and sometimes for our interns. I could ask …”

“That’s really nice of you, Grace, but I think I’d like something with a kitchen.”

“I’ll ask around and see if anyone knows of …” She stopped in midsentence. “You know, Lucy mentioned that Sophie Enright will be moving into the apartment over her restaurant sometime soon. I wish I’d paid closer attention to exactly what she said, but I had my mind on something else at the time and it went right past me.” Once again, Grace’s hands fluttered.

“Where’s Sophie living now?”

“She’s in a little rented house right off of Cherry Street. Actually, Jesse—her brother—had rented it, but when he got married, he moved into Brooke’s house. When Sophie moved to St. Dennis, she sublet it from Jesse. Apparently, there’s still some time left on the lease, so I imagine that he could sublet to you, now that Sophie’s moving.” She appeared to pause in thought for a moment. “I’m pretty sure that place belongs to Hal Garrity. I can look into its status, if you’d like.”

“I’d really appreciate it.”

“I’ll let you know what I find out. Now. Let’s talk about the articles I want to write. I thought this first one would be a sort of here’s-what’s-going-on-at-the-Enright-mansion. There are so many rumors flying around town, don’t you know. So I thought we’d just put it out there, and briefly introduce you. Then next week’s article will be more of a ‘meet Carly’ piece. You know, your background, your work. You can talk about your long-standing friendship with Ellie, your galleries, particularly the one in New York, where you displayed Carolina’s work in the past.”

“That was a very brief showing prior to the auction,” Carly interjected. “We only had two paintings for a couple of days. We put them on a very limited exhibit as a favor to the owner, who was a good client of ours and who wanted to sell them. She wanted them shown in a prominent gallery to drum up more interest. That’s how Carolina first came to my attention.”

“You can certainly go into that, though I did a brief piece that year on the auctioning of those two paintings. I read about the sale in the New York Times, and of course recognized Carolina’s name right away. I didn’t have any information other than what was in the Times, though. I did call the auction house for some details, but they gave me the run-around, so I never did expand on the sale and what it meant for a St. Dennis artist to be recognized.”

“We can go more into that if you’d like.”

“I would. I think people should understand just how important Carolina’s work is.”

“There is a problem, though, in that I was trying to keep a lid on the fact that we’ve found a treasure trove of Carolina’s works.”

“Perhaps you could just mention her name along with several others.”

“You mean, like Hazel Stevens?”

Grace laughed. “Oh, yes. You can even use the interview to declare that you’ll be looking over the works to decide who goes into the mansion and who will be relegated to the old carriage house.”

“I like it.” Carly hoped the ploy would work. The thought of Carolina’s exquisite paintings hanging next to some amateur portrait of the artist’s pet was just not going to happen. “Speaking of Carolina’s work …”

“Oh, yes. Dear me, I almost forgot.” Grace opened her sizable bag and took out a small notebook. She flipped through it until she found what she was looking for. “Here we go. These are the folks who are descended from the friends of Carolina who received paintings from her as gifts.” She handed the notebook to Carly, who skimmed it.

“I don’t know any of these people,” she murmured.

“Of course not, dear, but I do.” Grace leaned over Carly’s shoulder. “Look here. Susan Lane is the wife of the late Reverend Lane. His grandfather lived on Bay View Road, a few houses away from Carolina. And this name—Ariel Peters. She’s the great-granddaughter of Larinda Peters, who was the librarian in St. Dennis for more years than anyone remembers. Now, Lawrence Ash, I doubt he’d let us exhibit whatever painting he might have. He’s pretty much an old sourpuss. Always has been.”

“But the others—they’re still around?”

“Most, I’m afraid, are long gone and I have no idea how to trace their descendants. But I can set up a date to visit with Susan and Ariel. You just let me know when you’re ready, and I’ll make the calls.” Grace was all but beaming. “I’m really tickled to be involved in something as big as this, something that could be so good for the town. It does give me a happy lift.”

Carly laughed at the expression. “I’m happy that you’re happy. Let’s hope your enthusiasm rubs off on the rest of the town.”