Free Where Trust Lies (9781441265364) by Laurel Oke Janette; Logan Oke Page A

Quebec.
    â€œOui,” she said as she looked into her handbag for the amount. But Monsieur Laurent was already holding out the correct bills to the artist as he murmured to Beth, “Your father instructed me to handle all the financial transactions during the trip.”
    The painter folded brown paper around the purchase and smiled broadly. “Enjoy, mademoiselle.” Monsieur reached for the package.
    Beth paused, looking once more at the art display. Instead of knickknacks and baubles, a painting would accurately convey to my class these other areas of Canada. Immediately Beth broke into a smile. And Julie could do the paintings!
    â€œMonsieur, ask him, please—does he have any blank canvases?”
    â€œMiss Thatcher? You want them blank—you mean, unpainted?”
    â€œYes, so my sister can paint scenes on our journey.”
    Eyebrows raised, Monsieur Laurent posed the question to the startled artist. They discussed the unusual request for several minutes before it appeared they had arrived at a price.
    â€œIt’s not a very good arrangement, miss. He’s charging a considerable amount for having already prepared the canvases.”
    â€œIt’s all right. Please tell him my sister will paint for me along the way.”
    â€œI did so, Miss Thatcher. But he’ll still go home and tell his friends about the silly tourist who preferred to buy his paintings blank.”
    Beth blushed as Monsieur Laurent added more coins to the ones in the man’s hand. He grinned, giving an exaggerated shrug.
    â€œBethie, did you see this bag?” Julie called. “Isn’t it exquisite?”
    â€œIt’s very nice. Don’t you have one about that size?”
    â€œYes, darling, but it’s a different color. They’re completely different. Don’t you think this would go nicely with my green-and-white plissé blouse?”
    â€œReally, Julie, I don’t know why you bother asking me. You would certainly know better than I.” This was met with a bright laugh.
    â€œYou’re right of course, sister dear. I guess I’m just making conversation.” Julie grinned. “What did you buy? A painting?”
    â€œSeveral, actually. Monsieur is having them delivered. But . . . well, they’re not painted yet.”
    Julie’s eyebrows drew together.
    â€œI want you to do them . . . along the way. So I can show my students how eastern Canada looks and teach them about other parts of our country.”
    Julie shrugged and turned back to the handbag. “I guess I’ll have time. What else will there be to do at sea?”
    But Beth’s attention was drawn to someone behind them. “Don’t look directly, Julie,” she whispered, “but have you noticed that young man who keeps looking in our direction? No, don’t look at him!”
    Nervous laughter erupted from both of them, and Julie quickly slipped behind a display of broad-brimmed hats, her face a mixture of amusement and alarm. “Is he still looking? Did he walk away?” she said, her giggles uncomfortably loud.
    Beth put a hand to Julie’s mouth. “Yes, he’s coming this way. He’s looking right at us.” Julie’s eyes grew large, and she peered around a hat.
    â€œ Bonjour ,” called the stranger as he approached. “Do you speak English?” he asked boldly. “Will you help me, please? I could really use a woman’s opinion. And you look as if you might know a thing or two about scarves.”
    â€œYou’re English?” Julie wondered.
    â€œI’m American.” Then shifting his bags into one hand, he extended the other toward Beth. “My name’s Nick—Nick Petrakis. And I promised my mama that I’d bring her back a new scarf, but I have no idea what constitutes a good one versus a second-rate one. Can you help a fellow out?”
    Beth took the offered hand with a nod. “Of