Free Lost Legacy by Dana Mentink Page B

she saw Victor standing in the doorway holding a paper bag. His face was uncertain.
    “Excuse me.” He held up the bag. “Didn’t think you should stay alone, so we brought dinner in.” He shifted slightly. “Nice singing.”
    She shrugged, face flaming. “My brother, Tad. He likes the song.”
    “How old?”
    “Twenty-two.” She saw his eyebrows rise in surprise. “He has Fragile X Syndrome.”
    Victor nodded. “Mentally disabled.”
    Brooke clenched her jaw, hating the words. “He’s okay. They take good care of him at the facility. I’m going to bring him home when we can afford to hire a caregiver to watch him while I work. I teach dance classes, so it doesn’t pay too well.”
    “Your aunt Denise can’t care for Tad?”
    “She’s got her hands full with my father. He has FXTAS. It’s a genetic disorder.” She was surprised as the words tumbled out.
    “I’ve read about it. Tremor Ataxia Syndrome, related to Fragile X but the patients can have no problem, extremely high IQs even, until their fifties when…” He broke off.
    “When they develop tremors, balance problems and dementia.” She looked away.
    “Tough thing to live with.” Victor put the bag down on the table and parceled out sandwiches and chips, arranging the napkins and rearranging them. “I didn’t know what you liked so I went for turkey and Swiss.”
    “That’s fine. Thank you.”
    She went to the window and toyed with the curtain, wondering why she’d spilled the family’s dark genetic secrets to Victor Gage. Was he examining her now? Looking for signs of the FXTAS in her? She stilled her hands. “I talked with Tuney. I think he was in love with Fran.”
    “Didn’t let on about that back in your hotel room.”
    “No. I don’t think he’s the kind of man that would,” she said thoughtfully. “He said I’m being kept in the dark by my father, that I’m just a pawn in this whole game between him and Colda.”
    Victor shoved his hands in his pockets. “And what do you think?”
    She stared through blurry eyes. “I don’t know anymore,” she said, feeling the tears threaten. “I only want to find the painting and go home because I love my father and I’m trying to hold what’s left of my family together. That’s my whole motivation. Can you understand that?”
    After a hesitation he nodded. “Yes, I can.”
    Swallowing hard, she joined him at the table as Stephanie entered.
    “Hi, roomie,” she said, slicking back her damp hair. “I tried out the showers, and you’ll be happy to know there’s plenty of hot water.”
    In spite of her worry, Brooke smiled and they started in on their sandwiches. After a few pleasantries, the conversation faltered until they were eating in silence. Brooke’s mind went back to Tuney.
    You’re just a pawn.
    Why hadn’t her father or Denise told her about their visit to Colda?
    A pawn.
    The word circled in her head.
    Pawn.
    She stood so suddenly the bag of chips fell to the floor, scattering the contents across the worn tile.
    Victor sat, sandwich frozen on the way to his mouth, staring at her.
    “What it is?” Stephanie said.
    “I just figured out what’s wrong with the painting, the one in Colda’s apartment.”

EIGHT
    V ictor couldn’t understand Brooke’s chatter as she thumbed her phone to life, but the excitement on her face was undeniable. It lit something inside him and his breath grew short.
    “It’s the board, the chessboard in the painting,” she said, coming between them and laying her phone on the table so they could both see. Squeezed in, her soft shoulder against his and the sweet smell of her hair made his stomach quiver. He shifted slightly and refocused on the tiny screen.
    “I knew there was something different about it, but I didn’t put it together until just this minute. Colda’s painting of the chessboard is different in these four squares.” She used a pencil to point to the screen. “ The Contemplative Lady shows a chessboard with