Free In Shelter Cove by Barbara Freethy

inclined to talk to her about Derek and the theft if she wasn’t such an outsider. “I’d like to do it, if they’ll take me on,” she said finally. “I’ve never worked in retail.”
    “You’ll pick it right up. You already know how to sew and I’ve shown you the basics of quilting.”
    “That’s true,” Brianna murmured.
    You’ll meet people, too. Quilting is very popular around here. Our community quilting nights draw quite a crowd,” Nancy added.
    “What’s that over there?” Lucas asked, interrupting their conservation. He pointed to the hillside above the beach, where a dozen kites were flying.
    “They’re practicing for the kite-flying competition this weekend,” Nancy answered. “Your father won it three years in a row when he was a kid.”
    “He did?” Lucas asked, clearly impressed. “Can I do it, Mommy?”
    “Sure, I guess so.” She knew nothing about flying a kite, but how hard could it be?
    “They have kite-building kits at the quilt shop,” Nancy told her. “We can pick one up when we’re there.”
    As they neared the waterfront, the streets grew more crowded. It was long past lunch, but the smells of garlic and fish still lingered in the air. People were lined up at Carl’s Crab Shack to buy clam chowder in bread bowls. Coffee was brewing at the Java Hut and warm, salty pretzels were being sold on the corner by a street vendor. It was like a picture postcard: the boats rocking in their slips, people riding their bikes or strolling along the bay. A beautiful, idyllic seaside town.
    But as they turned a corner, Brianna’s sense of peace fled. Amid the clothing boutiques and cafés was the Markham Gallery, anchoring the far corner with its impressive brick-walled presence. There Derek had gotten his first exposure to the world of art dealing and had made his initial contacts. The gallery was one of the first places he’d taken her to when he’d brought her to Angel’s Bay. Everyone had been so happy to see him, greeting him like a long-lost friend. How quickly that had changed after the robbery.
    “There’s the bakery,” Nancy said. “Why don’t we get our treat before we go to the quilt shop? I’m a little hungry.”
    “Can we, Mommy?” Lucas asked eagerly.
    Brianna hesitated. “Why don’t you two go ahead? I’ll window-shop for a few minutes and meet you back here.”
    Nancy took Lucas’s hand and crossed the street. Once they had entered the bakery, Brianna headed toward the gallery, which was housed in a three-story brick building with floor-to-ceiling windows. She stepped inside the airy space, feeling as if she were stepping back in time. A wall of beautiful mirrors greeted her, their cut glass sparkling under the light. Tall white columns divided up the space, and paintings hung prominently on the walls. A black granite counter fronted a small reception area, where a young woman sat behind a computer. She appeared to be in her late twenties, with dark brown hair pulled back in an elegant updo. She spoke on the phone in low tones, lending an air of hushed importance to the room. When she saw Brianna, she ended the call and rose to her feet with a welcoming smile.
    “Can I help you?” she asked.
    Brianna hesitated, not sure where to start. The Markhams had been interviewed by the private investigator and the police. What on earth could she hope to find out?
    “I know you,” the woman said suddenly, her gaze narrowing. “You’re Derek Kane’s wife, aren’t you?
    “Yes, I am,” Brianna replied, surprised. “Have we met?”
    “No, but I saw you at the trial. I’m Katherine Markham. My aunt and uncle, Gloria and Steve Markham, own this gallery. I was really sorry to hear about Derek’s death. He was a good guy.”
    There was no judgment on Katherine’s face, which was surprising. The local art community had turned on Derek. He’d stolen paintings of great importance to the community, and the breach in security had led to the abrupt end of the art