Page 109 of Flirting with Forever

“Crap.” Cam felt an iron weight drop in her gut and sunk into a chair. “I guess Albertus wasn’t quite the romantic Van Dyck would have liked us to think.”

Packard gave her a weak smile. “Perhaps he used the money for a pair of diamond bobs.”

Cam tried to summon the painting in her head. Much of her examination technique relied on intuition, intuition based on years of study and admiration. She thought of the ringlets framing the woman’s forehead, the sharp, clear expression in her chestnut eyes, and the stippled fur tippet that hung over her shoulder. It was a Van Dyck. She had absolutely no doubt—not then, not now. Not that her certainty would carry much weight here, not when her career was the one that would benefit from the decision, which is why she’d taken such care to have others establish its authenticity too.

Packard took off his glasses and massaged his temple. “We’re in trouble, Cam. Ball’s down there waiting to be honored for his generous gift. The museum’s already issued the press release. Hell, the gift’s going to be the cover story in the paper tomorrow. No matter what we do at this point, it’s going to be a huge embarrassment to everyone involved.”

Ever the gentleman, Packard made a point not to bring his eyes to rest on her, but Cam realized she was going to be sucked into the quicksand of this debacle as well. In fact, her shoulders were going to be where everyone else would try to find a toehold. She knew what she owed Packard. She knew what she owed the museum.

“I’ll tell Ball.” She held up a hand to stop Packard’s protest. “He’s a good guy. He’ll be disappointed, but he’ll understand. And,” she said sadly, “I’ll resign.”

Packard sighed, and she knew it was over.

“Hate to see it, Cam.”

You and me, both, pal. “Best thing, I think.” She fought back the waves of disappointment that seemed intent on drowning her tonight. “I’ll work the gala—er, unless you’d prefer I didn’t.”

He clapped her on the shoulder. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He stood to rebutton his jacket and gave her a sly grin. “Too bad, really. I was sort of looking forward to seating an executive director most of the world would have seen nude. Would have knocked the board biddies on their asses.”

“Ack! You saw the paintings?” She felt her face turn six shades of crimson.

“Of course. Ball called me for advice. Who do you think helped quash the story till Monday?”

“Gosh, thanks.” Not that the delay made much difference now.

“Of course, the price was an exclusive interview. Sam Arnofsky from the paper will be here Monday at nine for an in-depth interview. I left the contact info and a sheaf of photos he dropped off on your desk—Oh, and I also left a note Ball wrote on how he thinks they’re going to frame the story. He thought it might help.”

“Super. Appreciate it, boss.”

“Boss no more. Just an admirer. Tell you what, though. This Peter guy’s a hell of a painter. Starkly postmodern, yet this undeniable reference to classical proportion and light. And the scale… Jesus, it’s like walking into a room and finding yourself face-to-face with the Taj Mahal or the top of the Chrysler Building.”

“Or the Jumbotron from Madonna’s Truth or Dare Tour.”

“Cam, it’s a helluva tribute. I don’t think the Taj Mahal is too far from the mark. Will I get to meet him?”

“Ah, yes, actually,” she said, feeling her heart skip. “He’s here tonight.”

“Interesting.” Packard nodded. “Then you’ll be…all right?” His country club green eyes had softened to a grassy gray. He meant without her job.

“Yeah,” she said quickly. “You know me. Sure. Absolutely.”

“That’s good. And you’ve got the book to work on, right?”

“Uh, no, actually.”

“What? You’ve canceled another one?”

“Yeah, um, the Lely thing didn’t pan out.”

“Are you kidding? What about the muse? The woman he raised from the streets? C’mon, Cam. Sex, drugs, and the King of England?”

“Um, you know me. I like to work with as clean a slate as possible. Turns out there’s more known about the woman than I realized. Facts, it seems, only complicate my stories.”

“Well, the next one, then?” He gave her an encouraging look.

“You bet.”

Cam stood too, dreading the thought of Ball’s face when she told him the news. She handed the page back to Packard. Then it struck her.