Friends and Lovers by Diana Palmer Read Free Book Online

murmured.
    “Artists,” she murmured back with a laughing, sideways glance. “What are you doing these days?”
    “Getting ready for an exhibit, as usual,” he informed her. “Which is why I wanted you over for supper—you can help me pick the twenty best canvases. I’ve already brought my favorites down from the garage apartment where I usually work and arranged them all around the living room for your inspection.”
    “I’m flattered.”
    He glanced at her. “You ought to be. I’m particular about letting people see my work before it’s on display.”
    She smiled. “I’ve never understood why you work so hard at painting. Granted, you’re very talented; but you’re filthy rich.”
    “I scratch where it itches,” he replied nonchalantly. “And it makes John mad as hell when I exhibit in the bank where
he’s
a major stockholder,” he added with a grin.
    “You aren’t!” she burst out.
    He tossed her a triumphant smile. “Oh, yes, indeed.”
    Madeline laughed in spite of herself. She could see John turning the air blue. It wasn’t so much that he disliked art as that he disliked being put in a position where he had to be courteous to his hated cousin. Even the head of Durango Oil couldn’t raise hell in the lobby of a very conservative bank—it wouldn’t be good for business. And it might give the edge to the competition—where Donald was the major stockholder.
    “You and John are worse than the business rivals in that TV series we all watch and love,” she accused him. “Are you sure you haven’t been taking lessons?”
    He scratched his blond head. “Now that you mention it, I did just happen to jot down a note or two.”
    She leaned back with a sigh. “Looks like I may have to take one or two of my own—from that nice lady who always separates the bad guys.”
    “You do that, sugar,” he teased. “But don’t stand in the middle.”
    “Never,” she promised. Her eyes followed a thin streak of lightning down to the horizon. “Whew, it’s getting rough out here!” she said. “The last time we had electrical storms like this, we had a tornado or two.”
    “Never happen,” he assured her. “It’s just a little lightning. Relax.”
    He turned the corner and pulled the car in between the two stone pillars that marked the long driveway to his suburban house. Parking the car up in front of the sprawling brick house, he cut the engine. “Want me to fetch you an umbrella, or will you risk that elaborate hairdo under your cute little hat?”
    She touched the brim of the beige rain hat that matched her coat and smiled. “I’ll make a mad dash for the door, if you don’t mind. I tend to trip over umbrellas and have them open unexpectedly in cars.”
    “Suit yourself. Here goes!”
    ***
    Dinner was delicious. Maisie, plump and petite, hovered over them—setting food on the table, refilling coffee cups, taking away empty dishes—so unobtrusively that she didn’t interrupt the lazy flow of conversation.
    Afterward, Madeline followed Donald around the living room, frowning over the delightful landscapes that were his specialty. With their delicate pastels and misty settings, they had a fairyland quality, an elusiveness that was unique. Madeline had one of Donald’s paintings herself. It occupied a place of honor over her mantel, and when she was particularly troubled she sometimes felt as if she could walk into the tranquil scene.
    “Odd,” she murmured, studying a painting of a gazebo in a rose garden, “how tranquil your paintings are, when you aren’t tranquil at all.”
    “We all need bits of peace at times,” he murmured.
    She lifted the canvas. “Definitely this one, and…oh!”
    She jumped at the sudden flash that was immediately followed by darkness and a thunderclap that shook the whole house. She almost dropped the painting from the shock. The room was pitch-black.
    “What happened?” she gasped.
    “Power lines are down somewhere,” he muttered. There were odd