Finding Annie

By Kevin M. Lawrence

Captivated by a portrait of a little girl, Lea Bowersox begins an investigation into the life of French artist William Bouguereau. On the way, she learns about art, romance, and mostly, herself.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Aug 27, 2003
• ISBN: 9781469729183

Kevin M. Lawrence

Kevin Lawrence lives in Buffalo, New York with his two daughters. He is Buffalo?s biggest New York Yankee fan, and enjoys softball, reading, and baking bread.

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FINDING ANNIE

All Rights Reserved © 2003 by Kevin M. Lawrence

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher.

iUniverse

For information address:

iUniverse

2021 Pine Lake Road, Suite 100

Lincoln, NE 68512

www.iuniverse.com

Cover Design Anna Gabryszak

ISBN: 0-595-29164-3

ISBN: 978-1-4697-2918-3 (eBook)

For Kim

Contents

Chapter 1 Who Are You?

Chapter 2 Three Years Before

Chapter 3 Annie At Home

Chapter 4 Email and Phone Calls

Chapter 5 Erika

Chapter 6 The Date

Chapter 7 Merritt and Maggie

Chapter 8 Renee Safire

Chapter 9 A Birthday

Chapter 10 La Rochelle

Chapter 11 Celeste

The Author Would Like To Thank

Lyndy Branton, Anna Gabryszak, Rick Harrington, Dawn Wertz, Erika Holmquist-Wall, Peter Koncel, and Kimberly Long.

CHAPTER 1

Who Are You?

Lea drove crazily, one hand on the wheel, the other clutching the flyer with the directions on it. From moment to moment, she peered at the badly drawn excuse for a map at the bottom of the sheet. As she approached each unfamiliar intersection, she slowed to read the road signs which were often bent around their poles by bored vandals.

This is 520, I know it is, she thought. So where’s Lord Road? About a half mile, yeah, right. She continued down the blacktopped county road, and felt the sweat begin to stick her hair to the back of her neck. It was going to be another scorcher, a Pennsylvania July Saturday to beat the band. She had risen at five as usual, not even affording herself the bonus thirty minutes on this weekend morning. Her kitchen was spotless, and a load of laundry was sitting in the basket, waiting to be folded. She wanted to be one of the first customers at the sale, walk through, see what there was to be had, and get on her way back home. Now, at about seven forty, all she had to do was find Lord Road.

And there it was, trying to sneak past her on the right while she tuned the radio. She hit the brakes and whipped the Honda around sharply, at this hour there was little chance of plowing into anyone, so the ‘fishtail and correction’ maneuver was accepted without the slightest pang of guilt. Another quick look at the flyer from hell told her she now needed to find Trimble Way, and it was, not surprisingly, ‘about a half mile’ from where she was now.

Could be in the next county, she scoffed.

But then she found it, with three jaunty balloons tied to the mailbox at the bottom of the steep drive. She rode up and smiled when she saw she was the third car there. A white house with forest green shutters and black gable ornamenting stood quietly to her left, a huge weathered barn ahead of her. As she grabbed her purse, two people emerged from the barn. A middle aged man in coveralls carried a cash box; Lea assumed he was the owner. He was walking toward the house with a woman about Lea’s age, in her mid thirties. They looked surprised to see a customer so early.

Morning! Lea Bowersox called as she walked toward the two.

Good Morning, said David Trimble.

Hi, said Becky Winters.

I hope I’m not too early, I had no idea how long it would take to get here, Lea said, looking at her watch.

No, it’s fine, said David. We were just heading in ourselves. Would you have a cup of coffee?

Thanks, but I’ve already hit my limit, Lea replied. She liked David, and thought that any man who offered a stranger a cup of coffee couldn’t be all bad.

Was there something in particular you were looking for? Becky asked. I could show you our furnishings, or were you looking… she tailed off, allowing Lea to finish for her.

The only thing I can think of is an oil lamp, Lea said. I usually just browse until something catches my eye, something to make a project from, you know?

Oh, you’re one of those project people, Becky grinned. You’re one of those people who can make a gorgeous wall hanging from, like, a broom, or something. She smiled while she said this, by the time she had finished her comment, Lea was smiling, as well.

No, not really. I can make a wall hanging from a mop, but I’ve never done a broom, Lea said.

The two women laughed, Becky said Come on in, and they walked up the stairs to the house together. When they reached the dining room, Becky excused herself, and Lea set herself to some serious treasure hunting. Soon, a treasure would find her. In a dusty milk carton under the dining room table, she saw some picture frames and began shuffling through them for no good reason.

Look at her eyes, she thought.

The crate held two complete pictures. The first was a Civil War era line drawing of a small-town sheriff. She saw three frames of different sizes, then several more worthless pieces, including a stained miniature of dogs playing poker. And then, as she pushed the dogs to the front of the box, she caught her breath. Staring back at her from the next fully framed, glassed portrait was a girl of five or six years old. She stood next to a wicker stool, with both hands planted firmly on the seat of the stool. She wore a simple, sleeveless dress. Her hair was mostly straight, dark brown, and someone had pulled some up to the top of her head and tied a small blue ribbon there.

Look at her eyes, Lea thought, unable to look away.

She recalled the moment later, and clearly remembered a rush of air, a breeze blow by her face. She remembered feeling colder at that instant, and somehow afraid, but what she felt mostly was connected. In some way, Lea knew, she was connected with this girl. And at that instant, she also knew, she wasn’t leaving without the portrait.

At about 1:30, the auctioneers