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Ellie was also a staunch supporter of the environment. The entire building was planned to be eco-friendly, using solar energy to power the entire building. She took every measure to assure the county that this would be something they could be proud of and which would encourage other communities across the country to support the arts.Andthe environment. She knew intuitively that she was doing the right thing. When she submitted the plans to the county board, they could not find a single reason to stop her from going forward with the project.
The two-story building included skywalks connecting the various sections, anchored in the center by a staircase. The ceiling would have skylights, giving the interior a sense of openness and space. The natural light was ideal for the interior landscaping created by a local landscape artist.
When complete, the building itself boasted fifty thousand square feet and an outdoor Belgian-block patio. It was surrounded by several acres of landscaped greenery and open space. Three sides of the first floor were devoted to workshops and art studios facing inward toward the courtyard. Each had glass sliding doors to offer the most exposure and allow for secure closing overnight. The fourth side consisted of specialty shops selling food items and straddled each side of the large folding doors leading to the patio.
There was a spot for artisanal cheeses and a café that served and sold specialty teas and coffees. Another sold baked goods. There was a shop selling handmade ice cream, a gourmet sandwich shop, and a wine cellar. Not wanting to deal with kitchen issues, and to minimize her interactions with the Board of Health, all food was brought in freshly prepared, daily. It was a grab-and-go style. Patrons had the option of grabbing something on their way out or sitting at one of the small café tables dotting the interior courtyard. The outside courtyard also held several tables with umbrellas for al fresco dining, weather permitting.
Ellie wanted the center to be a destination, a place where you could bring the family for an inspiring day, a good sandwich, and a great cup of coffee. In the evening, art events could make use of the wine cellar, and she would rent out the space for private parties and musical events. She viewed the center as a new location for community functions as well as a place to support the arts. All of them.
The second floor concentrated on vintage stores, each with a theme, including Christmas items, collectible dolls, perfume bottles, nautical merchandise, neon signs, and vintage handbags.
Ellie was also cognizant of artists’ fluctuating incomes. She knew the money wasn’t much and not consistent. In the spirit of fairness, rent would be a small percentage of their monthly sales. It was somewhat of an honor system since many of the tenants dealt in cash, but Ellie had faith in the better part of human nature.
The Stillwell Art Center was going to be Ellie’s legacy. She hoped at some point it could become a co-op, where the artists each had a stake in the upkeep, but when or if that happened, she would bequeath it as part of her estate.
The center had been two years in the making, and during that time she had scrutinized every applicant who wanted a space in the building. She had a glassblower in the front corner and a pottery thrower in another. In the far corner was the quirky man who made pieces of sculpture out of cut-up beer cans. Across from him, a brother-and-sister team had a restoration business adjacent to the café. By the time of the grand opening, the Stillwell Art Center was home to over thirty artists and vintage shops and a half dozen food vendors.
Ellie Stillwell came from a long line of landowners. They were conscious of maintaining the integrity of the county and its resources. They were also benefactors of the local libraries and animal-welfare organizations, but for the most part they didn’t flaunt their wealth or their generosity. They preferred to be low-key. Her father had once told her that if people think you have a lot of money to give away, they also think that you should give some of it to them. Not for any particular reason. Just because you have it.
“It’s none of anyone’s business how we spend our money,” he would say. When there were events that listed the names of the patrons, her family’s generous contribution was always listed as coming from Anonymous.
She had met her husband, Richard, when they were both attending Duke University. He was in the law school, and she was working on her PhD in art history. They had been married for forty-five years when he had died of a massive coronary.At least he didn’t suffer. At least not for very long.That was how she consoled herself. They had had no children, so now, a widow at age seventy, Ellie was going to put her own resources to work.
Richard had been one of the highest-paid real-estate lawyers in the country. They had lived a simple life, spending very modestly, and Richard had been a keen investor. When he died, Ellie was stunned, but not totally surprised, that her net worth, including what she had inherited from her family, was over fifty million dollars. Even after using half of it to fund the arts and support animal causes, she was still left with enough money to last the rest of her days, which had become boring without Richard. However, with the arts center project, she and her two German shepherd dogs, Ziggy and Marley, had something to do every morning. She and Richard had taken one of their vacations in the Caribbean, where Richard had developed a love for reggae music. Hence, she had named the dogs after the music icon, Bob Marley, one of the pioneers in the genre, and his son Ziggy, who has continued spreading the sound and following in his father’s philanthropic footsteps. Ellie liked both the music and the sentiment.
One of the must-haves for the art center was for part of the open area to be used for a dog park, where well-behaved pooches could mingle and play. A cleanup station was also available. During the construction, Marley and Ziggy had marked their territory, giving it their seal of approval.
Ellie thought it was amusing that the politicians who had originally fought her efforts were now clamoring for an invitation and photo ops. The social climbers were also green with envy. For decades, they had ignored Ellie. Plain Ellie, the art professor. Now, they were also kissing her you-know-what for that coveted, colorful, translucent, glassine piece of paper saying:
We request the pleasure of your company for the grand opening of the Stillwell Center for the Arts.
Of course, the governor would be there, as well as the state’s two senators, and the mayor of Asheville. It was shaping up to be a momentous occasion in the history of North Carolina. Ellie had to admit, she was enjoying every minute of every aspect of what she hoped would turn out to be a life-changing event for the area. But there was no way she could know exactly how life-changing it would be, both for her and so many others.
* * *
Cullen was pacing the floor, trying to decide what to wear to the opening. Should he look like someone from HGTV? TheProperty Brothers? Flannel shirt? Jeans? Blazer? Clearly, the enormity of their new venture was in his face, and face it he would. For the first time in his life, he understood why women get anxious about what to wear for events. He laughed at himself.Take it easy, buddy. It’s going to be great.He finally opted for a pair of nice jeans, an oxford shirt, and a blue cashmere blazer. Neat, casual, approachable.
* * *
Luna was about to incorporate several skills in her and her brother’s new endeavor. She promised her colleagues at the Children’s Center she would always make herself available if they needed her, and she made sure Marshal Gaines knew of her plans. At least some of them.
Luna had been reluctant to tell Ellie Stillwell of her extracurricular activities and decided to keep it to herself until it was absolutely necessary to bring it up for discussion. She did not advertise or promote her psychic gift. She would only take referrals from former or existing clients. As much as Cullen was her protector, she, too, wanted to protect Cullen from any ridicule or embarrassment due to her penchant for the paranormal. Not that it was a huge secret, but Luna felt it was in Cullen’s best interest if she didn’t shove it in every passerby’s face.
Inside the Namaste Café, there were four small café tables and a wall of design and art books. A counter held baked goods supplied by the Flakey Tart, which also had a shop at the arts center. Among the pastries, scones, and muffins, there was a selection of three blends of coffee and an assortment of teas. Aside from being Luna’s part of the overall family operation, it would provide a small income stream, not just a place to hang out and eat great flaky delights with a robust cup of freshly roasted coffee. A large easel with a sketch pad sat in one corner. It was a divination device she would surreptitiously use when she was doing a reading. It was almost as if she were doing automatic writing, but in her case it was automatic drawing.
Her level of excitement was reaching enormous heights. It was a new day and a new beginning. The grand opening for the art center was that evening. Several weeks ago, she had sent Gaines an invitation, saying, “In case you’re in the neighborhood,” which had become a playful joke between them. Even though she hadn’t heard back, she was hoping for the best.
Luna dug through her chest of favorite kitschy outfits and decided to tame it down for the evening. Well, not too much. Sliding her long dresses across the closet pole, she discovered a long, pale yellow lace dress that flared at the hem. She could still twirl if she wanted, something she was known to do when leaving the room, or when she was spot-on with something she had predicted. It had long, lace-belled sleeves that matched the flow of the skirt perfectly.
She peered into the mirror, scrutinizing every inch of her face. First thing was to ditch the granny glasses and opt for the contact lenses she rarely wore. On a normal day, she wore a lightweight foundation to cover some of her freckles, a bit of blush, and a smear of lip gloss. That night, she wanted to be a bit more radiant, just in case. Just in case Marshal Gaines made an appearance, she was going full-on makeup makeover. Not too freakish, but a lot more glam. Luna drew on her creativity and applied each stroke as if she were creating a work of art. The amber eye shadow made her hazel eyes stand out, and the shimmery copper eyeliner framed them beautifully. A coral-bronze blush enhanced her cheekbones, and the neutral lipstick was a nice contrast to her dazzling eyes.
Now for the hair. Earlier, she had noticed that it didn’t look healthy. She hadn’t been paying much attention to it over the past few weeks as they were getting ready for the grand opening. It was time for drastic measures. Well, maybe not too drastic.
Luna darted into the other bedroom, which served as her yoga retreat, sewing room, and art studio. She dug out a pair of shears and chopped three inches off the bottom. “Much better.” Now it was only three inches below her shoulders but had movement and looked lush. She ran a brush through her waves and decided on a bohemian-style updo with a side braid. One side of her hair was swooped over the top into a side braid at the base of her neck with a small ribbon, then allowed to flow freely at the bottom. A few wisps on each side. Perfect. She still looked respectable yet a bit eccentric. She popped on metallic ballet-slipper-style shoes. She took a spin in front of the mirror. “Wow. Who knew I could look this good?” She chuckled out loud. Now she really,reallyhoped Marshal Christopher Gaines would be able to get a good look at her.
Chapter Four
Boston, Massachusetts
