The Photographer II Page 4

  Scott was waiting for her outside her house on the morning that TV and radio newscasts announced Belle’s return. He hadn’t called her to see if coming by was all right, but the minute Vicki saw him she realized it was, that she wanted him there.

  They had spent a lot of their free time together the last two weeks, mostly getting acquainted. Sometimes they took long bike rides up into the mountains. Many times they were at The Pit, surrounded by other kids, but still they were together.

  “Hi.” Scott grinned when she hurried out her front door, her green prom dress in a cleaner bag hanging over her arm. She stopped suddenly, dropping it, when she saw him seated on the porch swing.

  A sudden rush of emotion overwhelmed her. “Hi.” With no warning, tears ran down her cheeks and spilled off her chin.

  “Hey, I didn’t mean to make you cry. Am I that frightening?”

  “On the contrary.” She buried her face in his shirt, smelling his fresh, clean odor, taking from his strength.

  He put his arms around her, holding her extra tight. They stood, letting the world go on without them for a few seconds.

  “I don’t think I’m going to let you out of my sight ever again,” he whispered, tickling her ear.

  “Now that would be silly, not to mention awkward, don’t you think?”

  “I don’t want to think about anything but you, Vicki. That’s all I’ve been able to think about for two weeks. My grades are suffering, I can’t eat, I can’t sleep.”

  “Classic symptoms, huh?” She felt the same way, but some little devil in her made her keep her feelings secret. “I suppose you’re already spending the money that’s in the going-steady-with-Vicki pool?”

  “Now would I do that? Is that what you think of me?” He pushed her away, holding her at arm’s length.

  “I’m not sure what to think of you, Scott Lawrence.” She laughed, really laughed for the first time in weeks, and it felt good. She wished she could share this moment with SueAnne, SueAnne, who couldn’t believe Vicki had reached seventeen without falling in love. The tears started spilling over again.

  Gently, Scott kissed her wet cheeks, then pulled her close for a real kiss, their first.

  She caught her breath and laughed again. “Hey, we’re going to be the gossip item for this week if we don’t get off my front porch. We’re also going to be late for school.” She grabbed the dress, forgetting about wrinkling it.

  “Who cares?” Scott took her hand, and they ran down the steps to his mother’s car. “Mom is going to try to take a day off, or work at home. There’s a lot of pressure on her.”

  “She would take today off.” Vicki wished she could sit right beside Scott, but she scooted over and buckled her seat belt. “I have to get my senior picture made after school. I’ve put it off as long as possible. I hate having a photo taken.”

  “Yeah, you’ll break the camera for sure. I may give the annual a baby picture. We did that at home a lot.”

  “That’s a fun idea. I’m working on the annual. Maybe we’ll have all the seniors come up with baby pictures. It could be a matching game. Which of these bouncing babies crunches football rivals now? Which ugly duckling turned into a swan? Hey, I love it. I’m going to get to work on that idea today. Why don’t you come work on the annual staff? We could use help.”

  “And I could keep my eye on you. It’s a deal.”

  “You’re serious, aren’t you? About watching after me?” She didn’t let Scott answer. “That’s sweet, but I can take care of myself, Scott. Especially when I get angry. I’m mad about SueAnne and Belle, really mad.”

  “The whole town is going to be angry today, Vicki, but what good does that do?”

  “I don’t know, but I need to do something about it. I’ve never been one to sit around and watch.” She knew Scott was staring at her, but she looked out the window.

  One of the reasons she had never agreed to go steady with one guy, besides not liking any one guy that much, was that she was incredibly independent. She didn’t want some guy thinking he owned her. And, as much as she cared for Scott now, she had no plan to let him take care of her.

  “What can you do? Forget that idea. Promise me you won’t go snooping around town, Vicki. That’s my mother’s job.”

  “You can pick me up at Altman’s Photography Studio at five, Scott. If you want to. And call your mom and tell her not to worry about dinner. You can have dinner at my house tonight. My mother wants to meet you.”

  “Uh-oh.” Scott grinned. “This sounds serious.”

  “She’s just looking after me, too. You’re the new guy in town, remember, an unknown factor. She’s known every other boy since grade school. She’s set their broken arms and made sure they knew how babies are made.”

  In addition to her county health job, Vicki’s mother was nurse to the only doctor in Sparksville. People might go to Little Rock or Fort Smith for really serious surgery or illness, but Mrs. Valentine and Dr. Dillard took care of every other medical need.

  “Some of the county women have Mom come to their houses. She’s also a licensed midwife.”

  “It’s going to take me a long time to get used to a small town,” Scott admitted. “But people are a lot friendlier.”

  “And closer. Something like these murders hurts all of us. It’s like we’re a big family, and this is happening to our kinfolk.”

  “Do I have to ask the whole town if I can fall in love with you?” Scott jumped out of the car and caught up with her.

  “Silly.” She dashed up the steps of the school, realizing they were late, and fled down the opposite hall to her locker.

  After school, she grabbed her dress and hurried down Main Street to Altman’s Photography Studio. This was something to get over with, like going to the dentist. She was glad, however, that she didn’t have to go all the way to Little Rock for good photos. Every girl who’d been to the studio raved about Altman’s work. They said this year’s senior photos were going to be magnificent. Pretty strong praise.

  A pretty little girl, around three years old, and her mother were leaving when Vicki entered the shop. The mother spoke to Vicki.

  “You’re going to love him. He was incredible with Sara.” The mother and the daughter smiled identical smiles at Vicki. “He said I was as pretty as a teenager myself, and that I should have my photo taken.” The woman wasn’t that pretty until she smiled. Amazing what a smile could do for a plain face.

  While she waited, Vicki picked up a framed snapshot, obviously not a recent picture. It was of a boy with an incredibly beautiful woman. Was it Altman as a child?

  “Vicki Valentine?” The photographer peeked through some gray curtains. “Put that down, please. You brought your dress? Good. Need a place to change clothes? Go through there.”

  Vicki set the photo back on his desk. Why had he left it out if he didn’t want people looking at it? Vicki thought it was funny that Mr. Altman didn’t have a receptionist. He’d been in town all summer, and surely he needed someone to answer the phone and book appointments. She could use an after-school job. Maybe she’d mention she was available before someone else thought of it.

  She wasn’t sure she wanted to work for him, though. His manner was businesslike, but sharpedged. When she appeared in her pastel green prom dress, and waited for him to adjust his camera, she studied the young man.

  He wasn’t much older than her or Scott, she guessed, but he looked different. He didn’t look like a teenager.

  Stocky in build, he was probably about five nine. His hair was kinky, much like a light brown Brillo pad. Little wire glasses framed his face, and he kept pushing them back into place. There was certainly nothing impressive about his looks, but he did have a presence, an intense energy about him, that drew Vicki in.

  Looking at her at last, he smiled a tiny smile. “Another lovely prom dress. My studio has been a rainbow of color all summer long.”

  He was trying to put her at ease. Should she tell him it was impossible? She squirmed, try
ing to find a comfortable pose. What to do with her hands? They seemed to grow larger and larger, flopped in her lap like dead fish. She shook them at her side and started over again.

  He laughed. “Here, let me help. You don’t like having your photo taken, do you?”

  “Is it that obvious?”

  “Yes. It doesn’t hurt, you know.”

  “I know it doesn’t hurt.” She hoped he wasn’t going to treat her like the three-year-old ahead of her. “I—I just feel silly, sitting here smiling.”

  He posed her hands in her lap and stepped back to look her over. She didn’t like his touching her. There was something about him, his touch—Condescending? Patronizing? Something negative, something that put her off.

  His aura—her Aunt Virginia claimed to see auras—what would Ginny see here? There was a strange energy surrounding this man that Vicki was aware of immediately. It was almost as if she could reach out and touch it, if you could touch energy. Maybe this was something typical of incredibly creative people. He was certainly that. Every photo in his window, in the reception room, was a work of art. He had a special ability to bring out a person’s personality even in the flat dimension.

  Maybe if she told him that, talked to him, it would help her relax. “Your work is the best I’ve ever seen, Mr. Altman.”

  “Why don’t you call me David? You make me feel like an old man.”

  “David—you’re very talented. What made you come to such a small town to work? I would have thought that Little Rock—”

  “Oh, I stopped there. I don’t like cities. I stopped here for lunch one day, and there was something about the town—Well, why do you like living here?”

  She hadn’t said she liked living here, but she did. She might even come back and teach here after she got her degree.

  “This will sound corny,” she answered, “but it seems more like America here. I haven’t been to very many cities, but they all seem just alike.”

  “City people would call you on that idea, but I know what you mean, and it’s not at all corny. Small towns are the heart and soul of America.”

  She liked that idea. She took a deep breath and managed to like him a little, to relax a little.

  “Who’s the snapshot of, the one in the reception room? You? And your mother? She’s beautiful.”

  His mouth formed a grim line. “She was—once.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Is she dead?” She shouldn’t pry—it was obvious he didn’t want to talk about it—but she was curious.

  “Yes.” He closed the subject.

  After snapping several pictures, he rearranged her hands, turned her body to the side, posed her chin on her hands, leaning on a painted box that was part of his props.

  When he started to work hard, he began to hum a tune that was almost familiar to her. Finally she asked.

  “What song are you humming? I keep thinking I should know it.” She smiled.

  “Oh, was I humming?” The little smile. “Sometimes I don’t even know it. It’s a bad habit I have.”

  “Not a bad habit, surely. A lot of people do that.”

  “I’ll stop. And I don’t know what tune it was. Sorry.”

  He worked silently for about fifteen minutes, shooting two more rolls of film, when he made the comment she would remember above all the rest. And he sure didn’t talk a lot.

  “You have a lovely smile, but it’s too big for your face.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Had she heard him right? She sat up straight and stiffened her whole body.

  “Don’t take it so personally. I’ve seen a lot of pretty faces, you know. You’re a lovely girl, but not quite beautiful.”

  “Well, I’m sorry.” She felt a fire sweep over her. She kept it in control, but it had taken her years to learn to handle her ready temper.

  “There, your energy is back. You were wilting. I thought you’d take offense at that remark, even if it is true.” He grinned and snapped a few photos of her gritting her teeth and taking deep breaths.

  “If you’re trying to make me angry, Mr. Altman, it doesn’t take much.” It was all she could do not to stomp out of the room.

  “I suspected that. I read people fairly easily, you know.”

  “I didn’t know, but I’d guess that was part of your talent.”

  “Yes, I like a girl to look natural.” His gray eyes sparkled, teasing her.

  “Are we almost finished?” She didn’t think she could sit there one second longer.

  “Yes. All done. But if these don’t come out well, I’ll ask you to return. At no charge for another sitting, of course. It will be my fault if they aren’t lovely.”

  She didn’t ever want to come back here. She felt humiliated and embarrassed. This man might be good at his work, but he was certainly a dud at social graces. How could SueAnne have enjoyed coming in here again and again? He’d made her come back three times before he was satisfied. She’d laughed and said she thought he just enjoyed looking at her.

  Stomping back to the dressing room, Vicki didn’t bother hiding her anger. What an egotistical man! She was glad this was over. Maybe she’d send her mother in here to choose the best poses. She didn’t want to have anything else to do with David Altman.

  With the dress wadded under her arm, she started through the reception room. A huge gold-framed photo blocked her escape route. It sat on an easel, filling the room. Had it been there before? She didn’t think so. How could she have missed it when she came in?

  Belle La Fouche, looking even lovelier than she had in real life, smiled at Vicki. And David Altman, perched on a stool behind the reception desk, smiled at her too.

  “Take this down!” she screamed. “Don’t you know what happened this morning? How could you do this? Put it away, give it to her parents, but don’t display it here now!”

  He laughed, actually laughed at her.

  The man had absolutely no respect, no hint of proper behavior. Or could he not have heard the news? Could he not know that Belle had been found dead that very morning? In this same dress?

  Eyes blurring, Vicki stepped around the portrait and fled the building. Scott, please be outside waiting for me. Please, Scott, be here for me. I need you to hold me tight. To assure me that this nightmare will go away.

  Chapter 7

  Scott saw her stumble out of the Photography Studio, almost fall, catch herself, then look from side to side frantically.

  “Hey, I’m here.” He ran up beside her. “I didn’t realize you cared so much.” He wasn’t sure whether to tease her or not, but she was in a mood that was new to him. He already knew that Vicki Valentine was not your ordinary, always-in-the-same-mood person. But he figured he had no idea of the range and variety of her moods. It might take years to find out. He was willing to devote that time, but the way she was acting right now scared him.

  “Oh, Scott.” She threw herself into his arms. “Thank you for coming. I was afraid you wouldn’t be here and I—”

  Maybe she realized she wasn’t being the independent person she prided herself on being.

  “Well, I’m probably being silly, but I don’t like that man.” She stiffened her body, backing off from him. “I am being silly. I’m sorry.”

  “What happened in there, Vicki? I don’t think I like the man either, and I haven’t even met him. I saw him at SueAnne’s funeral, and something about him put me off. It doesn’t matter, does it? You don’t have to like him. You just had to have a photo taken. It’s over and done with.”

  “I—I—” She sighed, shivered, obviously trying to get control of her emotions. Then she started to laugh, not as if something was funny, but at herself. “He said I wasn’t beautiful.” Shaking out the dress, she slipped it into the bag she had wadded up with it.

  Scott wasn’t sure what to say next. This was dangerous ground, but surely she misunderstood what David Altman had said. Nobody in a business like his told women they weren’t beautiful. Scott thought Vicki was the most gorgeous girl he’d ever set eye
s on, but then, he went more for personality than looks. Not that he’d ever dated anyone like Belle La Fouche, but he had known girls that looked like she did. Quite often they were self-centered and boring, ditzy airheads.

  Vicki had a smile that surrounded a person with sunshine, that said, you’re special or I wouldn’t smile at you this way. When she stopped fooling with the dress and looked up at him, he said the first thing that came to his mind.

  “He’s nuts, Vicki. I think you’re the most incredible girl I’ve ever known.”

  “But not beautiful.” She turned and started toward the car.

  “Hey,” Scott practically ran after her, grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. “You’re beautiful and witty and you have sixteen times the personality of Julia Roberts, and—”

  Vicki stopped his list with a kiss, a real kiss that left him breathless and ready to devote his whole life to convincing this woman that she was all he needed, forget anyone else.

  “I can’t believe I’m so shook up I’m practically begging you for compliments. Get me out of here, will you?” She turned and slipped into his dad’s vintage Volvo, tossing her dress into the back seat.

  By the time Scott had gotten into the driver’s seat, she had buckled her seat belt, but was staring out the window.

  “Did he actually say, ‘You are not beautiful, Vicki Valentine’? In those words?”

  “He actually did.” She made a funny face at Scott.

  He laughed. “He must be independently wealthy to risk running off customers like that.”

  “Would anyone go anyplace else? This man has an ego the size of the whole state, and the problem is, he is good. His portraits are lovely.” She pulled out a wadded handkerchief and pressed it to her lips. “Scott, he has a photo of Belle in there that makes her look like she just stepped off the silver screen after winning the Civil War all by herself. I didn’t see it when I went in, but he must not know she’s—she’s dead, or he wouldn’t display it so brashly. Surely he has some speck of decency. It’s the same size of SueAnne’s, and just as lovely. It’s almost like—like a memorial.”