Maribeth had watched as Eve slipped away from the larger group and joined Viktor. She had seen the way Eve leaned in toward him, how she had spoken to him, and the way she had recoiled at whatever his rejoinder was.
She wondered, as Eve bolted away and ran up the street, whether she should go after her. She decided not. What, after all, could she say?
Eve, she observed, was heading toward her hosts’ home. For Eve’s sake, Maribeth hoped the Robesons were all out for the day. She checked with the hotel’s food service to make sure box lunches were available and then she returned to the office the Conservancy had loaned to Jill and her for the duration of the Plein Air Festival. She rearranged the transportation schedule.
Ten minutes later, as she had begun work on the wet-paint auction lis
