Catherine noticed Rafael standing with Tina, and he still had a long roll of paper in his hand. “Do you want to put your entry up on the board?” she called to him.
“No, I don’t want to spoil it for everyone else. I’ll wait until you’ve seen the others,” he replied.
Catherine didn’t care for his confident smirk but nodded and walked down to the far end of the bulletin board where she stole a quick glance at Luke. He was looking her way with an equally appreciative expression, and certain the whole room must know they were lovers, she hurriedly focused her attention on the artwork.
Because she’d observed the drawings as they had progressed during the week, there were no real surprises. Several of the kids had complained they just couldn’t get what was in their imagination down on paper, but she’d encouraged them to keep trying. Now, looking at their completed drawings, she was delighted that even the most frustrated of the teenagers had wanted to display their work.
She was also impressed by the incredible variety to the angels posted along the wall. Some possessed a whimsical charm, while others, like Tina Stassy’s, were drawn in a darker, more impressionist style. “I’d like to choose them all,” she whispered as her path crossed Dave’s.
“We could make a collage,” Dave replied.
Catherine rather liked that idea, but she stood for a long moment in front of Tina’s design. The drawing itself wasn’t as polished as some, but the idea of a homeless angel and cat scrounging through trash was infinitely appealing.
“What do you think?” she asked Luke as he stepped around her.
“I think we might choose several of the designs and have a set of greeting cards made. The volunteers would all buy them, and it might be a good publicity tool.”
“That’s a wonderful idea,” Catherine exclaimed. “It’ll be so much easier to select several winners rather than one.”
“Are you finished yet?” Rafael called to them. “I don’t want an unfair advantage, but if you’ve seen all the other drawings, then you ought to take a look at mine.”
“Come on down,” Luke instructed with a wave. “We’re dying to see your work.”
When Rafael chose the center of the board, Catherine had to step back out of his way. She couldn’t help but fear he might have drawn a tasteless orgy rather than an angelic scene, but when he unrolled his artwork, she was absolutely stunned.
His angels were drawn in exquisite detail, and not only did he possess an impressive knowledge of anatomy, he’d also dressed his heavenly creatures in pastel robes whose hems were ruffled by a graceful breeze. Alone, in pairs, and groups of threes, the angels were climbing up the front of a Victorian house easily recognizable as Toby McClure’s. Not merely a hazy background, the historic structure was rendered with a draftsman’s skill.
That would have been enough to win the contest right there, but Rafael had also given each angel the beautifully expressive face of one of his friends.
The drawing brought tears to Catherine’s eyes, but Dave had an entirely different reaction. “I think we ought to get Toby over here right now,” he stressed to Luke.
The teenagers had responded with hushed amazement, but Luke just shrugged. “Go on and call Toby. I’d value his opinion, but I don’t for a minute believe this is your work, Rafael.”
Dumbfounded, Catherine shook her head in disbelief. On more than one occasion, Luke had shocked her by going off on an absurd tangent, but this was simply too much. “Then whose work is it?” she asked.
“I have no idea,” Luke replied, “but did you see Rafael draw even a corner of this?”
“No, I haven’t seen him all week,” Catherine admitted, “but that doesn’t mean the drawing isn’t his.”
“I don’t believe it,” Rafael swore. “You didn’t accuse anyone else of stealing someone else’s work, but you don’t believe I’m capable of turning out anything good?”
Catherine was as disgusted as Rafael. “Look at the angels’ faces,” she implored. Stepping close, she recognized Violet’s shyly averted gaze in an angel scaling the porch roof. “This was obviously drawn by someone who knew the kids who come here. Why do you doubt it was Rafael?”
“It might just be a hunch, but I do,” Luke stated calmly. “Here’s Toby, he’s a professional artist. Let’s see what he has to say.”
Catherine turned toward the door, but in jeans and a black long-sleeved turtleneck jersey, none of the flamboyant artist’s tattoos was visible. He had pulled his long curls back into a ponytail and looked quite respectable. Then he winked at her, and she knew, regardless of his more conservative attire, he was the same sly flirt she’d met.
Toby scanned the long bulletin board, then paused to study Rafael’s drawing and let out a long, low whistle. “Who did this?” he asked.
“I did,” Rafael almost shouted. “I’m Rafael Reynoso.”
Toby glanced over his shoulder. “Toby McClure. Where have you studied?”
Rafael appeared flustered by the question. “Nowhere. I just like to draw.”
Toby caught Luke’s eye. “Dave said you needed an artist’s opinion, but any man off the street would recognize this much talent. If you want a scholarship to Art Center, kid, we could probably get you one by this afternoon. Do you have a portfolio?”
“What’s that?” Rafael asked.