“Maybe I like the art too much,” she cut in. “I don’t want to have to dream up nonsense about it.”

“Is that how you see what we do here? Nonsense?”

Maddy had once said, about a wall panel I wrote: “I don’t understand a word of this. Sorry, Mom. Not one single word.” I had taken her to too many Fun Days at museums. It had been a great relief to me when she started drawing again.

“Can’t you let people think for themselves?” asked Alison.

“Like the man with the backpack?”

“What was he doing here, anyway?”

“Everyone has a right to look at art.”

She snorted. “Someone like that isn’t capable of looking at art.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.”

“All they do is read the labels. Maybe if the words weren’t there, they might have to actually look at the art for more than two seconds.” She crossed her arms again. “You should have to pass a test before you’re allowed in here.”

“Oh yeah?” I smiled. “And what would you put on the test?”

“What about: ‘If you could own any work in the collection, which one would you choose and why? Anyone who mentions how it would look over their sofa is banned for life.’ ” Alison gave a hoarse laugh. “We’d have the place to ourselves.” Slyly she added, “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

•  •  •

I let two weeks go by before raising the London idea again. To my surprise, Claire had already looked into dates and finances and found someone to cover for my absence. She’d contacted a British colleague I might be able to stay with to keep our costs down.

“It’s a good moment, as you say. No telling what might come from something like this. And it will do you good to get away.”

“You can say that again.” I gave her a hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, Claire!” Stepping back, I said casually, “I was wondering if Alison Ward could come with me.”

“Alison?”

“She’s had a rocky time recently.”

“Have you followed up that complaint?”

“This guy threatened her with a gun, believe it or not. She apologized. What I realized is that she knows a great deal about art. Not the obvious choice, I know.”

“Don’t you think an opportunity like this should go to someone more . . .”

“Presentable?”

“Experienced. Alison’s an attendant. She’s very young.”

“She’s planning to do an MA in museum studies. At Johns Hopkins.” When had I become so adept at improvisation?

“Oh, I see.”

“It could be a good way,” I said, “of showing that we value our staff at every level.”