“I was going to say she—Lisa Williams—sounded…” She seemed to hunt for a word. “She sounded frantic about you not being able to work on the mural. Something about going against her father’s will, and—”

“I love it, Rebecca,” I interrupted her. “I love what I’m doing with the mural. Restoring it. It’s challenging, and when you see what you’ve done, and you see a bit of the picture go back to the way Anna—the artist—intended … It’s so rewarding.”

“How will you be able to work with your ankle like this?” Rebecca pointed toward the walking boot.

“I don’t know, but I’ll find a way,” I said. “Seriously, I will. My ankle is going to heal one way or another. Maybe it’ll take a week longer if I don’t keep it elevated every minute, but I don’t care. It’ll heal eventually. I cannot lose this job!”

Rebecca hesitated, looking at the papers on her desk. “I believe you,” she said. “I guess you just need to convince Lisa you can keep at it.” She looked up at me. “And how about an AA meeting tonight?”

“Fine,” I said, shoulders slumping. I felt overwhelmed. I needed sleep tonight more than I needed a meeting, but I would agree to anything at that moment to be able to get back to work and keep Lisa happy. “Can I go now?” I asked, wincing as I got to my feet.

She nodded. Gave me a half smile. “No more bars, all right?”

“No more bars,” I agreed, and I half hopped, half walked out of the room.

I’d taken an Uber to Rebecca’s office and now I called another to drive me to the gallery. I wouldn’t be walking anywhere for a while. When I arrived at the gallery, Oliver, Adam, and Wyatt were in the foyer, crouched on the floor as they examined a cracked tile near the folding table, and it was clear to me that Adam and Wyatt knew what had happened. The smell of the white wall paint that was being used throughout the gallery seared my nostrils.

“Here she is!” Adam looked up from the floor. “How’re you doin’? Oliver said you spent the night in the ER.”

“I’m fine,” I said, as I hobbled over to the mural. Damn, my ankle hurt! I could barely read the labels on my paint bottles for the pain.

“Looks like you haven’t slept in a week,” Wyatt said.

Great, I thought.

“How’re you going to climb the ladder with that boot on?” Adam asked.

“Leave her alone, guys.” Oliver got to his feet with the broken tile in his hands. “Let’s focus on replacing this tile, all right?” He handed the pieces to Wyatt, then walked over to me and spoke to me in a whisper. “How’re you doing?”