Anna bristled. “This is completely different,” she said, although his words shook her, ever so slightly. She thought of her mother’s “lively spells,” remembering how she would scour the house from top to bottom or race through the neighborhood with her camera, trotting up strangers’ driveways to take pictures of their gardens. “Really, Jesse. You didn’t know her. I’m nothing like her.”

It annoyed her—perhaps even angered her—that he would mention her mother at all and particularly in that context. Her mother’s manic spells had been like a living, breathing thing, a third being in the house with them. Jesse was completely wrong. Yet as Anna returned to her own work after their conversation, she was aware that her heart was thudding like a drum in her chest.

Chapter 45. Morgan

Chapter 45

MORGAN

July 16, 2018

Five days had passed since I sprained my ankle, and although I still couldn’t walk more than half a block without grinding pain, I barely felt a twinge when I focused on the mural. I was working faster and more confidently now. I understood what I was doing. I knew exactly how to mix the conservation paints with silica to match the sheen in Anna’s oils. I knew how much pressure to apply to my brush to match Anna’s strokes. Only when I came to an unusual abrasion in a delicate area did I need to turn to Oliver for advice.

“You know as much as I do now,” he told me. I knew that was a lie, but it pleased me nevertheless.

Still, there were only three weeks left before the gallery was to open, and I figured I had five weeks’ worth of work left to do. Adam and most of the other workers were now gone, having taken other jobs, but Wyatt stayed behind to hammer molding into place and help Oliver frame any artwork that was coming in unframed.

Late that morning, Lisa blew into the gallery carrying a large flat package wrapped in brown paper and taped together with crisp, yellowed, ancient-looking tape.

“Wait till you see what I stumbled across in my father’s studio closet!” she said, motioning Oliver and me to come close to her at the folding table.

I set down my brush and stood next to Oliver as Lisa untaped the brown paper to reveal a plain white board about three feet by one and a half. She turned the board over and I gasped. In front of us was a full color sketch of the mural.

“Too cool!” Oliver said, grinning. “What a find! You know what this is, Morgan?”

“Other than the obvious?” I asked.

“This is what Anna Dale would have turned in to the Section of Fine Arts to get her commission to move forward with the mural,” he said. “This would have been her first interpretation of what the mural would look like.”