“I think just things related to the town,” Lisa said. “To Edenton. Most of the old murals were like that. We’ll see it soon enough, anyway.” She didn’t sound all that invested in the mural, and I guessed it was just a means to an end for her. Something she had to take care of to get the gallery up and running.

“So … you said there would be other artists’ work displayed in the gallery?” I asked.

Lisa nodded. “There’ll be a permanent collection of my father’s work, then a room for a few other well-known artists he had in his collection, many of them his good friends. That will change every few months. Then a rotating display of the work of the young artists he’s helped over the years and that work will be for sale.” Her voice had grown tight. “There’s just too much to be done before we can open the doors.”

“Is this your background, too?” I asked. “Art?” Lisa didn’t strike me as an artist. She looked more like the patron of an artist, if anything. Someone who could afford the awesomely tailored suit she was wearing and the diamond tennis bracelet that glittered at her wrist.

“I’m a Realtor,” she said. “I have no artistic talent … or interest … whatsoever, except with regard to the historical architecture of the houses I sell.”

“Oh,” I said. “Why did Jesse Williams—I mean, your father—put you in charge of the gallery, then?”

Lisa didn’t answer right away and I thought I might have stepped over a line with the question. But she finally spoke. “I’m his only child, so I’m it.” She let out a sigh. “I knew the gallery was in the works when he died, of course, but I had no idea he was going to dump it all in my lap.” She glanced at me. “Don’t get me wrong,” she said. “I loved my father—I adored him—and I want to do this for him, but he gave me an impossible deadline and threw you into the mix…” She shook her head. “I still have my real estate business to run. I have clients to deal with. This is a busy time of year for me.”

“He must’ve thought you could pull it off,” I said.

Lisa sighed again. Then she reached for the radio, pressed a few buttons, and a podcast began to play. Something about mortgages, and I guessed we were done with our conversation, such as it was.