“I’m certain of it.” I didn’t look at him. “I think it’s hard for you to imagine, because you probably had great parents and you’re a great parent yourself. But mine didn’t give a shit about me. And I don’t give a shit about them.” I’d reached the top of the D in “Dale,” and held the brush away from the canvas. I was getting upset. The last thing I wanted to do was screw up Anna’s golden-hued signature. I looked at Oliver. “It’s a pretty crappy feeling, knowing that no one in the world has ever loved you,” I said. “It makes you feel worthless.” I turned back to the mural, touching my brush carefully to the abraded top of the D. For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Finally, Oliver broke the silence. “You deserved a lot better,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry you didn’t get it.”

“Let’s put on some music,” I said. I wanted to get the conversation off myself.

“Good idea.” Oliver set down his brush. “I’ll get my speaker. We’ll have to fight over whose music we play, though.”

I smiled to myself as he left the foyer. We would listen to his music; I owed him that. He could be home resting up for the opening tomorrow. Instead he was here, helping me. I wanted to make him happy. He was one of the best people I’d ever known.

I went back to work on Anna’s signature while he was gone. There was something wrong with the D in “Dale.” The top of the rounded portion of the letter was discolored and I guessed I hadn’t cleaned it well enough. I’d probably gotten pretty sloppy by the time I’d reached that section of the mural as I cleaned. I still had a bowl of distilled water and a cotton-tipped dowel on the floor near the mural. I picked up the dowel, then began to gingerly touch it to the top of the D. The letter would not come clean, the gold paint blocked not by some sort of grime that wouldn’t budge, but by something else. Paint? Frowning, I leaned back from the mural for a better view. Only then did I understand what I was looking at, and a chill ran up my spine.

Oh my God, I thought to myself, scrambling to my feet. Oh. My. God.

Chapter 62

Chapter 62

I raced from the room, down the curved hallway, and into Oliver’s office where he was unplugging his speaker from the wall. I took the speaker from him and put it back on his desk. “Come with me!” I said, grabbing his hand.

“What are you doing?” He laughed, letting me nearly drag him out of the office and down the hall. In the foyer, I pointed to Anna’s signature.