She blinks slowly and takes a breath. “But on the upside, that early diagnosis—it means the drugs work very well. So a job like this, with reasonable hours, downtime, insurance that covers the medication—” She nods to herself, then to Maeve. “You can see that I couldn’t continue painting. Not in any real way, not as my life, my living.” She shifts, pulling up on the blanket, and the movement of her hips makes her wince. “I wish I could say I don’t remember who she was, that Karolina. But I do remember. I still feel her inside me. This was, at least, a way to stay connected to that world,” she says. “Making art is easier when you’re well.”

“Or wealthy,” Maeve says. “Or you don’t have children. Children come with a cost.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

It occurs to Maeve that Karo must feel a certain amount of envy toward the constant parade of working artists who come through the center. More than envy—resentment.

For a moment, she wonders if it could have been Karo who locked Anna out. Anna, famous in her circle, both experimental and political in her way. Almost as quickly, she pushes the idea from her mind: The woman is sick. She’s struggling to toast a hot dog, Maeve.

It couldn’t have been her. In a way, what Karo has done here at the center mirrors Maeve’s own plan. Trapped in a body she doesn’t recognize, she’s chosen to direct others instead.

“How long have the drugs been gone?”

“I took the last dose yesterday. I have a few sleeping pills left—” A sharp intake of breath as Karo reaches down to massage her foot, the arch curving painfully.

“You’ll be glad of them, I expect.”

There’s a brief but noticeable silence, Karo looking at her rather strangely. Then: “I got complacent. My own fault.” Her voice grows stronger, trying to resume her usual brisk pace. “But I’m sure they’ll get a crew up here by tomorrow.”

The day seems to have stretched on forever. Maeve’s eyes are softly burning. She turns to lean on the arm of the couch so that she’s facing Karo rather than the fire.

“You don’t think it’s dangerous, the four of them out there alone?”

“Of course it’s dangerous. The conditions are dangerous. But it’s dangerous to wait too long as well.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“I know exactly what you mean.”

This time the silence is hard-edged. If Karo could easily get up and walk away, she would; Maeve can see it in her.

“She wasn’t wearing shoes,” Maeve says finally. “Anna.”

Karo’s face twitches.