“Sorry I didn’t clean up,” the easy voice was saying. Lucy liked its distinctive twang with the soft intonation. “I didn’t get back until late. The cleaner will be by on Friday. Simon, there’s coffee in the percolator, cream in the fridge. Will you help yourself while I get the package? It’s in the strong room at the back.” Roland turned to go, but was caught by the overwhelmed look on Lucy’s face. “This used to be the offices for the warehouse below. Do you want to come see?”

He led her through a door and down a short hall, at the end of which was an 1890s walk-in safe, with large brass handles and the maker’s name, Steiner and Sons, inscribed in gold across the two doors. Lucy thought she’d entered another world as Roland pulled down on the handles and jerked the steel doors toward him. Inside was a small shelved room.

“Never lock it.” He looked her right in the eye, deciding something, she thought. “The key was gone when I took over the building, but it’s wonderful, isn’t it?”

Lucy looked at him for a moment, and felt an overpowering emotion. He was a stranger, and she wanted to hug him. “You really liked him, didn’t you?”

“Will?” His nod said “yes” in a very physical, emotional way.

“What was he like?” she asked, looking at him attentively. “It’s not something I can ask Alex, even now.”

Roland understood, and smiled at her. “That’s kind of hard to say. He was different from a lot of the people we work with. He’d get an idea in his head and off he’d go. No commission, just something he wanted to do. Then he’d make a hell of a stink when no one wanted to buy the piece.” He roared a laugh at Lucy. “Then—maybe a year later—someone would ask Pearl, did we have anything on someone-or-other? Sure enough it would be what Will had done, way back when. Complete story in pictures, sometimes a few words too. People and details everyone suddenly wanted, but no one could get there in that moment. Ahead of the market, he was. Yes, I liked him.”

Roland had reached an outsized packet on one of the shelves, and now handed it to Lucy. “I think—this is for you?” They exchanged a glance that seemed to Lucy to be full of meaning; yet beside her and Alex, and the people immediately connected with her transplant, not a soul knew her secret. Roland had some quality, as Simon had intimated: and it both thrilled and terrified her. She almost wanted to tell him, but he smiled at her, and shook his head strangely. “If you know Alex well, Lucy, then you know Will. Let’s find Simon.” And they retreated from the tiny space, Lucy lost in thought.