“Come to the MoMA with me after work. I want to show you one of Violet’s paintings.”

“I’ve seen my grandmother’s paintings.” Including the ones at the MoMA. Multiple times.

“I want you to really look.”

“I have.”

“You didn’t look hard enough.”

“How do you know?”

“We’re having this conversation.”

“We could just look on my laptop.”

“It’s not the same.” She flashed impatience at me, a look that said she was disappointed she had to explain.

“All right.” Every minute I wasn’t thinking about work, I was thinking about Violet. Her art would make me think about her life instead of her death. “But I need another hour.”

“I’ll meet you there.”

“I’ll call you when I leave.”

She nodded and walked away.

“But I’m not going to be naked in public!”

I settled back into work and read through the weekly reports and schedules at Ludington’s. Then I started researching potential investors.

“It’s hard to find venture capital,” I told Lai Fa. “Angel investors don’t just put themselves out there. They don’t want to be bombarded twenty-four seven by people begging for money.”

It took me the full hour to scrounge up a single name. I needed a break.

I nestled Lai Fa on the folded blanket in the bathtub to keep her safe. I topped off her food and water, told her she was on her own for a while and to go wild, then texted Strena that I was on my way.

I was in the Uber when Bram called again. “I had an idea. Instead of looking for one investor to put in a million dollars into Ludington’s, you could look for ten people at a hundred thousand each. Why don’t you pitch to me?”

“Thank you, but no.”

“Is everything all right?”

“I’m on my way somewhere.”

“Did you ever call my cousin?”

I hadn’t, but I should, so I did, after I hung up with Bram.

I told Sergei Prokhorov, antique shop owner, that Bram sent me, and what I had in my basement.

“When would be a good time for me to stop by for a visit?” Sergei asked. “Tomorrow morning?”

“That would be great.”

“I hope I’ll be able to help.”

“I hope you like stuffed bears.”

We ended the call on a laugh. His was amused, mine was desperate.

At the MoMA, Strena led me straight to a painting some people nicknamed Lady Godiva because it depicted a naked woman on horseback. Excalibur. “What do you think?”

“Sure brushstrokes, no hesitation, no unnecessary ornamentation—an artist in her full power. Energy, movement, life.” Violet’s art was as different as possible from the row of still lifes by a different artist on the next wall.