A voice joined in from the doorway. ‘I wasn’t sure you’d sell it to me,’ Mac said. He took another step so that he could shut the door behind him. ‘I wanted it because—’

‘Oh, that photo,’ Grady chimed in, in the voice of one for whom light had only just dawned. He cast around until his gaze fell on a framed photo on the windowsill. He picked it up and showed it to Laurel. It showed two little boys, darker than the two in her painting, but the smaller one was touching the older one’s face with exactly the same trusting innocence. ‘Mum had this picture of us framed. I’d forgotten about it.’

She stared, fascinated that Mac Cassidy would pay so much for a painting just because of its similarity to an old photo.

Mac spoke again. ‘I wanted the painting because it reminds me of something very precious. My brother. Selina Sullivan is a friend of a colleague and acquired it from you as a favour. She was full of praise for your work. Told me I’d made a shrewd buy. She thinks it’ll gain value.’

Laurel was completely at sea. The entire conversation was surreal. The situation, too – standing in Mac Cassidy’s study, talking about a painting he’d wanted so much he’d involved a third party to get it.

He sighed and moved past them to the desk, flopping down in his big chair as if it was somewhere he spent a lot of time. He directed his gaze to Laurel. ‘You don’t want my apology, so I won’t try again but I am going to say one thing. At school, we tell kids that humans have the ability to change. I know I’ve changed, and I’ve made certain never to get involved in anything like that again.’

She stared at him, the man who’d been anathema to her for so long.

At her lack of response he said, ‘Don’t leave the village without Grady. I’ll go, instead.’

‘What?’ whispered Grady. His fingers tightened painfully on Laurel’s.