Page 30 of The Children of Eve

“You know how it is,” Triton replied. “Always looking and rarely finding. I don’t recall seeing a message.”

“I didn’t leave one. It was a curiosity call more than anything else. I hear that your plans for divesting yourself of Triton Rarities have accelerated. I was wondering what replacement management structures you might be considering.”

“It’s not just Triton Rarities of which I’ll be divesting myself, though I might hold on to one or two galleries. Will you miss me that much?”

“Better the devil you know.”

Triton sipped his soda water. Madeline had never seen him consume alcohol.

“Are you familiar withKing Lear?”

“I scanned the CliffsNotes in high school,” said Madeline, “so let’s go with yes.”

“When I was taught the play in college, we were told that Lear’s error lay in challenging his three daughters to say which of them loved him more—an old man’s vanity, in other words. But I learned later that a contemporary audience would have blamed him for dividing his kingdom, as a kingdom divided cannot abide. I want to reward the most loyal and long-serving of my staff with a portion of Triton Rarities. I also want to guarantee its continuance—and cosset myself with a comfortable old age—by selling a significant percentage to an outside investor.”

“Have you had expressions of interest?”

“Any number of them. Despite your periodic interventions, I’ve managed to build a solid business, and therefore a saleable one, as long as I agree to remain in an advisory capacity for a year after purchase. The issue going forward is how to continue to combine moral and financial obligations in a way that doesn’t threaten to fracture the company.”

He swirled his soda. Madeline waited. She could see that he had more to say.

“You and I get along, don’t we?” he asked.

“We’ve had our ups and downs, and I feel you’ve occasionally behaved badly. But for the most part, yes, we’ve maintained a civil, even friendly, relationship.”

“Beneficial?”

“I suppose,” said Madeline, “if more for you than for us.”

“I won’t insult you by asking you to keep it between ourselves, but perhaps, down the line, I might run some names by you—from both inside and outside Triton Rarities.”

“To what end?”

“To minimize the risk of friction between this museum and the company that will continue to bear my name—and, by extension, to be sure that the Native American community has the least possible cause for unhappiness with us. I don’t want my legacy, however modest, to be tarnished by acrimony or bad publicity. In fact, I even considered trying to poach you from the museum by offering you the position of CEO.”

Madeline was surprised. She had heard no whispers of this.

“Why didn’t you?”

“Because I knew you’d decline.”

Yet there was to his words an undercurrent that implied otherwise.

“A girl likes to be asked. It’s flattering.”

“The chance hasn’t entirely passed. Any new owner would be delighted to have you on board. Would you be open to joining?”

Madeline gave it a couple of heartbeats before replying.

“No, but thank you for the opportunity to refuse.”

“What if I could assure you that you’d be of greater value Triton Rarities?”

“I told you: I don’t want to be a CEO.”

“What about being a well-paid private conservator?”

“Of?”

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