Page 55 of Marked By Moonlight
“But I’m sure the next guardian of this remarkable masterpiece can be located,” Anastasia went on in a slightly happier tone. “That’s why I contacted Gordon.”
In my imagination, the horse at the top of the tower whinnied in alarm.
Marius tapped me on the shoulder. “Don’t forget about your next appointment.”
There was no other appointment. He was pulling the plug on this, and I couldn’t blame him. But I never wanted to leave. I gazed at the painting, trying to imprint it in my memory forever.
“We still have that cake downstairs,” Anastasia suggested.
Normally, my sweet tooth would make me jump at such an offer, but I’d lost my appetite. The painting was destined to disappear for another generation, only to be seen by a few elites. An elite I didn’t belong to, along with most of the world’s art lovers.
“No thank you,” I said.
Silence fell over the room, and Anastasia looked at me intently.
“Yes?” I asked as politely as I could.
“Aren’t you going to ask to take a photo?”
Ha. If Gen were here, she would be snapping selfies with the painting. But that didn’t feel right somehow.
“No photo can capture what I feel when I look at it,” I said.
That must have been a test of sorts, because Anastasia smiled. “Good girl. However, I insist that you take a photo — although only of one corner, in order to convince Gordon’s expert of its authenticity.”
I considered briefly, then snapped a shot of the lower right corner, showing part of one horse’s legs and chest against a red background. Then I went back to soaking it all in.
It was one of those all-too-fleeting moments I wanted to capture forever, because I might never experience the magic of it again. Like an especially spectacular Maine sunset I’d watched with my father, many years ago, or the first time Marius had truly smiled at me.
He cleared his throat, signaling it was time to go.
“So, I’ll hear from you soon?” Anastasia moved toward the door.
I didn’t follow. I couldn’t. Just another few seconds…
“Yes, but it’s likely to take a few weeks to make the arrangements,” I replied.
“Weeks? How many?” Worry clanged loud and clear in Anastasia’s voice.
Apparently, she was in a rush. Why?
I shrugged. “It’s hard to say, but I can’t imagine it will be less than four weeks. More like six, I suspect.”
“Six weeks?” she cried. “No. It must be sooner.”
Her voice went shrill, revealing a woman accustomed to getting what she wanted, when she wanted.
“I’ll be sure to pass that on to Gordon,” I said.
Another shake of the head, because that wasn’t good enough. “I need it sold by October 28 at the very latest.”
A suspiciously exact deadline. Suspicious enough for me to heed Marius’s insistent gesture to get moving.
I looked at the painting one last time, counting down the seconds on my self-imposed deadline. A huge lump formed in my throat as a thousand emotions rose up, trying to escape.
Anastasia kissed me on both cheeks, urging me to act quickly. Then I turned and marched out the door, leaving that painting — that dream come true — behind me forever.
* * *
