Chapter 10 - The Gallery
Our private collection was not a museum.
But it included works valuable enough to require environmental controls, insurance riders, condition reports, and provenance files.
My late first wife loved collecting.
After her death, I continued partly because Lily enjoyed walking through the gallery and inventing ridiculous names for abstract paintings.
“Angry Spaghetti.”
“Blue Weather.”
“Grandpa Square.”
I corrected her exactly zero times.
Nora took more interest after we married.
She reorganized cataloging.
Hired Adrian for several projects.
I considered that helpful.
Then investigators brought in an independent conservator.
She examined three paintings Adrian had handled during the dates surrounding my illnesses.
The first looked right.
The second raised questions.
The third made her go silent.
“What?”
She leaned closer.
Then:
“I need laboratory analysis before saying anything definitive.”
May you like
I knew enough to understand.
Something was wrong.
