Page 82 of Memories of the Lost

“You’re fired.”

“You’refiringme? That’s a laugh. The whole business will fall apart.”

“I doubt it. There are a few very talented people on staff, but even if it’s true, I can’t be in such a close relationship with someone whobetrayed me so deeply.” He held out his hand. “Give me your phone, please.”

For a long, long beat, Krish stared at him, then handed over the business phone and walked out.

Liam called Yolanda. “Can you come down to my room, please? Do not let Krish into any of our spaces.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Wulfecombe

As she sat on a bench by the ford, admiring the river, Tillie tried to ground herself in her surroundings. She took out a tiny sketchbook from her bag, the little tin of watercolors, and a bleed-proof ink pen, and let herself fall into the easy pleasure of capturing the scene. The trees beginning to leaf out, the slant of sunlight, the children wading happily in what had to be very cold water, their parents on the banks, calling out to them.Don’t get your trousers wet. It’s safe. Walk a little way!

A sense of peace began to creep in, and she took a deep breath. Her previous memory made her feel like she was definitely close to getting the answers she’d been looking for.

Her phone buzzed. She picked it up and saw that it was Liam. He texted:I’ve just had a big fight with Krish. Can I call you?

Yes!

She glanced to each side to make sure no one would be bothered by her conversation, and when the call came through, she said quietly, “Hey. What happened?”

“I think I just fired him.” He sounded bewildered.

“Wow. That’s big.” The sun spilled over the crown of her head, and she was so happy to be here, in this spot, that it was easy to be the encouraging one. “What happened?”

“He’s been interfering in ways that are not okay,” he said. She guessed by the sound of his breath that he was walking. “Just before I left New York, he tried to get a woman to seduce me.”

A rumbling of disquiet sounded in the distance. “That’s a weird thing to do. Why?”

“It’s a long story, but he doesn’t want me to get involved with you.”

“With me in particular?”

“Anyone.” He sighed. “This is not a conversation to have on the phone. I want to see you.”

“What kind of conversation?”

“It’s nothing. Well, it’s something, but it isn’t what—” He broke off. “You don’t have to worry. I promise. Look, I can be on a plane in a few hours, be in New York by morning.” He made a noise. “No, wait. I have to see my family. They’re expecting me, so it’ll have to be Tuesday or so. Can we hold off until then?”

She suddenly realized that she was never going to lie to him. How could she? “Well, here’s the thing. I’m not in New York. I wasn’t going to bother you, but I found out that the painting was done in a little town near the Devon coast.” She took a breath. “So, I’m ... uh ... in England.”

“What? You’re here? In England?”

“I didn’t want you to think I was chasing you or something, so I thought I’d just deal with this, see what I could find out, and then we could talk when you were done.”

“Where in England?”

“In Devon.” She looked over her shoulder as if to reassure herself.

“Wait. That’s crazy. My family is in Devon. In Wulfecombe. Do you know where that is?”

A weird, twisting emotion swirled through her gut, her throat, welled in her eyes. “Liam,” she managed in a hushed tone.

“What?”

“That’s where I am. My feet are in the ford right now.”