Page 56 of Over Her Dead Body
Reid turns. “How?”
Heads tilt.
“In the finished work, you wonder why the woman hasn’t left,” I say. “Here, she isn’t there. So either Voss changed the order of the story, or someone later preferred the cleaner version.”
Genevieve smiles into her champagne. “Cleaner versions are terribly popular.”
Celeste says, “Emma has an instinct for these things.”
Reid steps closer to the painting, which brings him closer to me.
Too close for strangers. Not close enough for a man who once knew the sound I made when I couldn’t sleep.
“In Lisbon—” I say.
His gaze stays on the Voss.
“Ms. Calloway,” he says, smooth enough for everyone to hear, “perhaps Todd would enjoy your professional opinion.”
Todd perks up. “I would, actually.”
I turn my head slowly enough for Reid to understand I am imagining him dead.
If he notices, he does not give me the satisfaction.
He looks at Todd. “She can tell you what was removed. What was softened. What someone decided the world should not see.”
My mouth closes.
For half a second.
Then I understand what he has done.
He has turned me back into the appraiser.
Fine.
If he wants me professional, I can be professional enough to cut.
I don’t know how yet, but he is going to regret making this my problem.
I turn back to the Voss.
“The finished painting tells you what Voss chose to show,” I say. “The study tells you what she changed before anyone else was invited in.”
Genevieve watches Reid now with new interest, or the perfect imitation of it. Celeste watches me.
Then Genevieve says something to Reid, light and low, and the important people begin drifting to other pieces in the room, as if my answer is no longer required.
I explain studies anyway.
To Todd, apparently.
Process. Revision. Value. I explain why absence can make a thing more expensive and why the first version of a story is often the only honest one.
Todd listens with the grave attention of a man who did not know five minutes ago that paintings had rough drafts.
I do my job so well it almost surprises me.
