r window, the jagged skyline of Manhattan receded, turning into a glittering, unrea

to red brick, vinyl siding, and power lines th

driver asked, his eyes meeti

ange on her tongue, a sequence of number

atch of lawn was more brown than green. Her mother had moved here shortly after the wedding, insisting she needed to be within driving distance of the cit

he concrete steps. She stood at the door for a long

open before she

a wooden spoon in her hand. Her hair was grayer than J

d at the red-rimmed eyes, the sin

n breathed. "That

d pulled Johnna into a fierce, bone-crushing hug. Johnna smelled garlic,

r knees gave way, and she sa

, stroking her hair. "I've got

ohnna sat on the lumpy sofa, a mug of sweet tea in her hands. Susan

pointing a finger at the TV. "We

hnna said softly. "I

aughter's pale face and nodded. "Y

osters of Renaissance art exhibitions were taped to the walls

ess was soft and sagging. She pulled the q

pt for

to force her to drink water or eat a few spoonfuls of soup. She was vaguely aware of the sun

f the third day,

the cold light of the penthouse. It was warm, dusty, and

hadn't ended because Chad

wled, a loud, d

Johnna walked into the kitchen and made herself a sandwich, piling the

doorway, watching he

nna said, wiping cr

rest," Susa

hnna corrected. "I n

logged into a private, invite-only forum for art conservators. It was a world she

ught her eye

Chelsea that handled restoration for the kind of clients who o

ey had an emer

marriage. It was a common enough name to offer a veil of privacy, yet respected enough in the niche circles her father had once frequented under his own professional pseudonym.

hit

was it. This was who she really was. Not t

on the d

g Chadwick. But the not

on Vance,

t: Int

ou be here

reen. A fierce, sharp s