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"It hasn't been displayed in years," Helena says.

Blaire studies the setting.

"Do we have the original family photographs?"

"Yes," Helena says. "They're in the supporting file."

"Good."

She turns toward me.

"Do you remember this?"

"I remember seeing it."

"That isn't what I asked."

I meet her eyes.

"No," I say. "Not like you do."

Something shifts in her expression, and she looks away first. Helena closes the case.

"I'll have the photographs brought up."

"Thank you," Blaire replies.

Helena steps out again, and I look at Blaire. She is staring at the closed case.

"You remembered all of this," I say.

"I worked on it."

"That was not what I meant."

She turns toward me.

"I know."

The air between us changes. Not much. Enough. I could push. I do not.

Blaire gathers the condition reports and stacks them neatly.

"We're done here."

"For now."

She gives me a flat look.

"For the painting."

I almost smile, and she sees it and shakes her head.

"You're impossible."

"You used to find that entertaining."

Her expression closes immediately. There it is, the line, and I stepped across it. Not far. Enough.