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“It does,” I say.

“There’s enough work to keep me occupied without the whole thing being a disaster. A few records are incomplete, some valuations need updating, and there are pieces that haven’t been properly reviewed in years.”

“So you’re happy,” Chloe says.

“I’m working,” I reply, although I’m smiling.

“There’s a difference?”

“Not always.”

Chloe tells me about her own day after that, including a contract negotiation that ran long and a last-minute problem involving one of the kids and a forgotten school assignment. I listen while I heat my dinner and pour a glass of water, grateful for the ordinary details of her life. For several minutes, there is no Kensington family, no estate library, and no reason to think about the man who has spent most of the past week appearing beside my worktable.

Eventually, Chloe asks, “Have you seen Sebastian much?”

“A little,” I tell her.

“Not nearly as much as you’re imagining.”

“I wasn’t imagining anything,” Chloe says.

“I just remember you two going out when you lived there.”

“We had a few dinners years ago. There was never much to it.”

“I know,” she replies. “I was curious.”

I carry my plate to the table and sit down.

“He’s fine. Still charming. Still Sebastian.”

Chloe is quiet for a moment before asking, “What about his brother?”

I glance down at my plate. “Ross?”

“Yes, Ross,” Chloe says. “Do you see him?”

“More than Sebastian, actually.”

Chloe’s tone changes slightly. “Why?”

“He keeps coming into the library,” I say.

“He asks about the audit, looks through whatever we’re working on, stays for a while.”

“Is he involved with the collection?”

“Not really,” I admit. “Not enough to explain how often he’s there.”

Chloe laughs under her breath. “There we go.”

“Don’t.”

“I haven’t said anything yet,” she replies.

“You were going to.”

“I was going to ask whether you like him.”