Chương 5
Daniel did not pretend to calculate.
“We announce the fall exhibition delay within two weeks.”
“Staff?”
“Hiring freeze immediately. Contractors reduced. No layoffs before we finish a revised budget.”
“Before?”
“I won’t promise what I can’t promise.”
She appreciated him more for that than for calling her Ms. Reed.
“And the foundation?”
“You tell me.”
The Reed Foundation had liquid reserves, but not fourteen million dollars of casually available money. Much of its capital was restricted by investment policy, conservation obligations, and commitments already approved. Evelyn could authorize an emergency bridge only with a second trustee’s consent and legal review.
Her aunt no longer had capacity.
That left Thomas.
Thomas, who had declined the formal trustee role but remained designated alternate.
Evelyn stared at his message.
Silver dress psychopath.
She called him.
He answered on the fourth ring.
“Are you bleeding?”
“Hello to you too.”
“Evelyn.”
“I’m fine.”
“Did she shove you?”
“Yes.”
“What the hell?”
“Thomas.”
“No, seriously, what the hell?”
She looked at Daniel, who politely walked ten feet away.
“I need you to activate as alternate trustee.”
Silence.
Thomas’s voice changed.
“No.”
“We may need a bridge allocation.”
“No.”
“Listen first.”
“I did this with Dad for eleven years.”
“This isn’t Dad.”
“It is literally Dad’s museum.”
“The museum is independent.”
“Oh, good. I’m sure that distinction makes the ulcers feel different.”
Evelyn closed her eyes.
“Tom.”
“I said no because every time that place is in trouble, somebody in our family gets told history is personally disappointed in us.”
“That isn’t what I’m saying.”
“You called me at ten-thirty at night because you got assaulted at a fundraiser and somehow I’m supposed to sign paperwork.”
“When you say it like that, it sounds bad.”
“It is bad.”
He was quiet.
Then, softer, “Are you actually okay?”
“My wrist hurts.”
“Get it looked at.”
“I will.”
“No, you won’t.”
“Probably not.”
“Go to urgent care.”
“Thomas.”
“I’m serious.”
She sat on the stool again.
Beyond the brass door, a burst of laughter rose from the gallery and quickly faded.
“The museum has eight weeks of comfortable payroll,” she said.
Thomas did not respond.
“The Cole pledge is mostly deferred. Two million now, the rest over years. They want the north gallery converted into a private donor salon.”
“The room Mom fought Dad over?”
“Yes.”
Another silence.
“She’d haunt them.”
“Professionally.”
“She’d move their keys.”
That was exactly the sort of thing their mother would have done, and Evelyn laughed again.
Thomas exhaled.
“What do you need from me?”
“Nothing tonight. Tomorrow maybe approval for a ninety-day bridge. Not a bailout. Time.”
“How much?”
“Probably three.”
“Million?”
“No, Tom, three sandwiches.”
“Don’t get mean.”
“Sorry.”
He was quiet long enough that she could picture him in his kitchen, barefoot, one hand on the counter, staring at the plant he kept forgetting to water.
“I’ll read whatever you send,” he said.
“That’s all I’m asking.”
“It isn’t.”
“No.”
“Evelyn.”
“Yes?”
“Don’t save it because you think Mom would.”
She looked at Margaret’s notes on the table.
“What if I think it’s worth saving?”
“Then figure out why before you spend three million dollars.”
He hung up after making her promise twice to have someone look at her wrist.
Daniel returned.
“He sounds sensible.”
“He sells industrial lighting systems.”
“That does not disqualify him.”
“In our family it practically makes him a monk.”
Daniel packed the cash forecast into a folder.
The brass door opened again.
A security officer stood outside.
“Ms. Reed, Mrs. Cole is still here.”
Evelyn looked at the time.
The preview should have ended fifteen minutes earlier.
“Alone?”
“Her driver is downstairs. Mr. Cole left earlier.”
Evelyn looked at Daniel.
He did not advise her.
That was probably deliberate.
“Where is she?”
“West gallery.”
Evelyn picked up her handbag.
The marble gallery looked larger when mostly empty.
Staff cleared glasses from the champagne tables. A florist was already lifting orchids into plastic transport trays. Two security guards stood near the elevators. Rain streaked the tall windows, turning the city lights outside into long blue smears.
Vanessa waited beside a black-framed painting of a woman seated at a piano.
Without the crowd around her, the silver dress looked stranger. Too bright for the room. Too exposed.
She had removed her earrings.
Evelyn noticed because the absence left two small red marks on her earlobes.
“Ms. Reed.”
There was no sharpness now.
Evelyn stopped several feet away.
Vanessa folded her hands and immediately unfolded them.
“I’m sorry.”
Evelyn waited.
Vanessa swallowed.
“What I did was unacceptable.”
Still Evelyn said nothing.
“I don’t expect you to—” Vanessa stopped. “I don’t know what I expect.”
“That may be the first useful thing you’ve said to me.”
Vanessa’s eyes lowered.
The insult should have felt good.
It didn’t.
Evelyn adjusted the strap of her handbag.
“Why did you hit the glass?”
Vanessa looked up.
“I thought you were trying to go upstairs.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“You weren’t wearing a guest badge.”
“Neither were half the donors in this room.”
“I know.”
“Why did you hit the glass?”
Vanessa looked toward the windows.
A cleaning cart squeaked somewhere behind them.
“I thought you were with a vendor.”
Evelyn felt something in her chest become colder.
“What kind?”
Vanessa closed her eyes.
“I don’t know.”
“Catering?”
“I don’t know.”
“Flowers?”
“Please.”
“Security?”
“I said I’m sorry.”
“You did.”
Vanessa’s face tightened.
For one moment, the arrogance returned—not fully, but enough to show the machinery underneath the apology.
“I’m trying to apologize.”
“And I’m trying to understand what you believed gave you permission to put your hands on someone.”
Vanessa stared at her.
Then she said, “Nothing.”
“That answer took a while.”
“I know.”
Evelyn looked past her at the piano painting.
Her mother had hated that painting too.
Too sentimental, she had called it.
Richard bought it the next week.
Vanessa spoke again.
“You think I’m a monster.”
“I don’t know you.”
“You know enough.”
May you like
“I know what you did.”
“That’s enough for the internet.”
