have that woman’s art or you can have my bequest, but you can’t have both.’ Apparently he promised Frank—he said something about a ‘gentleman’s promise’—that he’d put an end to this. Maybe it’s a moot point, if we don’t hear back from her. And even if the art were real, there’s no way it’s worth two million, right?”
She meant it rhetorically, but Yale took in a long breath of frozen air. “I mean, it depends what she has. But with the Modiglianis, the Soutine—there’s a good chance, if they’re real, if there are full paintings in there, if everything’s in good condition, that it would be more than two million.”
Cecily was a foot ahead of him, so he couldn’t see her face, but he heard the noise she made. “That’s not what I want to hear,” she said.
“I’m not going to lie to you.”
“Here’s the thing, Yale. This goes now from us just taking a chance on the work, maybe getting another donor involved in the authenticity thing, to our paying two million dollars for the art. We’d essentially be buying it for two million dollars. When it’s not even a sure bet.”
“Right,” he said. “Right. He’s serious, this Chuck guy? You don’t think he’s bluffing? I don’t get it. He’s got no personal investment in this, right? He just wants to look important?”
“His whole life is one big ego trip,” she said. “He’s the most difficult donor I’ve ever worked with.”
Yale said, carefully, “Is it possible, though, that the reason he’s so keen on helping Nora’s son is that he knows the art is real? If these were fakes or quick scribbles, he’s not going to throw his weight around to help his golf buddy.”
“Chuck Donovan is no art expert,” Cecily said. “I doubt Nora’s son is either. And listen, it would be one thing if we were looking at a verified Rembrandt. But I have people to answer to. You understand.”
“I do.” The sun had fully set, and Yale wished he had a hat.
“If it is real,” she said, “no offense, but why on earth would she want us to have it?”
“Good question.” It was. Why not set her family up? Why not go to the Art Institute? He said, “But let’s say we get a look at this art, and it’s really promising. Something worth maybe a lot more than two million—and remember that the thing about art is, it often goes up in value—then it would be worth it, right?”
He wasn’t making Cecily happy. She walked faster, watching her feet. She said, “Can’t we just wait till it’s all authenticated?”
“That could take years. We wait around, Nora dies, the son does lord knows what, and the whole thing falls apart.”
“I’m not your boss, Yale. And technically I can’t tell you what to do. But Chuck Donovan makes things difficult for a lot of people, and he might make them difficult for you.”
A woman with a golden retriever darted between them, and the dog sniffed Yale’s leg and managed to wipe its mouth there, leaving a streak of muddy drool on his khakis. The owner apologized, and Yale looked at his watch. He and Charlie had theater tickets, and now he’d have to change when he got home. It was already 5:05. He said, “I understand what you’re saying. And maybe this is a conversation you should have with Bill as well.”
“Oh, Bill,” she said. “All Bill does is ask questions. I always feel I’m being dealt with. I’m talking to you because this is about money. And I want to ask that you don’t screw me over. Okay? I have a kid to provide for, and my job is always on the line. This year more than most, for reasons I won’t even go into.”
Something had changed in her voice, and whether or not it was intentional, a careful manipulation, Yale felt that she was letting him in. That she was desperate, in fact.
He said, “Yeah. No. I get it. Ultimately, I do have a boss, and that’s Bill. I’ll apprise him of the situation. If we’re lucky, the stuff is obviously fake. End of story. And if not—we’ll talk again.”
She said, “I’m going to leave you here and pick up some groceries.” And instead of shaking his hand, she squeezed his bicep.
On the way back to the gallery, the wind was harsher and in his face. He tucked his head and walked like a charging bull. He wasn’t sure what, if anything, he’d promised. Really,