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for his mother to see Liam with another woman. She wasn't seeing anyone. Xavier had asked her over dinner at Le Voltaire, her eyes had filled with tears, and she just shook her head. He didn't mention it again. He had the frightening feeling she had just given up. At forty-nine, it seemed an incredible waste to him, but she seemed to have withdrawn into herself, except when she was at work. The gallery seemed to be the only thing that could distract her, and he was grateful for that.

“See you in New York!” Liam called out happily, as Xavier left. He was excited about his show. He never mentioned Sasha even once.

Sasha and her children had Thanksgiving at the apartment. She and Xavier went to a movie afterward, while Tatianna went out with friends. It was their third Thanksgiving without Arthur, and the least painful one so far. For the rest of the weekend, Sasha was busy with Liam's show.

The work, as they uncrated it, was absolutely wonderful. Sasha stood back and looked at it, and was proud of him. He had done a fantastic job preparing for the show. It all arrived in perfect condition, and she propped it up against the walls around the gallery, as she decided where to hang it. She was still there late on Sunday night, trying to decide which of two spectacular pieces she wanted to hang in the front, so people saw it the moment they entered. She didn't even hear him come in. The door to the gallery was unlocked. Xavier had come by briefly, and Sasha had forgotten to lock it behind him. She was too busy hanging Liam's paintings. She was staring at the two largest paintings, and heard a familiar voice behind her that made her heart pound. It was Liam, fresh off the plane, in a black turtleneck sweater and jeans, the familiar baseball cap, motorcycle boots, and battered black leather jacket. His long blond ponytail hung straight down his back. He looked more than ever like James Dean. And no longer hers. She told herself that as she turned to speak to him in a deceptively calm voice, and met his eyes squarely. It didn't show to him, but it cost her a lot to do so.

“You did a great job,” she said softly. She was his art dealer now, she reminded herself silently, and nothing else. Their eyes held as they stood watching each other from the distance. He didn't approach to kiss her on the cheek. He stood across the gallery and looked at her, and she looked at him. Times had changed. He looked serious and sad and tired, but as beautiful as ever. “You've done an incredible amount of work.” It was impressive.

“I've been busy,” he said quietly.

“I suspected you would be,” she said, and then hated herself for the comment. What he did with his spare time now was no longer any of her business. She seemed flustered when she spoke to him again. “Which one do you like best for the front? I've been standing here for an hour, trying to decide.”

“That one,” he said, pointing to the larger, brighter of the two, without hesitating. “Don't you think?” He still valued her opinion about his work. Her eye was infallible, and he had the greatest respect for what she did and how well she did it.

“Yes, I do. You're right. I've been standing here like a fool, stumped. But you're right.” She carried the painting to where she wanted to hang it, and he stepped forward to help her. The painting was too big for her to carry alone, but she didn't mind. She often worked late at night, hanging paintings on her own, battling with the painting, the ladder, her tape measure, a level, nails, and her hammer. He smiled as she banged the nail into the wall, and then grabbed the painting, as he lifted it up for her. She was as stubborn and determined as ever. Nothing had changed. He was still smiling when she got down to admire her work. “Wow! That looks perfect!”

He nodded, looking at it with the critical eye of the artist, but he was pleased too. “Yes, it does.” He looked around then and was delighted with the way she had curated the show. He had known he would be. As she stood there, looking at him, she was acutely aware that she hadn't seen him in four months and a