ISABELLA’S POV
Linda had that way of bringing me back down to earth when the ground under me felt like it was tilting. Just like Agnes.
After more of her ridiculous tea-bag threats, I’d stopped shaking. My breathing evened out. My face no longer looked like a horror movie extra.
I fixed my makeup in the mirror…light foundation, a little mascara, a confident red lip. I brushed my hair until it fell smooth and glossy over my shoulders. My armor was in place.
“Let’s go,” I said, grabbing my bag. “We have an exhibition to handle.”
Linda raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure you can do this?”
“Of course! I’m not about to let a creepy freak ruin my career.”
She flashed me a wicked grin.
“Good. Because if you bail now, all those rich, crusty art snobs will assume you’ve failed and happily sink
