ELENA
I was back at the gallery by Monday.
Florida had done what Nicholas said it would. I had slept properly, eaten properly, stood on a beach in January with warm air on my face and felt something that wasn't vigilance for the first time in months.
Coming back to New York felt like putting on a coat that was slightly too heavy.
Marcus Webb was at his desk when I arrived, reviewing acquisition paperwork. He knew what his job was and had no interest in exceeding it.
He looked up.
"Good morning. How was your weekend?
"Good," I said. "Thanks."
He nodded, then he looked back at his paperwork.
"The Ribeiro inquiry came back," he said. "His dealer in São Paulo is open to a conversation. I told them we'd be in touch in the spring."
"Good," I said. "That's right."
I went to my offic
