Matthias
Rose’s art really was extraordinary. I didn’t just think that because she was my flower. I didn’t push the point because it seemed like it made her uncomfortable, but she really did seem to be some kind of an art prodigy.
Darrion, who was the curator of the Allbright Gallery in New York was an old vampire friend of mine. As soon as Rose’s collection arrived in New York, he was on the phone, demanding to know where I had dug up this young artist. “I haven’t seen anything this exciting come out of America since Mary Cassat.”
“Mary Cassat was an impressionist… all those dull mother-and-child portraits… how can you even compare?” I asked mildly. I went to my office window, which over looked the gardens, and gave me a birds eye view of the garden project that Rose was worki
