“That’s right,” said Ian, and had a drink. “It’s not ugly to her, and it doesn’t look too old. Not sure you noticed.”
“I didn’t.” Gabe paused. “Do you have it?”
Ian pulled up the picture on his phone and pushed it over. Gabe’s eyes grew intense for a moment, then he seemed to force himself back and shrugged.
“Well?”
“I can’t tell.” Gabe reached for the fries on his plate.
Ian now worried the man was bored.
“She’s not in it to find anything traditionally valuable,” said Ian, finishing off his beer. “She’s exclusively looking for pieces in a particular color scheme to keep up appearances. Her grandchildren think she does all this needlepoint with her time and she likes to keep the perception that way.”
That was true enough. Ellen would often elaborate on what meanings she could give t
