understand your allegiance is to the Met.”
“I’d be happy to be of use.”
“Can you tell me how serious the museum is?”
“We’re interested, no question. I’m not sure yet how deep the interest goes.”
“You mean it depends on the price.”
“That’s a factor, of course. The chief curator of my department needs to see the work. The director as well.”
“Then I won’t be negotiating with you?”
“I’ll be involved, but this will get done above my head.”
“What a shame,” she said flatly. “We get along so well.”
He laughed nervously. She was so direct in her approach, yet so quicksilver in her moods, that he had no idea what to make of her.
“You could insist upon it. People do things like that. We had one eccentric old lady who would only speak to our junior legal counsel, because he went to her dead husband’s alma mater.”
“That’s brilliant.”
“The director didn’t think so.”
“Shall I do that? Would it help your career?”
“You know,” he said carefully, “you should probably leave the negotiating to your lawyer.”
“My lawyer. He’s a tricky guy, my lawyer. He may rob both sides blind.”
“Shouldn’t you have a lawyer you trust?”
“Oh, I guess I trust him.” She averted her eyes to the table before taking a sip from the mug. “He’s been taking care of Kessler business for thirty years, knows all the secrets. I couldn’t get rid of him if I wanted to.”
“Do you have a price in mind?”
“He does. Sounds high to me, but if the piece is as rare as you say, maybe not. I wish I could ask you what was fair.”
“I wish I could tell you. Fair is what the market will bear.”
“But we’re not testing the market.”
“I can’t believe your lawyer wouldn’t put out feelers.”
“You think we should be fishing around?”
“It would be a natural thing to do.”
“Talk to those pimps at the auction houses?” She spoke sharply. “They’ll promise the sun, moon, and stars.”
“They might get them.”
“What are you telling me, Matthew? That I should go to some rich private collector?”
Her stare was intense, and he found himself struggling with his unease, compelled by an impolitic honesty.
“Actually, I think that would be a terrible idea. Not for you, necessarily.”
“Don’t waffle.”
“It’s just, the thought of that work being locked away from the world, stuck up on someone’s wall…”
“Like it is now,” she pressed.
He exhaled slowly. “Yes. Like it is now. It would be a sad choice. It should be where a lot of people can see it.”
“A museum.”
“A museum would be the most obvious call.”
“But will a museum give it the attention it deserves?”
Fotis’ question again, and Matthew had no better answer for it this time.
“You can attach conditions to the sale. It’s done all the time.”
Ana shook her head. “My lawyer says we don’t have leverage with just the one painting. If I were donating the whole collection I could make demands. Or if it were a Picasso or a Rembrandt, maybe. Tell me if I’m wrong here.”
“You’re probably right.” He shrugged. “It’s still worth discussing.”
“Does it annoy you that Byzantine doesn’t get treated with the same respect as the Old Masters, or the Impressionists, or all of that popular stuff?”
“You know, I never considered popularity when I got into the field. I just studied what interested me, fool that I was.”
“But it must piss you off. The people who made this icon, it was like life and death for them, right? They held these things up before their armies when they went into battle. They died to defend them. Did anyone ever die over a Renoir?”
She was leaning over the table, eyes wide, hand gesturing fiercely. He wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of her argument, but it was impossible. She was so sincere, so fully present in her emotions that it was he who felt ridiculous, made small by his own restraint.
“That’s
“I’d be happy to be of use.”
“Can you tell me how serious the museum is?”
“We’re interested, no question. I’m not sure yet how deep the interest goes.”
“You mean it depends on the price.”
“That’s a factor, of course. The chief curator of my department needs to see the work. The director as well.”
“Then I won’t be negotiating with you?”
“I’ll be involved, but this will get done above my head.”
“What a shame,” she said flatly. “We get along so well.”
He laughed nervously. She was so direct in her approach, yet so quicksilver in her moods, that he had no idea what to make of her.
“You could insist upon it. People do things like that. We had one eccentric old lady who would only speak to our junior legal counsel, because he went to her dead husband’s alma mater.”
“That’s brilliant.”
“The director didn’t think so.”
“Shall I do that? Would it help your career?”
“You know,” he said carefully, “you should probably leave the negotiating to your lawyer.”
“My lawyer. He’s a tricky guy, my lawyer. He may rob both sides blind.”
“Shouldn’t you have a lawyer you trust?”
“Oh, I guess I trust him.” She averted her eyes to the table before taking a sip from the mug. “He’s been taking care of Kessler business for thirty years, knows all the secrets. I couldn’t get rid of him if I wanted to.”
“Do you have a price in mind?”
“He does. Sounds high to me, but if the piece is as rare as you say, maybe not. I wish I could ask you what was fair.”
“I wish I could tell you. Fair is what the market will bear.”
“But we’re not testing the market.”
“I can’t believe your lawyer wouldn’t put out feelers.”
“You think we should be fishing around?”
“It would be a natural thing to do.”
“Talk to those pimps at the auction houses?” She spoke sharply. “They’ll promise the sun, moon, and stars.”
“They might get them.”
“What are you telling me, Matthew? That I should go to some rich private collector?”
Her stare was intense, and he found himself struggling with his unease, compelled by an impolitic honesty.
“Actually, I think that would be a terrible idea. Not for you, necessarily.”
“Don’t waffle.”
“It’s just, the thought of that work being locked away from the world, stuck up on someone’s wall…”
“Like it is now,” she pressed.
He exhaled slowly. “Yes. Like it is now. It would be a sad choice. It should be where a lot of people can see it.”
“A museum.”
“A museum would be the most obvious call.”
“But will a museum give it the attention it deserves?”
Fotis’ question again, and Matthew had no better answer for it this time.
“You can attach conditions to the sale. It’s done all the time.”
Ana shook her head. “My lawyer says we don’t have leverage with just the one painting. If I were donating the whole collection I could make demands. Or if it were a Picasso or a Rembrandt, maybe. Tell me if I’m wrong here.”
“You’re probably right.” He shrugged. “It’s still worth discussing.”
“Does it annoy you that Byzantine doesn’t get treated with the same respect as the Old Masters, or the Impressionists, or all of that popular stuff?”
“You know, I never considered popularity when I got into the field. I just studied what interested me, fool that I was.”
“But it must piss you off. The people who made this icon, it was like life and death for them, right? They held these things up before their armies when they went into battle. They died to defend them. Did anyone ever die over a Renoir?”
She was leaning over the table, eyes wide, hand gesturing fiercely. He wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of her argument, but it was impossible. She was so sincere, so fully present in her emotions that it was he who felt ridiculous, made small by his own restraint.
“That’s
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