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she interested in? What are her social causes, what charities does she give to?”
    “Her personally, or Crush?”
    “Both. And once you’ve got a good picture, you can use that to create a custom-tailored menu of potential gifts. Donors want to know their money will have tangible results. So, put together a list so appealing she can’t stand the thought of missing out.”
    Isn’t this
your
job?
I thought, but no sooner had my brain formed the words than he continued.
    “I’ll help you if you’re not sure how to put it together. But I can’t overstate the importance of a personal connection here, which is why I’m asking you to help get the relationship started. Just try it out. See what you can do. I know you don’t have a lot of experience with this, but it’s a great opportunity and we’d be fools not to throw everything we’ve got at it.”
    In the abstract, everything he said had excellent logic to it. Neil was young to be heading up a development office, but we’d lured him from the Gardner in Boston two years ago by offering him the directorship, and he’d made good on the trustees’ enthusiasm in spectacular fashion ever since. If he thought I was our museum’s best shot at Diana Ramirez, then he was probably right. In the abstract.
    There was also the fact that his entire demeanor conveyed a serene but unbudging stubbornness. He was not going to let me out of this. “Okay,” I sighed. “I’ll see what I can do.”
    The chair squealed again as he got to his feet, and he patted it bracingly. Then he stopped in my doorway, tapped the casing as if remembering something, and pivoted back to face me. “Oh, hey, how was the Patrick Timothy show? Didn’t you go this weekend?”
    Hearing the name was like having my face slapped. It took me several seconds too long to recover. “Oh. Yes. I did. It was great. Stunning, actually. The kid is the real deal.”
    Funny how, although I was pretty sure no one was handing out cosmic gold stars for “Be the bigger person” moments such as praising your husband’s co-conspirator in cheating, I couldn’t quite bury my admiration for Patrick’s talent under my loathing of his greed. Even though I was certain that talent was one of the things that had made him so compelling to Adam. Like Adam, Patrick was a creator, while all I did was work with other people’s creations. Was that why Adam had found him superior?
    “Should we be looking at trying to exhibit him here?”
    With an effort, I dragged my thoughts back to the conversation. “I heard the Whitney’s all over him,” I said. I had heard absolutely no such thing.
    “Really?” said Neil. “Didn’t think he was big enough yet for them to be interested.”
    “I guess he is.” (He was absolutely not.) “Also, though, the images are incredible, but some of them are kinda racy,” I said. “So that’s a factor, too.”
    “Hmm,” said Neil. “I saw a few in the
Times
write-up. They weren’t that bad.”
    “You’re saying that because you’re an art guy who’s not threatened by images of naked human bodies. I bet you’re teaching your kids the proper anatomy words, too, not stuff like ‘wee-wee’ and ‘special place.’ ”
    He grinned, teeth flashing white against his light brown skin. “Guilty. But, still. You know who I heard likes photography? Diana Ramirez.” He rapped his knuckles against my doorframe again—
chop-chop
—and then he was gone.
    •
    For three days, I’d resisted reading Adam’s letter. I hadn’t wanted to give him the time and attention he craved, though the mystery of the letter’s contents tormented me like a paper cut I couldn’t stop touching. But my sickening revelation about Patrick’s potential superiority sent me diving into my discarded overnight bag for the letter as soon as I got home from work that day. I had to know what Adam had written, why he had done what he had. And I had to know what he felt about Patrick.
    I sat at the kitchen counter