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lights in the Bay Area obscured what should have been a spectacular display, but a few hardy stars managed to shine through. I tried to remember their names. I had learned the constellations years ago at Girl Scout summer camp, shortly before I’d been drummed out of the corps for conduct unbecoming.
    Frank stirred and I wondered if he was thinking about the stars, or, more likely, about the bottom line. Might as well face the firing squad, I decided with a sigh.
    â€œI don’t have the rent money yet, Frank. I screwed up. I should be good for it soon, if you can just wait a few more days.”
    â€œIs that why you’ve been avoiding me?”
    â€œI wouldn’t say I’ve been avoiding you exactly.”
    â€œSo that wasn’t you in the battered green pickup truck peeling out of the parking lot yesterday when I drove up?”
    His voice, low and attractive, contained a note of suppressed humor. Was he making fun of me? Probably. Was I in any position to complain? Not really.
    â€œIt’s not like I’m slacking off, Frank. It’s just that I’m working sixty hours a week as it is and I still can’t make ends meet. I should probably start looking for a new studio.” I stared into the distance, fighting a wave of self-pity. I didn’t ask for much out of life, just the chance to create my art without risking arrest and imprisonment. Why was that so hard?
    â€œA new studio?” Frank asked, startled. “Isn’t this a good location for your business?”
    â€œOf course. Most of my clients are in the City. But the rents are too high.”
    â€œSo there’s no other reason you’re considering moving?”
    â€œNo, I love it here. The studio space is perfect, my friends are here, and my landlord’s a decent sort,” I said, giving him a sideways glance. “Most of the time, anyway.”
    â€œAnd he’s about to prove that this is one of those times,” he replied. “Had you responded to any of my many phone messages, Annie, you would have known that I’ve been trying to propose a somewhat unorthodox business arrangement.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œI said—”
    â€œI heard you,” I replied, thinking quickly. “Just how ‘unorthodox’ is this arrangement? Because I’ve had about as many surprises as I can handle in one night.”
    â€œIt’s not that kind of proposition, Annie,” he said, his dark eyes holding mine. “As you know, DeBenton Secure Transport moves artwork for a number of top museums and dealers. From time to time accidents happen and I need the services of a top-notch art restorer. But the work must be done discreetly. Very discreetly.”
    â€œAs in, I keep my yap shut and no one ever finds out?”
    â€œPrecisely.”
    â€œAnd in exchange for my services you are offering what?”
    â€œI extend your lease for three years, and reduce the rent five hundred dollars a month in lieu of a retainer. You’ll be my resident art expert.”
    â€œâ€˜Resident art expert,’ eh?” I repeated, tempted but hesitant. “I like it. But let’s be clear about one thing: I don’t do restoration work that alters the value of a painting or its attribution.”
    The line between restoring art and forging art was a thin one that I preferred not to cross. To the best of my knowledge Frank was unaware of my past, and I hoped to keep it that way. I didn’t think he would appreciate the irony of a former art forger working for an art security business.
    â€œNot a problem. I’m referring to straightforward repair work, that’s all. I would also like your opinion on questions of authenticity from time to time.”
    â€œOkay, then,” I said, beaming. “It’s a deal.”
    We shook hands solemnly. His grip was strong, yet gentle, his long fingers enveloping mine.
    Not that I noticed.
    â€œJust let me know when you