“It’s in a nice frame,” says Gabe, winking.
As we eat, he asks me questions that seem light and friendly at first. Where am I from? Am I headed to college? What do I want to study? But when he’s had a couple glasses of wine and the meal is winding down, he fixes me with a stare. “You came for money, yes?” he asks, slurring his words only slightly. “Your father’s money?”
“No.” I put my fork down.
The rest of the table goes silent.
“Come on. You’ve got college to pay for,” Gabe says. “And while there aren’t a lot of eight-million-dollar paintings, there area lotof two-million-dollar paintings.”
“I’m not after money,” I say, squirming. “Kingsley’s already giving me a painting. That’s more than enough. I didn’t ask foranything.”
“I don’t know about him giving you a painting,” says June, sharply.
“The one he made of her,” explains Meer. “Lost.That’s for Matilda to have. She has it in her room now.”
“Kingsley’s paintings aren’t birthday presents for his models,” says June. “Just because Matilda’s inLostdoesn’t mean it’s hers.”
“I don’t mean to be rude,” Gabe says to me. “But it’s my job to look out for Kingsley. Not June, not Meer, and certainly not any other children Kingsley might have. Just the man himself. And I need to tell you that gifts of paintings don’t just happen casually when he’s not at home.”
“I have it in an email,” I explain. “And Meer knows about it.”
“I do,” says Meer. “He asked me to make sure she got it. I just didn’t know she needed paperwork or whatever.” He turns to his mother. “You know he never thinks about practical stuff like that.”
Gabe frowns. “Let me talk to Kingsley before you take it. He knows you’re here?”
“He invited me.”
“That doesn’t sound like Kingsley. I wonder why this sudden surge of fatherly interest.”
I feel my face heat up. I don’t know why this lawyer is trying so hard to put me in my place. “I graduated high school,” I say acidly. “And my mother moved to Mexico without me six months before that. I can only guess Kingsley’s been keeping track of me. And maybe when your mother abandons you, your father might feel a tiny bit parental. I mean, I’m just guessing.”
Gabe gives me a smooth smile. “I’m sorry about your mother,” he says. “Just give me a beat to sort out the gift. It’s no good trying to sell a painting if you can’t trace its provenance. You have to be able to prove your rightful ownership and track it back to its origin.”
“I wasn’t going tosellit,” I say. “Ever. It’s the only thing I own from my father.”
“You don’t own it yet,” says Gabe. “That’s what I’m telling you.”
37
The rest ofthe meal is awkward. I don’t eat any more. My throat is closed with embarrassment and confusion.
After Gabe goes home in a rideshare car, June heads directly to Bone Tower without another word to any of us. Meer disappears somewhere, and Brock treks through the kitchen wearing nothing but a bath towel, heading to the outdoor shower.
I stand at the window of the living room and watch as Tatumhandles the chaos of the picnic table. He loads dirty dishes into a bucket and makes his way through the tall grass to the castle.
He shouldn’t have to do everything alone. I go to the kitchen and begin putting away things June left out. I am loading the dishwasher when Tatum comes back, a stack of leftover containers in his hands.
“Oh hey. Thanks for that,” he says.
“Sure.”
The last time we really had a conversation was when he told me to stop stirring up trouble with June, defending her like she’s immune from all criticism because she’s been good to him. We haven’t been alone together since. “Gabe was being harsh,” he says. “You should have that painting.”
“Doesn’t sound like it’s mine unless Kingsley comes back to give it to me.”
“The picture of me isn’t mine, either.”
“He never paid my mom for posing forPersephone.Did you know that? Then he sold the painting for millions. It’s messed up.”
