Page 238 of The Black Trilogy

“I’m sure we can sort something out. Or there’s a few modern paintings upstairs if that’s any use?”

“What paintings? I need somebody well-known.”

Good question. What did we have here? Black had looked after the art, and most of our collection was either loaned out to museums or back in the States. The gallery on the ground floor at Riverley Hall housed the modern pieces, and the expensive stuff lived in a smaller room on the second floor. His father and grandfather, who needed something to spend their wads of spare cash on, had both been keen art collectors. Black not so much. He bought the occasional painting, but only because he liked them, not because he had any particular aspirations of them skyrocketing in value.

“There’s a Picasso, something by Dali, and a couple of David Hockneys. Oh, and one by MC Escher we bought years ago, but that would be difficult to copy.” The Escher lithograph was one of my favourites. “The rest of the stuff is by lesser-known artists.”

“Cool, can I have a look? It sounds odd hearing you say ‘we.’”

“It makes me feel odd that there isn’t a ‘we’ any longer.”

She stepped over and gave me a hug. “I’m really sorry he’s not here.”

“Not half as much as I am.”

I led her up to the study I’d shared with Black. The security for that room had been upgraded to accommodate the expensive paintings, and I flipped back the light switch next to the door to stare into the retina scanner. While Bradley bought entire shopping malls, Mack installed electronic gadgetry.

“That’s wicked! I’ve never seen one of those in real life,” Tia squealed.

How lucky for her that she’d never needed to.

I’d barely ventured into the study since Black’s death. Of all the rooms in the house, it was the one that reminded me of him most. I picked up his Montblanc pen from his desk and twirled it around my fingers before carefully putting it back, a wave of sadness rippling through me. It was also the only room that held any photos of us. Neither of us had been big on personal mementos, but we’d made an exception in there.

Tia stood in front of the wall behind my desk, leaning forward to look at the largest picture of Black and me. We’d been about to go climbing, at Red Rock Canyon in Nevada if I remembered correctly. My grin stretched from ear to ear, and while Black had his customary mask on, he’d taken off his shirt and looked particularly hot. Just seeing us made my breath hitch.

“Was that him?” Tia asked.

“Yes.”

She gazed over the other photos—some of us alone, some with our little gang. There were pictures of us on his yacht, at home, all of us together skiing, and a few of a memorable holiday at his villa in the Caribbean.

“He was really handsome,” she said.

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.

Tia must have sensed I didn’t want to talk about Black, because she moved over to the wall of paintings, arranged so we both got a good view from our desks.

She peered at one portrait. “Who did this? It’s really good. I know Picasso did the original, but this is a copy, right?”

“No, that’s the original.”

Black’s father had bought it from Christie’s a couple of decades ago, apparently blaming the purchase on one too many glasses of sherry at lunch when his wife got upset. I could understand her reservations. Black always said I was a heathen, but I did prefer a face with a nose in the right place.

Tia was gaping open-mouthed at the gaudy painting. “Seriously? This is a genuine Picasso? And are those actual David Hockneys?”

“Yes, and yes.”

“Oh my gosh! They must be worth millions!”

“So the insurance company tells me.” By making a conscious effort, I managed to use “me” instead of “us” this time.

It didn’t take long for Tia to decide. “I love the Picasso, but I’m not sure how I could translate that to fruit.”

“A pineapple with the green bit sticking out from the side?”

She shook her head. “Nah, I’ll go with Hockney. I can do blue apples and pink bananas.”

She stepped closer to the paintings again, enthralled. Happy that she was happy, I got Mack to update the security system so Tia could get into the study and left her to get on with it.

---