Chapter 5: The Offer

Rupert Crane asked me to walk with him.

He asked it politely, in front of Blair, as if it were a favor to us both.

I walked, because I wanted to hear what he would say.

He led me down the corridor behind the lobby and out through the loading dock.

The cold air smelled like diesel and wet cardboard.

He stopped between two crates and put his hands in the pockets of his camel coat.

"You've grown up," he said.

"You haven't changed."

"I take that as a compliment."

"It wasn't one."

He smiled at that, the same smile that had told a room of professors I had nothing.

"Let me be direct, Mrs. Harrington. I'm a busy man."

"Siobhan is fine. You never learned my name the first time."

"Siobhan, then."

He took an envelope from his inside pocket and held it out.

"There's a gallery in Milan. A friend of mine owns half of it. They need a head of acquisitions, and they pay well."

I didn't take the envelope.

"That's the offer," he said. "The job starts in a month."

He tapped the envelope.

"There's also a check in here for a quarter of a million dollars, for the inconvenience."

"What's the inconvenience?"

"You leaving quietly."

I looked at the envelope.

"What does quietly mean?"

"It means you pack your desk plant and take a flight."

He ticked it off on his gloved fingers.

"You don't talk to the press. You don't talk to your husband's grandmother about Blair."

"Why would I talk to Philippa about Blair?"

He did not answer for half a breath.

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