Chapter 12
Nina returned to the gallery three weeks later.
Her choice.
Not mine.
The damaged sculpture was gone.
The second one too.
The museum had replaced the suspended installation with floor-mounted pieces.
Some donors complained the room looked less dramatic.
I told them drama was currently overstocked.
Nina walked toward the spot where her chair had been.
Stopped.
Looked up.
Nothing above her.
Good.
Grace stood several yards away.
Nina walked to her first.
“Grandma.”
“Yes?”
“You sit?”
Grace looked at me.
I shrugged.
Nina dragged two light chairs beside each other.
Then ordered Grace into one.
She climbed into the other.
My chest tightened.
Same gallery.
Two chairs.
No ropes.
No choice.
Nina held Grace’s hand.
Then looked at me.
“Daddy, picture.”
I laughed.
Of course.
I took the photograph.
Grace smiling.
Nina serious.
The ceiling safely empty.
Later Nina asked:
“Can Vera see?”
I paused.
“Do you want her to?”
“Picture only.”
Interesting.
A boundary a four-year-old understood instinctively.
Contact without presence.
So I sent Vera the photograph.
No message.
She replied with one sentence.
Thank you for letting me see them safe.
Good.
May you like
No request to return.
Maybe change had begun when she stopped treating access as something owed.
