I grinned. “Inoubliable.” Unforgettable.
Then I found my way back to Gen, who whispered in my ear. “I’m almost tempted to ditch the museum and head to Henrik’s place. Now that we know where he hides the key and all…”
I steered her firmly to the last hall we intended to cover — the Impressionists.
“I’m chock-full of impressions for today,” Gen grumbled.
“Indulge me,” I whispered, tugging her gently along.
Something in me thirsted for a full-circle moment, having been here with Gen in bad circumstances and now in good.
I put my hand over her eyes, whispering, “Take me to my favorite.”
“You still don’t believe me?”
“Oh, I believe you. But it’s like seeing a masterpiece — you want to see it again and again.”
She grinned and held my hand, keeping her eyes closed. “Okay. Just keep me from knocking into furniture. I can only hear paintings.”
And off she went, identifying the artworks we passed by sound.
“Gustave Caillebotte —The Floor Scrapers. Gypsy caravan. A church.”
I nodded. “L’église d’Auvers-sur-Oise.” The woman was amazing.
“Bong, bong,” she joked, pointing to Monet’sHouses of Parliament.
I chuckled. “Yes, Big Ben.”
And yes, her eyes were still closed. I would have sworn it was impossible, but hey. That was Gen’s specialty. I grinned so wide, a woman gave me a side-eyed glance that said,These paintings aren’t that amazing.
Maybe not, but Gen was.
“There.” Gen pointed. “Your favorite.”
She opened her eyes, and we admired Van Gogh’sStarry Night Over the Rhônefor a while.
“My turn for a request. Ready?” she asked.
I didn’t reply right away, too busy imprinting the moment in my memory. How many times had I stood in exactly the same spot, but alone, not even imagining the turn my life would take?
“All good?” Gen asked quietly.
I squeezed her hand. “Great.”
Better than I ever thought life could get, in fact.
Yes, we faced a huge challenge in terms of saving the château. And yes, we would probably encounter more nasty supernaturals in the future. But as long as we stuck together — all of us, not just Gen and I — we could surmount those obstacles. We could thrive beyond our wildest dreams.
My chest swelled as I smiled at her. “Lead the way.”
She set off, backtracking through until we reached Monet’sPoppy Field.
“This is where you figured it all out,” I said, more in awe of Gen than the painting.
“Thanks to your help,” she whispered.
I let my eyes wander over the painting, noting the prominent elements. Camille’s blue parasol… The red stripe in Jean’s hat, matching the color of the waist-high flowers… The slight V of the landscape farther back…
