Just this morning I was painting the ocean outside the cottage, washing my brushes out with seawater so that when the paint dries you’ll see some of the salt crystals in the strokes on the canvas. Monet’s plein air beach paintings all contain the smallest bits of sand if you look close enough, and it was one of his scenes I was replicating from memory. I can’t help it. I always go back to my favorites.
“You’ve been doing it since you were a child,” Stella says.“Amy Fox at the Philadelphia Museum of Art says she has watched you for nearly twenty years as you’ve sketched and painted in her Impressionist galleries.”
I never thought of myself as an art forger, though I knew I was copying the masters—Renoir, Monet, Cassatt, Van Gogh—who silently taught me to paint as they unknowingly babysat me in the museum when I was a child. First, I stared at them until I could enter them; next I sketched; and then I painted. I know them as well as I know my own face.
“Amy recommended me for the scholarship here,” I whisper. “Amy is one of your experts.”
Stella nods.
“And the paintings you want us to steal, a Van Gogh and a Renoir.La Chambreand one of Renoir’s nudes? Two of the most expensive pieces in the museum.”
“Yes, but also on the smaller side. Easier to remove.”
“And you want me to paint them? From what?”
“I have photographs here. You can get started. And then you can visit them in the Orsay when you return to Paris.”
“You chose us very carefully.” Colette looks Stella directly in the eyes.
“One of us is an Impressionist scholar who has worked in an auction house.” I nod to Colette.
“And one of us is an insanely talented replicator of Impressionist art.” Colette nods back at me.
“And one of us is a whore,” Lucie chimes in. “Skilled in infiltrating the private spaces of wealthy men.”
“Correct on two counts,” Stella says coolly. “Lucie, I chose you because I liked your boldness, your bravery, and your art. You were the wild card. Please don’t underestimate your talents.” At this she raises a penciled-in eyebrow. “All of your talents.”
What Lucie doesisskillful. She’s comfortable in the company of the richest and most powerful men in the world. And they adore her. Itisa talent.
We are Stella’s long game. We are her plan B.
“Wewillneed money,” Stella says slowly. “There will be a lot of expenses for all of this.” She pauses, meeting our eyes. “How do you ladies also feel about breaking into a safe?”
“About the same level of enthusiasm I feel for stealing two pieces of priceless art off the walls of one of the world’s most famous museums,” I say with an eye roll.
“I feel great about it,” Lucie replies at the same time.
“The safe is in the Swanson estate outside of Paris,” Stella says. “It is a home I never thought I would lose, but my name was never on the deed, so it was one of the first things I was locked out of. I kept many things in there, including most of the jewelry that Maxwell gave me over the years. I stopped wearing it all about a decade ago. Those kinds of baubles weigh on old bones. I wasn’t able to get any of it before Louis exiled me.”
“Don’t you think they’ve pillaged that safe by now?” Lucie says.
“If they could find the safe. But I doubt that. It’s well hidden and I am the one who had it installed years ago. It isn’t in any of the plans for the estate. I need you to get into that house. I’ll give you the combination, you’ll empty it.”
“We’re just going to stroll in?” I ask.
“You’ll be invited. There is a holiday party there soon. Matthew might enjoy having you as a guest,” Stella says with a sly smile.
“Me?” Lucie says. “You want me to seduce your grandson?”
“No. I want Emma to.”
Something occurs to me then, something that has been missing from this equation.
“Why not ask Matthew for his help? He clearly loves you. He would have done anything for you.”
“I wish that were true, my dear. But the siren call of an assured future, of limitless resources and power, will always trump any kind of familial love. I have no doubt that Matthew adoredme. But he could be the next in line to inherit a company worth billions of dollars if he plays his cards right with Louis. His affection for me cannot compete with that. But he likes you. He talked about you after your lunch.”
The gears in Stella’s head turn more quickly than I can keep up with.
