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FIFTY-SIX

T he trial is scheduled to begin at nine o’clock tomorrow morning, and I still don’t have the report from AuthentAI.

Naomi has been very apologetic, but since I left Party with her their system has crashed twice and two of her staff have come down with the flu.

Most of the computational analysis has been completed, but the data needs to be reviewed by actual humans, and then they might want to do more computational analysis before everything’s final.

The report will not be available in time.

I texted Wyatt yesterday to let him know.

His assistant got back to me, saying Wyatt was disappointed but remained confident he’d be successful with the evidence and the experts he has.

Which she then itemized: Nova, the detective who did the preliminary investigations on the case; the director of the New York office of the Claims Conference; a literature professor at Columbia whose expertise is in early twentieth-century diaries; and an art historian from NYU who specializes in the Impressionists.

I find it hard to believe he’s really confident, but I need him to be.

I’m a complete mess, and if it weren’t for Jonathan I’d be an even bigger one.

We’ve only been together together for a short time, but it feels longer, which I attribute to our months of friendship and the intensity of our connection, physical and otherwise.

We can’t get enough of each other. In addition to lots of lovemaking, we’ve been sharing our childhoods, our secrets, our successes and failures, our hopes and, of course, everything Party .

It’s as if our relationship is evolving in all directions at once.

We’re discovering each other in the present and plunging into the future, while hungry for every detail of the past to make the other whole, known.

He’s been unfailingly supportive about the trial and has taken my concerns as his.

This is clearly not a casual relationship, and despite my previous rejection of anything serious, I’m all in. Yet another mind opener.

ALTHOUGH I’D ALWAYS assumed I’d be at the trial, Wyatt told me he doesn’t want me there, and I’d reluctantly acquiesced.

The last thing I want to do right now is piss him off.

So I spend the day roaming the city in the rain, my hand around the phone in my pocket.

It’s set at the highest volume, and I put it on vibrate just in case.

It’s after four thirty when Wyatt calls. “I have disappointing news,” he says in a professional voice. “The judge has ruled against you.”

“I, I don’t understand.” And for a moment, I don’t.

“It was the lack of provenance, as we previously discussed. With nothing to legally establish the Bernheims owned it, édouard Manet’s will took precedence.”

“What about AuthentAI? Once we have verification that Berthe painted it—which could come any day now—won’t that cancel this out?”

“That would have to be a separate lawsuit, in which you sue Damien Manet to claim it from him.”

“Could we do that?”

“If the final report supports the claim, it will be up to you to pursue a suit.”

“What about an appeal?”

“That’s also possible.”

“Then she’d be able to stay here. Can you do that right away?”

“There’s no guarantee the judge would allow you to retain possession while an appeal is being adjudicated. As it stands, Damien Manet is now the legal owner of Party on the Seine , and he can take possession of it at his convenience.”

“But you can still start the appeal, right? Ask the judge if I can keep her until a decision is made?”

“As I just told you, requesting a stay is possible, but given the legal basis of this decision, I don’t see any substantial questions of the law or fact that would likely result in a reversal of the court’s decision.

Therefore, it’s unlikely the judge will allow you to keep it during the appeal process. ”

“But it’s worth a try, isn’t it? Can you start it now?”

“Another lawyer can start it, yes.”

“Another lawyer?”

“I think that would be best.”

After he hangs up, I stare at the dark phone in my hand, barely comprehending. My brain seems to be stuck in low gear, but then a flood of despair overtakes me.

I’ve lost her. Wyatt isn’t going to help me, and I don’t have the money to hire another lawyer.

I’ve had her for just six months, but I can’t imagine life without her.

She’s become a part of me, my friend and companion, my helpmate and confidante.

I recognize this is patently absurd, but that’s how it feels.

Party is Berthe, and Berthe is Party . My family. Which means I’m losing all of them.

I wrap the wool coverlet around my shoulders, then lift it over my head, curl into a fetal position, and try to bury every part of me in it. It’s too small to do that, but I keep trying. It’s as if I’m coated in ice. It doesn’t occur to me to get a larger blanket.

From: Damien Manet, Director of the édouard Manet Foundation

To: Tamara Rubin

Cc: Wyatt Butler, Beacon, Exeter & Associates

Re: Party on the Seine

Date: 1 May

Now that the court has ruled that I am the rightful owner of Party on the Seine , I have arranged transport to procure my painting at 9:00 on the morning of 6 May. I have discovered that it is at CubeSmart, located at 380 E Street, Boston, Massachusetts.

A truck, equipped with all the necessary packing materials, will arrive at that address at the abovementioned date and time. Please ensure that all paperwork has been completed to facilitate a smooth transfer from the storage facility. I thank you in advance for your compliance on this issue.

I am sure you will be pleased to learn that, despite the late date, which is months beyond the official deadline, the Louvre has accepted Party on the Seine for inclusion in the édouard Manet retrospective to be held in August.

WHEN JONATHAN COMES over, he doesn’t say anything, which I appreciate, just holds me as I sob.

Then he leads me into the living room, grabbing some napkins off the counter as we walk by.

“I’m not going to tell you I know how you feel, because I don’t,” he says when we sit and my tears slow. “But I’m here for whatever you need.”

“Thank you.” I press a napkin to my face. I hate to cry, which is useless and will get me nowhere, so I pull myself together. “I, I need to figure out how to keep her.”

“You want to do that right now?”

I nod. “Wyatt said there’s little chance the judge will approve a stay if I appeal, and that Party would most likely be sent to Damien during the process. But talking to Wyatt was like talking to a lawyer-bot, so I have no idea if this is true. Is it?”

“I don’t know the reasoning behind the ruling, but he does. So I’d guess his take is on the mark.”

“And that I’d need a new suit if it’s authenticated as Berthe’s?”

“Wyatt might sound like a bot, but he’s got his information right. In almost all cases, new evidence can’t be admitted on appeal, which means you’d have to file a different suit against Damien.”

“I can’t afford to do that. I still owe Beacon, Exeter a ton of money, and just had to get a new credit card because I maxed out my other two.”

“I don’t have the legal expertise to file a suit for you—especially one that involves a foreign country—but I’ve got a few friends who might be willing to give you a break on the price.”

“My school loans are also overdue.” I try to smile. “What made me think going to Harvard Business School was a good idea?”

He wraps me in his arms, and we sit like that for a long time, staring at the damn hooks hanging on the empty wall.

I CALL NAOMI and tell her I need to get the painting first thing in the morning, then beg her to finish her report before that. I want to be with Party for every minute I can, but I want the report almost as badly.

Naomi is still full of apologies, as the software and staff issues haven’t been resolved. “It might only be another week, and—”

“I don’t have another week. Can you at least run whatever tests you need the actual canvas for? I need to get her, it, tomorrow.”

She hesitates, and I hear keyboard clicks, followed by a deep sigh.

“You’ve been really patient, and I appreciate that, and I promise I’ll do my damnedest to make it happen.

But you understand there’s no way I can get the official statement to you by tomorrow?

That’s going to be at least another four or five days. ”

“I understand.” Which I guess I do, although given the ruling it’s hard to contain my frustration.

If she’d finished in the two to three days she originally promised—it’s now five and counting—everything would be different.

So different. But I know all too well about unexpected staffing and computer problems, so I add, “Thanks.” Which is about all I can muster.

AT EIGHT IN the morning, Jonathan and I head to AuthentAI. “I’m not going to bother with any nonsense about faking another move to CubeSmart,” I say as we cross the Longfellow Bridge into Cambridge.

“You don’t think Damien will start back in about how bad it is for you to keep her in your apartment?” He now refers to Party as “her” too, which I find extremely endearing.

“Who cares if he does? What’s he going to do, sue me? I’ll just tell him to pick her up at my place. He’s in full gloating mode, and I bet he won’t make waves as long as he gets his grubby hands on Party .” I wince. “Too pleased with himself to pick nits.”

Chris, my concierge buddy, does his loading dock trick, and by nine, Party is back home. Jonathan helps me hang her up and rushes off to work. A tear rolls down my cheek as I sit with my Morisot. Although there’s no movement, I sense Berthe’s sympathy.

“I don’t know how I’m going to bear it,” I tell her melodramatically.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to get you back here or get you the recognition you deserve.

But once the authentication comes in, I promise I’m going to do everything I can to make that happen.

It could be years, which might not sound like that long a time to you, but it’s going to be an eternity for me. ”

There’s a waft of violet perfume. Then she turns her head toward me, a sly smile playing across her face, and I hear, “Not to worry, child. The wait will be far shorter than that.”