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Julian remains shrouded in mystery.”
    Kaye chose her words with care. “It’s possible Taylor believes that you and Joanne might not approve of the approach she took to her subject. I’ve seen both pieces, and in my opinion, Two Painters is a better piece of art. It’s bold,and the way Taylor uses space and light on that canvas is sophisticated for a young artist. But BlueBoy21 is the piece that will get the attention. For a fifteen-year-old to paint a twenty-first-century version of one of the world’s most famous portraits took confidence, but Taylor brought it off. BlueBoy21 is stunning.” Kaye’s voice grew wistful. “After the auction, life is going to change for Taylor.”
    Zack was clearly perplexed. “Kaye, I’m not getting this. BlueBoy21 was a student piece. Taylor told us that herself. She was simply working in a genre with which she was unfamiliar. Why should that change Taylor’s life?”
    “People – important people – are going to notice her work,” Kaye said. “They’re going to have ideas about what she should do next.”
    “She’s not even fifteen years old,” Zack said. “What Taylor does next is up to her and her parents.” He moved his chair slightly closer to Kaye. “And to you, of course.”
    “Thank you for that,” Kaye said. “It’s good to know I still have a role to play.” Her eyes travelled the room. “No sign of Julian. I’m worried. He can’t handle a woman like Lauren Treadgold. He’s so vulnerable.”
    “Julian doesn’t strike me as vulnerable,” Zack said.
    “He tries to hide it,” Kaye said. “But Taylor captured his sadness in her portrait of him. His beauty but also his longing.”
    My mind jumped to the possibility that Julian had been attracted to the artist painting him. “What’s Julian longing for?” I said as casually as I could.
    “The kind of gift Taylor has,” Kaye said. “But he simply doesn’t have it. He was in my first-year drawing class last year. He worked harder than anyone, but at the end of term, Julian and I both knew the truth. He came to me and asked for an honest assessment of his abilities.” She bit her lip, looking close to tears again. “I gave him what he’d asked for.”
    Zack winced. “That must have been tough for both of you.”
    “It was,” Kaye said. “Julian knew, of course, but hearing me say the words was a blow. I suggested other paths: sculpture, photography, video, but Julian’s dream was to become a great realist painter, and he was devastated. If I had it to do over, I’d equivocate.”
    “In the end that would be crueller,” Zack said. “You did the right thing, Kaye.”
    Kaye’s voice was hoarse with emotion. “I wish I could believe that.” She zipped her jacket. “Imagining what Lauren Treadgold is doing with Julian is making me sick. I’m going home.” She started towards the door, then turned back. “If you see Julian, tell him … tell him he is loved.”

CHAPTER

2
    After Kaye left, Zack and I went our separate ways. Zack made a beeline for Warren and Annie Weber. Warren had made millions in farm machinery. He was crowding eighty, and Annie was a luscious twenty-something. With a winning sense of irony, they had come as “Daddy” Warbucks and Little Orphan Annie.
    I talked to a husband and wife, both surgeons, who were dressed in furs as Dr. Zhivago and Lara; to the Treadgolds’ next-door neighbours, who were a little too deeply into character as George and Martha from Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? ; and to three Oscar Wildes, one of whom was Zack’s dentist. Zack’s dentist was a nice man, but he was no Oscar Wilde, and I was relieved when Ernest Beauvais, the First Nations elder who was advising the Racette-Hunter project, rescued me with a gentle request to have a few words about the mission statement we’d worked on together.
    The idea of inviting an elder to be part of our committee had been Riel’s. He had recommended Ernest, a bear of a man – tall,