Chapter 7 - MY SISTER'S LAST LIE
"Tell me you didn't give Grant Weller access to Grandpa's painting."
Brooke stood in the gallery doorway, still wearing the gray sweater she'd worn the day before.
I'd asked her to come immediately.
Now I held the authorization form between us.
She looked at the paper.
Her face changed.
"Where did you get that?"
"Answer me."
She sank into a chair.
"Weller came to see me last week."
I waited.
"He said Dad needed permission to inspect something in storage. He told me the painting had already been sold years ago and that we were only verifying old records."
"So you signed?"
"Yes."
"Brooke, you had no authority to give him access!"
"I know that now."
Her voice rose.
"I know, Rachel! I've been hearing about everything I did wrong since Thursday!"
I put the paper down.
"Then maybe it's time you actually listened."
She stared at me.
I kept my voice steady.
"You didn't just borrow money you couldn't repay. You helped plan a theft. You signed a document you didn't understand. And every time somebody asked you to take responsibility, you said Dad told you it was fine."
Tears rolled down her cheeks.
"I was scared."
"So was I."
That silenced her.
"I was scared when I found out my family planned to steal the one thing Grandpa wanted me to have. I was scared when I learned Dad had forged my signature. I'm still scared that I could lose this gallery."
I pulled out the chair opposite her.
"But being scared doesn't give you permission to hurt someone else."
For a long time, Brooke stared at her hands.
Then she spoke.
"The boutique didn't just fail because I spent too much."
I waited.
"I made terrible decisions. Expensive rent, too much inventory, advertising I couldn't afford. But when I tried to close it, Dad told me I'd embarrass the family."
She wiped her face.
"He said Mitchells don't admit defeat."
That sounded like him.
"He convinced me to take Weller's loan. He promised he'd guarantee everything."
"With my property."
"I didn't know that part."
I believed her.
Not because I trusted her completely.
But because I'd seen the surprise on her face when the transfers were revealed.
She hadn't understood the entire scheme.
That didn't make her innocent.
It made her another person Dad had used.
Brooke opened her handbag and removed a folder.
"I brought you everything."
Bank statements.
Emails.
Messages about the loan.
A business account summary showing that $250,000 had gone to Dad's consulting company.
And a handwritten note she'd made after meeting Weller.
"Look at the bottom," she said.
I read the final sentence.
If Rachel refuses, enforce gallery collateral and obtain painting through settlement.
My hands went cold.
"Weller said this?"
"He said it in front of Dad."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I thought it was a threat to make Dad pay."
She looked up.
"And because I didn't want you to know how much trouble I was in."
That afternoon, Brooke gave Daniel a signed statement explaining her dealings with Weller.
She also formally withdrew any permission she'd purported to give regarding Grandpa's artwork.
Daniel warned us that withdrawing the authorization might not stop a transfer that was already being prepared.
He requested emergency court protection.
But Weller was moving quickly.
By late afternoon, we learned that intake 417 had been scheduled for transportation to a private conservation facility the following morning.
The destination was associated with an art export company.
And the instruction had been issued under paperwork claiming the owner had approved the move.
Me.
Again.
Daniel immediately sought a temporary restraining order to prevent the artwork from leaving the conservation system.
He also contacted investigators handling the alleged forgery.
But there was another problem.
Nobody would confirm that intake 417 actually contained the original painting.
It might be an empty crate.
It might contain a replica.
It might contain something Grandpa had never intended anyone to sell.
That evening, I returned to the gallery alone.
The walls looked strangely bare.
I'd moved several valuable pieces into secure custody while the investigation continued.
Grandpa's desk stood beneath the window.
His watch lay beside the lamp.
I picked it up.
4:17.
For years, I'd thought the stopped hands were simply another sign of its age.
Then I remembered something.
Grandpa used to say, "When you're trying to understand a painting, don't look only at what the artist placed in the center."
I turned the watch over.
There was the engraving.
RACHEL — ALWAYS TRUST WHAT YOU SEE.
I looked at the photograph of the shipping crate.
417\.
Perhaps the number wasn't a message at all.
Perhaps it was just an inventory reference.
And perhaps I was so desperate for Grandpa to help me that I was turning ordinary objects into clues.
Then I noticed something on the conservation receipt.
Under the intake number, a category had been checked.
Not PRIVATE STORAGE.
Not COMMERCIAL SHIPMENT.
MUSEUM STUDY COLLECTION.
I read it twice.
Grandpa hadn't simply hidden the painting.
He'd placed something into a system where conservators and researchers could study it.
The following morning, Daniel obtained a short emergency order preserving intake 417 while the parties' claims were examined.
Weller's requested shipment was suspended.
For the first time, I felt we'd gained a little ground.
Then Daniel showed me Weller's response.
Grant Weller was willing to withdraw his claim to the painting.
He would cancel the planned transfer.
He would even discuss releasing the gallery from the disputed collateral arrangement.
All he wanted was one thing.
My signature transferring ownership of Grandpa's gallery to his company.
I read the proposal in disbelief.
May you like
He wasn't offering to settle the dispute.
He was offering to let me choose which part of my inheritance I wanted him to take.
