She had arranged for an artist to find to your house. She had made queries, and Monsieur Maurice was claimed to be discreet, competent, and silent. Within three sittings, he would produce a canvas just for Gabriel's eyes. Notably, Andrea wanted Gabriel to witness every brush stroke.

Gabriel came downstairs late, still in his Tee shirts and drawstring trousers. The aroma of fresh coffee loaded the air, in addition to something sharper: oil paint. In the lounge, Monsieur Maurice had already set up his easel. The early morning light streamed through the tall windows.


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