Chapter 9
We opened Eleanor’s archive carefully.
Not to the public.
To the people inside it where appropriate.
Some drawings belonged emotionally to families.
Others to history.
A portrait of my mother laughing went to me.
One of Julian sleeping went to him.
He cried when I mailed it.
Did not tell me.
His daughter did.
Good.
One sketch of Vivienne remained complicated.
Camellia asked for it.
Mavis said no at first.
Months later, changed her mind.
Not because Camellia deserved it.
Because Vivienne had once owned the memory.
Mavis sent a copy.
Kept the original.
Fair.
Then we discovered Eleanor had drawn Mavis as a baby.
One tiny sketch.
Sleeping against her chest.
Mavis stared at it for almost an hour.
That became the only piece she took home immediately.
Not the famous portraits.
Not my father.
Herself.
May you like
Again.
Scale.
