Almost. I noticed that the two things my mother had added—the necklace and the ring—were still there. That’s how good she was. She was so good that even an art expert couldn’t tell her painting apart from Finn’s. She’d be part of that portrait forever. I watched my mother as she looked at the painting, but she didn’t give anything away. I thought of trying to catch her eye, so she’d know I understood what she’d done, but I decided not to. Everyone needs to think they have secrets.
