His office

Waterloo Bridge grounded me the next morning. I came home to the heavenly smell of coffee started by my roommate. I passed Gaby a half hour later on my way out the door to class.

"You going to the Mallerton exhibition on the tenth?" she asked. "I want to. I'm conserving one of his right now, called Lady Percival. I was hoping to find out a little more about the provenance on her. She's had some heat damage, and it's melted the lacquer over the title of the book she's holding. I really want to know what that book is. Like a secret I need to discover."

"Yay!" She clapped and did a little bounce. "It's his birthday exhibit,” I pretended to count on my fingers. "Let's see, Sir Tristan would be two hundred twenty-eight?"

"Two hundred twenty-seven, to be exact." Gabrielle was deep into her dissertation on Romanticist painter Tristan Mallerton, so when there was anything doing with him she was first in line with tickets.

"Okay, off by one year. That's not too bad."

She smiled wide, revealing