brunch (excerpt)

Sam allowed herself a deep breath, though her hands remained tightly clasped. A bad paint-job turned the ill-lit lime-green hallway into a swamp. Dried bubbles and crusted streaks were its warts and reeds. A placard at the end of the hall read DINING ROOM. Over Ms. Ricci’s head, Sam could just make out an artwork in the dining room: little romance boys playing beside their mother, who, perched delicately beneath her parasol, looked on, clothed in a muslin dress the same white as her children’s. As the trio of Sam, Loretta, and cafe-host entered this room, the rest of the work was revealed – the boys played beside a river. Streams trailed off from it as it flowed inward, into a forest of inscrutable detail. Around this painting, on all four walls, an array of portraits cast a wide net in 19th century noblesse.