CLAIRE

I unzipped the portfolio carefully. Inside were photographs, dozens of them, all of Julian's mother, Elena, some I recognized from the painting, younger versions of the woman in the landscape.

Others were new to me, Eena laughing at a dinner table, Elena covered in paint, holding a brush, Elena with a young Julian, both of them smiling. "Where did these come from?" I asked, my voice soft.

"I found them last week," Julian explained. "In storage, Victor had them boxed up after she died."

I looked through them slowly, seeing Elena in moments Julian had described, her joy, her creativity, her love for her son. "Julian, these are yours,"...