A Painting at the Gallery Looked Exactly Like My Daughter – But When I Met the Artist, I Couldn’t Believe My Eyes

The woman drew a careful breath.

“I’m Andrea, the coordinator. The artist is here somewhere.”

“Then take me to her.”

Tracy caught my wrist. “Tanya, slow down.”

“No.” I pulled free. “Nova painted Lily on that wall, and I need to know why.”

Andrea’s expression changed slightly. “You know Nova?”

“I know of her,” I said. “My daughter talked about her after weekends at her dad’s house. I knew Patrick had a stepdaughter. I didn’t know she could paint my child from memory.”

I had met Nova a few times, though Elaine, Patrick’s wife, had never allowed her to come to my house.

Andrea nodded slowly and led us down a side hallway.