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back. The leather couch sighed for her.
    â€œTo me,” she said, “that kind of art is too often intellectual masturbation. No sense of wonder or transcendence or even simple humanity. The results are meant to strike, not to engage. And yes, they are worth a lot of money in today’s market.”
    â€œThat’s what Beck said. About the money, anyway,” Barton said. “You get a classy art handler and you get classy prices.”
    â€œUnfortunately, the Custers aren’t even Edward Hopper,” Sara said. “Anyone telling you different is just hoping to dazzle you into giving them a plump percentage.”
    â€œThose paintings aren’t yours to sell,” Liza said.
    â€œAnd they’re not yours, either,” Jay said to Liza. “That’s what the six years of legal drama we went through decided.”
    â€œIt’s not right,” Liza insisted.
    â€œI disagree,” Jay said, “and isn’t this where the conversation started?”
    â€œLook,” Sara said quickly. “I’m not interested in taking the Custers from anyone. The paintings are Jay’s to sell or keep.”
    â€œYou can’t understand what they mean to me,” Liza said through tight lips.
    Jay saw the tears begin and wished he was out in a pasture pulling wire. If Liza can’t steamroller it, she floods it.
    â€œAt the end of six years of paying everyone’s legal bills,” he said, “I’m flat out of sympathy and damn tired of arguments.”
    â€œAll right,” Liza said huskily. “All right. Just give me one of them to remember my younger years by. You have so many paintings. Surely you can spare one for the woman who was once your mother.”
    My God, Sara thought, biting her tongue. The woman is relentless.
    â€œPeace for one painting, is that it?” Jay asked.
    â€œYes. I choose the painting.”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œNo,” Jay said. “It’s time you learned that I’m not JD. I won’t be wheedled, cajoled, or worn down by words.”
    Silence echoed in the room for several long breaths.
    â€œSo that’s it?” Liza asked finally in a quavering voice.
    Jay could see that she was like the tide going out in advance of atruly monster wave coming back and hammering down on the beach.
    He really wasn’t in the mood for one of her tantrums.
    â€œYou just give a royal no and expect everyone to accept it?” Liza’s voice was as high as her color. “God damn you, Jay Vermilion, just like he saw fit to damn your father to—”
    â€œThat’s enough,” Jay cut in. “You’ve had your say, I’ve had mine. The judge had hers. We’re done with the subject.”
    â€œI expected this kind of behavior from JD, but never from you.” Suddenly Liza fell in on herself, shoulders rounded and slumped forward. Her words tumbled down to the floor, not to Jay. “I thought you were better than that.”
    â€œIt’s over, Liza.” Jay’s voice was flat. “You tried every trick, burned every bridge along the way, and you’re still on the wrong side of the river. Get on with your life and leave me to get on with mine.”
    Her head snapped up. “It’s not over. Not until I say it is. You’ll learn, just like JD did. One of those paintings is mine .”
    â€œGood-bye, Liza,” Jay said, and turned to Sara.
    Barton stood to the fullest height he could manage. “Some of us like to live in the real world. The one where resources can be developed into something really worthwhile and not ignored just so you can play cowboy with everyone’s money.”
    Jay turned to him. “You want reality? What do you think paid for your failed education in acting, your failed restaurant in Miami, your failed gallery in Boston, and your failed delivery service in Baltimore?”
    â€œIt’s not my fault the economy