Boston, Massachusetts
April 30, present day
The panel in the library swung inward, and Elizabeth entered the gallery. As was her routine, she went straight to her Vermeer. She stood for a moment, admiring its beauty and complexity, imagining herself as the young woman at the harpsichord and relishing the fact that she was the only person on earth permitted to see this treasure. It was the most valuable missing piece of art in the world, and it was hers.
She moved over to her most recent acquisition, Rembrandt’s A Lady and Gentleman in Black. She hadn’t yet mustered the same appreciation for it as the Vermeer, but it was part of her collection and deserved her reverence. Next, she turned to the empty frames on the opposite wall. Like the Gardner Museum, where the pieces had originally been displayed, Elizabeth too, hung empty frames waiting to be filled, waiting for her wayward exhibition—the collection that had come into her family’s possession on the day she was born—to return to its rightful home.
Elizabeth turned in a slow circle in the long narrow gallery. John Reardon had, with the greatest care and caution, negotiated the sale of nine paintings, the eagle finial, and the Chinese gu. Elizabeth had never actually laid eyes on most of her collection. He kept the Vermeer for his wife, and the Degas entitled Three Mounted Jockeys for himself. He also acquired several other works of dubious provenance over the years including some priceless pieces thought destroyed during World War II. He’d constructed the hidden gallery, a place no one but John and Bridget knew existed... until their prized great-grandchild turned five. Elizabeth smiled at the memory.
On March 18, 1995, the fifth anniversary of the Gardner Museum Heist and little Elizabeth Brewer’s fifth birthday, John and Bridget Reardon had given Elizabeth the best birthday present she would ever receive. She had held each of their hands as they brought her into the secret room. There, John had explained the miracle of how the paintings had ended up with their family. Young Elizabeth didn’t know the definition of the word he had used, but she instinctively understood its meaning; it was destiny.
As time passed and Elizabeth found human relationships tedious and unrewarding, she grew more and more attached to the small collection of paintings in John and Bridget’s gallery. Her own parents were shocked when Elizabeth was bequeathed the Reardon estate after John died in 2004 at the age of 93, just three months after his wife. When Elizabeth reached adulthood in 2011, she moved into the home without preamble, despite her parents’ protests that the place was too big for one single woman. Finally, Elizabeth was where she wanted to be, alone with her prized art. In the ensuing years, she determined the hole in her soul was due to the absence of the other pieces from the Gardner heist—completing the collection would complete her.
So, with unwavering determination, she set her mind to reuniting the pieces. For her and only her. Reynard had explained the unfortunate events that had transpired with the young woman and the late Phipps Van Gent. Her next acquisition was going to be that pair of Degas sketches, and as was the case with most things in her life, she needed to take matters into her own hands.