A passionate wannabe art historian finds herself in over her head when a painting is stolen.
Clare Bast may never have completed her Ph.D. dissertation on the art of Blake Webley, “a successful but enigmatic midcentury painter,” but most people would consider her lucky: Despite her humble origins, she’s married to Jed, who comes from a wealthy family and works as general counsel for a hedge fund. Clare spends her days as a stay-at-home mother to Sadie, but something has her feeling restless. Maybe it’s the empty time she has to fill now that Sadie’s at school, or maybe it has something to do with smoldering gallery owner Gabriel Prévost, who she meets at a party thrown by Jed’s boss, hedge fund founder Alec Wolfe, and his glamorous wife, Tasha, who may or may not be related to a shady Russian oligarch. Clare and Gabriel enjoy verbally sparring about their hosts’ mundane taste in art—and soon their banter (plus an illicit cigarette) aren’t the only things they’re enjoying together: Their attraction leads to a hot affair. Clare is also drawn in by an artwork Gabriel has in his possession, something he’s holding onto for a private buyer: a piece called Longfin by Blake Webley, the subject of her unfinished dissertation. Then one night when they’re in his bed together, someone breaks in, shoots Gabriel, and steals Longfin off the bedroom wall. Clare is caught between a rock and a hard place: She can’t admit to the police that she was at Gabriel’s house the night he died, but she also knows that there’s more to the story of the Webley than she’s been led to believe. So she begins her own investigation into the twisty, shady, abundantly wealthy world of art collecting. Andrews entwines the language and imagery of color, texture, and art throughout this taut and well-written thriller. Clare is not only street-wise and knowledgeable in her field, but she’s refreshingly self-aware.
A mystery bound up in astute social satire.