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“It isn’t finished.”

“I know.”

She reaches into her bag and takes out a business card. “When it is.”

She holds it toward him. Kell looks at the card but doesn’t take it. For half a second, I think he’s refusing. Then I understand.

He can’t read it.

Kell points toward me. “Give it to Laura.”

The woman follows the direction of his hand and comes over.

“I’m Meredith Shaw.”

“Laura Hutchins.”

She gives me the card. Her name is printed above a phone number and the name of an interior-design firm in Springfield.

“I’d like first refusal when he finishes it.”

I glance toward Kell. He’s already crouching beside the painting again.

“That sounds like a conversation you should have with him.”

Meredith smiles. “It does.”

She goes back to Kell, and I stay where I am.

They talk for several minutes while I stay near the table. I can’t hear every word, but enough carries across the grass.

Kell asks what first refusal means, and Meredith explains it. A moment later, he asks whether she wants the painting for herself.

“Yes.”

He tips his head. “Why?”

That gets my attention.

Meredith turns back to the canvas and studies it for a few seconds before answering.

“Because it makes me feel like something is about to happen.”

Kell goes very still.

His gaze returns to the painting, and mine follows.

I’ve watched him discover things every day since he came to life. Tacos. Music. Sex. Paint. The fact that televisions contain far more cooking competitions than any civilization reasonably requires.

This is different.

Someone he doesn’t know has felt something because of something he made.

When Kell looks back at Meredith, his voice is quieter.

“I’m not finished,” he reminds her.

She smiles. “I know.”