Book Excerpt

April, 1963, Boston

As soon as her mother disappeared down the hall, Victoria hurried back across the gallery to the wall where the giant painting of the Boit sisters hung. She wanted to look at it one more time and luckily, this time, there was no one blocking her way.

Stepping close to the painting, she again felt its magnetic pull. Again, she heard the murmur of voices; a little louder this time, a little clearer. As before, she was unable to stop herself from lifting a hand, yearning to touch, even though she knew it was prohibited.

The guard had to be somewhere nearby, but she didn’t look for him.

She moved another step closer, so close she could see every brushstroke in the surface of the paint. As she watched, the thin membrane of the canvas seemed to vanish. The voices grew more distinct and the painted room opened up before her like an unfurling umbrella.

Victoria’s vision began to blur, then she was falling and everything went black…

November, 1882, Paris

Victoria came quickly to her senses. Her first impression was pain: her head pulsed with it and her eyes refused to focus. She sat up and the objects around her took form. It was obvious that she was no longer in the museum. She was in a room that looked like the entry hall of a large apartment. Its parquet floor and thick Persian carpet looked old and elegant, as did the red, intricately carved screen standing to her right. The human figures appeared tiny in the hall’s vast space, even the giant Japanese vases were dwarfed by the lofty dimensions of the room.

As unbelievable as it seemed, Victoria realized that she had fallen into the painting. But it was no longer a painting. It was a real room containing real people - people who looked just like the ones Sargent had painted.