The Shadow Collector
I have spent forty years in the trade of beauty. My gallery in the Upper East Side is a temple to the tangible—the weight of a Ming vase, the scent of aged parchment, the precise, cold geometry of a diamond. I believed that expertise was a shield, that knowledge was the only way to truly possess an object. Then came Julian. He arrived in my gallery on a Tuesday, wearing a thrift-store jacket...
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