The Gown(101)

“My brother’s children,” Daniel explained. “Along with two strays I don’t recognize. The little girl is his youngest, Hannah, and a particular favorite of Mimi’s.”

“For someone who is so private, your grandmother has a lot of friends.”

“She does,” he agreed, “but they respect her reticence, and the Tate people have accepted this is the most they’ll get from her. She’s allowing them to take some photographs, but she’s asked them not to film her remarks.”

“She’s giving a speech?”

He collected two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and handed one to Heather. “She said she would, but I’ll check in on her later. I can always offer up a round of thanks if she’s feeling shy. Right—brace yourself. Here comes my family. You might want to drink your champagne while you still have a chance.”

In a matter of minutes she was introduced to Sarah, Daniel’s mother, a younger and somewhat sterner version of Miriam; Nathan, his father, who seemed to be enjoying his son’s discomfort at being the momentary center of attention; Ben and Lauren, his brother and sister-in-law; David and Isaac, his mother’s younger brothers; and assorted spouses and cousins and family friends who were honorary aunts and uncles. “The lines between friend and family are always a bit blurry in my mind,” Daniel whispered in her ear.

It seemed that someone, presumably Daniel, had told his parents and siblings about Nan and her connection to Miriam, and apart from condolences on her grandmother’s death and the standard sort of inquiries about her trip and hotel, they didn’t bombard her with too many questions. She likely had Daniel to thank for that, too.

They probably noticed that he’d been holding her hand when they walked in, and that he looked to her every few minutes, no matter where in the room she was, as if he was making sure she was fine and not trapped in a tedious conversation, but they were too nice to say anything about it.

Daniel took her outside to the terrace, which had incredible views of St. Paul’s Cathedral and the Thames, and that’s where they found Miriam. She was talking with a pair of young women, and Daniel greeted one of them with a quick hug before making introductions.

“Heather, this is my cousin Nathalie and her friend Ava. It was their badly timed exam that meant you and I were able to visit the palace the other day.”

Miriam was wearing a beautiful coat that was embroidered with interweaving ribbons of every color imaginable, and it was either something she had made herself or some kind of couture marvel from Paris. Heather kissed her on both cheeks, and she listened to Nathalie and Ava talk of their summer course at university, and it was hard, at times, to keep her attention on Daniel’s cousin and her friend because the view across the river was so distracting.

After ten or fifteen minutes had passed, someone from the museum sidled up to Miriam and asked if she was still interested in addressing her guests. She nodded, and Daniel smiled at his grandmother and took her arm to escort her inside.

Miriam accepted a microphone from the museum employee and went to stand, alone, in the middle of the room, and by then everyone, even the children, had fallen silent.

“Good evening. I will not take long, for it is no secret that I much prefer to express myself through my work alone. It is also the case that an excess of silence may be interpreted as rudeness or ingratitude, and so I wish to tell you that I am very grateful for your friendship and love, and that I am deeply honored to have my work displayed here, in one of the world’s greatest museums of art.”

Miriam thanked those who had put together the exhibition, and she acknowledged her children and their families, and then she paused, her eyes shining.

“I have earnestly tried to never play favorites among my offspring, but if you will allow me, just this once, to single one of them out for special praise, I shall do so now. My grandson Daniel Friedman is the reason I stand before you now. No, my dear boy, do not shake your head. I shall praise you whether you like it or not.

“My Daniel is a seeker of truth, a historian, and in that regard he follows in the footsteps of my beloved Walter. He had to convince me to be interviewed, and I will admit it took some time for him to prevail”—at this everyone present began to laugh—“and then, once I had been persuaded, he held my hand as I spoke of long-lost friends and relatives. As I remembered.”

Miriam dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief she pulled from her sleeve and waited for the applause to end, and then she beckoned Heather forward.

“Yes, yes—you, ma belle. Come and stand next to me.” She took hold of Heather’s hand. “This is my friend Heather Mackenzie. Many years ago her grandmother, Ann Hughes, was also my friend. When I first came to England, in that dark winter of 1947, I knew no one. I had no friends here. So Ann decided to become my first friend. She befriended me, and she gave me a place to live, and when I first began to dream of the Vél d’Hiv embroideries she encouraged me. She believed I was an artist before I dared to believe it myself. She was a true friend, and it is a very great regret to me that we were separated, and that is why I wish to thank you, Heather, for coming to find me, and for standing at my side tonight. My heart is full.”

With that, Miriam handed the microphone back to the waiting museum employee, and she held out her arms so that little Hannah, who had been waiting impatiently, could run up and give her an enormous hug. Heather inched away, pleading the need for a glass of water to one well-wisher, then asking the location of the ladies’ room from another, and without too much trouble she was able to escape.