Create a similar story with title, different names of characters, location set and please keep the lesbian details.

Newly appointed art curator Molly Goode is committed to diversifying her museum’s collection. When Georgina Wright, the museum’s aloof benefactor, asks for Molly’s help in identifying the provenance of a 19th century portrait of social activist Josephine Brancaster, Molly welcomes the opportunity, even if it means spending time with the standoffish financier. But passions soon flare as the women uncover the heartbreaking story of doomed lesbian love behind the watercolor painted by Josephine’s lover, Edith Hewitt. 
As their love blossoms, Molly is determined to display Edith’s portrait of Josephine and to tell their story in the museum, but she needs the influential Georgina to help convince the board. When an unforeseen twist in the painting’s provenance forces Georgina to confront her own painful past, will history repeat itself, or can Molly and Georgina’s love prevail? 
The influential museum benefactor Georgina Wright arrives unannounced at her local museum hoping that someone will be able to help her discover more about a mysterious family portrait. The kind and passionate museum curator Molly Goode is excited to offer her help but is left baffled by the beautiful Georgina who seems to be even more mysterious than the painting she is holding tightly in her hands. 
Molly all but ran down the stairs. Sparks of excitement tingled on her skin at the thought that someone had brought a painting to the museum. She liked to try to imagine what the work could be and to anticipate who might be waiting for her. 
As she reached the final few steps, she could see a tall, elegant woman holding a bubble wrapped painting at her side. Whatever Molly had expected, it wasn’t her. The woman glanced over at her, and if she was not mistaken, she saw a glimpse of recognition in the woman’s eyes. Had they met before? 
“Hi, Fred.” Molly dumped a pile of folders onto the reception desk. “Can you give these to Fran? She’ll be down a little later for them. And hello there.” Molly turned to 
the visitor. “How can I...help?” She hadn’t meant to stare. She just found she couldn’t look away. 
The woman was somewhere in her late twenties, early thirties perhaps. Her chestnut hair was shaped into a loose bob. One ear was exposed, and she’d tucked a loop of hair behind it in a manner that was informal and yet precise. Her long face with balanced, refined features had a noble quality to it that suggested a hereditary ease to her beauty. Her tailored dark grey suit hugged every inch of her perfectly toned body. Everything was in exquisite order. Was she real? It was almost impossible not to reach out and touch her. 
Molly quickly closed her mouth. What must this woman think of her? Staring and all but drooling like a fool. She needed to say something. Quickly. 
Molly stumbled over her words to continue, “I have had one of those days. I was late, for starters.” Molly shook her head. “I don’t know about you, but I find that starts the day all wrong. And then I had an awful meeting. Oh my God. Oh, and to top it all, I sat on Fran, my colleague’s, sandwich.” Fred laughed. “It’s not funny. Well, okay, it’s a little bit funny. And I’d woken up to birds singing, and it had been such a beautiful morning. And the church across the way from me seemed to glow. Really, it was in every way a daybreak to match Monet’s Rouen Cathedral captured in the morning light.” 
The woman visibly tensed. She stared intently at Molly without betraying a flicker of expression. “I’m not familiar with the work.” In an instant the coldness of the woman’s reply frosted their chat to brittle fragments. 
“Oh, I’m sure you’d like it,” Molly said. “He was such a wonderful painter—” 
“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but will this take long?” The woman directed this question at Fred. “It’s just I was hoping that someone at the museum could take a look at my painting today.” 
Molly said, “Well, that someone would be me. I’m the fine art curator here.” Molly thought it best to try and manage a smile. 
The woman looked down at the painting by her side before returning a concerned look at Molly. She couldn’t have gripped the painting any tighter. 
Stifling a rising sense of offence, Molly explained, “We don’t, as a rule, I’m afraid, simply take objects from the public.” The woman’s cheeks flushed at the phrase the public. “You will need to complete an object entry form. This is standard procedure across all museums to help us to properly assess your offer or request—” 
The woman shook her head. “I’m not offering you anything. I just need someone who knows what they’re looking at to assist with ascertaining the provenance of this work.” 
Someone who knows what they’re looking at? Well, frosty knickers, how about someone with a masters in art history. How about top of their class. How about you stick that up... “Oh no, of course, I’m not presuming that you’re offering this work to 
the museum. It’s just the object entry form is the first stage for all inquiries of this type.” Molly looked at Fred for support. “Could I have an object entry form, please, Fred?” 
Fred rummaged around and then Molly joined in, leaning over the reception desk, her bottom in the air, her feet just touching the floor. 
Molly tried to focus on finding the form rather than on her awareness that the woman was once again staring at her. The scrutiny was unnerving. Maybe her summer dress looked out of place in September. Oh my God. Had she remembered to shave her legs? 
“Look, please don’t bother,” the woman said, with unguarded frustration. “Thank you for your time.” 
Utterly confused, Molly simply nodded in reply. She watched the upright figure of the most baffling woman in the world walk towards the sliding doors that led outside. How could someone so beautiful be so cold? 
“Georgina!” 
Molly turned at Evelyn’s voice to see her quickly walking towards the door, her arms wide in a gesture of evident surprise and welcome. 
Georgina—where had she heard that name? Molly watched as Evelyn air-kissed Georgina’s cheeks. She then pretended not to notice as Evelyn led Georgina past reception up the stairs. 
Molly lingered in reception, giving them plenty of time to have reached Evelyn’s office. Ten minutes later she climbed the stairs and as she rounded the corner into the corridor, she collided straight into a hurrying Georgina. Their bodies met with a bump. Molly’s soft curves pressed momentarily against Georgina’s firm frame. 
“I’m sorry,” Molly said, breathing heavily. “My fault. I wasn’t watching where I was going.” She then moved in the same direction at the same time as Georgina. “Oops.” Molly giggled. She risked a glance at Georgina’s face. She thought she saw her smile, but then it had passed so quickly she couldn’t be sure. 
“After you,” Georgina said, without emotion or expression.
“Thanks.”
Molly stepped aside, and then without another word, Georgina was gone.