Christina is not done with. She is unfinished business. It is surprisingly tender, seeing Henry's painting, and touching, being allowed in in such a way.
This is the woman, Vicki thinks, this is the woman that made Henry. Without whom he is inconceivable. And everything Henry feels for her — well, this may be the closest Vicki ever comes to knowing.
Three hundred years is a long time. A long time to come to terms with losing someone, come to terms with what they have done to you. Three hundred years, even forever.
And in Henry's painting: never time enough.