Once they’d ordered lunch, she said, ‘Leo, please forgive me for asking, but do you know exactly what’s in your paperwork?’
He spread his hands. ‘What can I say? I never liked filing. Just as well I never actually had to work at the bank.’
‘Bank?’ she asked.
‘Yes. My great-grandfather had a bank. All the men in my family worked there, until me. My father expected me to do it, too, but I knew I wasn’t suited. I liked art.’
‘Nothing wrong with that,’ Mariana said.
Angelo smiled. ‘And isn’t there a tradition in Florence of bankers collecting art? The city is rich beyond measure, thanks to the Medici collectors.’
‘Yes,’ Leo said. ‘When my father died, I sold the bank.’ He looked at Angelo. ‘What you said about the Medici—I want our family name remembered for our art collection, too.’
‘Angelo told me you went to art school,’ Mariana said. ‘Did you think of becoming a painter rather than a collector?’
Leo shook his head. ‘I was a competent draughtsman, but I knew I would never be more than that. But I have a good eye. I bought sketches and watercolours in flea markets and at fairs.’
‘Did you keep the receipts?’ she asked.
‘I am the son of a banker. I know better than to throw away a receipt,’ he said.
It was exactly what she’d hoped to hear. And there was one more thing that would really help. ‘Did you ever keep a journal about your collecting?’ she asked.
‘Sì. Every year I had a new diary.’ He smiled. ‘Always the colour of good Tuscan wine.’
She went very still. Diaries. These could be really important. ‘Are they all in your office?’
‘Somewhere, in the boxes, yes,’ he said.
She exchanged a glance with Angelo. If Leo had said in the diary exactly where and when he’d bought something, and maybe added in the details, it could really help with the paper trail. Especially as he might not be able to remember all the details now.
‘That would really help me to know what to look out for,’ she said.
‘Mariana and I have been talking,’ Angelo said. ‘If she takes photographs on her computer, then you can sit down together, she can ask you questions about the paintings and you can tell her everything you remember. I’ll translate for both of you.’
Leo patted his hand. ‘That sounds like a good plan.’
‘And we’ll ship your paperwork back to London.’
‘No,’ Leo said. ‘My papers stay in Florence.’
‘Nonno, Mariana’s studies are in London. We can’t expect her to stay here for however long it takes to sort out the paperwork,’ Angelo said gently. ‘The papers will be at my house. That’s almost the same as being yours.’
‘No,’ Leo said again.
Angelo glanced at Mariana. His expression said, Leave it for now and I’ll talk to him.
‘I can use online records as well,’ Mariana said.
‘What sort of records?’ Angelo asked.
‘Sales catalogues, inventories of artwork in private hands, diaries that mention paintings, mentions in wills, and a catalogue raisonné,’ Mariana said, ticking them off on her fingers.
‘I’ve never heard of a catalogue raisonné,’ Angelo said.
‘It’s a list of all known artwork by a single artist. The one for Carulli might list sketches which are preparatory studies for Leo’s paintings; or Leo’s collection might have preparatory sketches for paintings that are listed in another collection,’ she said. ‘And sometimes there are historic photographs; they can show if a painting’s been restored, altered or cut down.’ She looked at Leo. ‘Did you take photographs before your painting was restored?’
‘Yes. I took photographs when I found the painting, too. They’ll be in the boxes.’
‘In colour?’ she asked hopefully.
Leo smiled. ‘I always liked my gadgets, so some will be in colour. Maybe there is cine film, too. Film of my Frederica.’
‘My grandmother,’ Angelo added softly for Mariana’s benefit.
‘Did she like art, too?’
‘She was my model at art school,’ Leo said. ‘My father didn’t approve. He wanted me to marry a banker’s daughter, I guess to make up for the fact that I was never going to be a banker myself. But we married anyway. My father was angry for a while, but then Lucrezia came along and he fell in love with her. She followed him everywhere. And he was the one who discovered your mother could sing, right from when she was tiny. He found her the best singing tutor in Florence. And he had a seat right in the middle of the front row, every time she was on stage, until the day he died.’