‘I’ve never heard that story before, Nonno,’ Angelo said.
‘We were so happy, Frederica and me. Angelo, I wish you and St—’
‘Let’s order coffee, Nonno,’ Angelo cut in.
Mariana wondered what Leo had been about to say. Had it been the beginning of someone’s name? Angelo hadn’t mentioned a partner, though surely as it was the weekend his partner would’ve joined them to visit Leo? The thinning of Angelo’s lips warned her not to ask, which made her guess that it was a painful story. She didn’t want to add to that hurt by asking personal and inappropriate questions, so she brought the conversation back to art. ‘There is one other thing,’ she said. ‘If there are any gaps in ownership between 1933 and 1945, or there is a red-flag name in the list of previous owners, the art might need to be restored to its rightful owner.’
Leo’s expression told her he knew exactly what she was alluding to. ‘I bought The Girl in the Window in England,’ he said. ‘In 1963. It had been in the attic for years, which was how the mice got to it.’
* * *
After lunch, Mariana went back to her room to pick up her equipment, and called Nigel to fill him in on the situation and cancel their meeting on Monday. Back at the palazzo, she took a quick snap of each painting with her laptop, then sat down with Leo and Angelo at the dining room table.
‘I’m going to record everything on my laptop so I can refer back to it, and then type up the notes,’ she told Leo. ‘I don’t want to miss anything or forget anything.’
Leo patted her hand. ‘At my age, dear child, you forget much. I can barely remember what we had for lunch just now. But I remember the past more clearly.’
‘Good.’ She smiled at him. ‘Any time you want to stop for a rest, that’s absolutely fine. We can take all the time you need.’
* * *
Angelo discovered that Mariana was as good as her word, making sure that Leo took breaks. And she was methodical as she went through each painting, letting Leo talk and reminisce but also making sure she got all the relevant bits of information so she could cross-check them at a later date with a paper trail. Clearly she’d interviewed a lot of people for her show and was experienced at making them relax while she got the information she needed.
Although Angelo was kept busy translating between them, he still had time to notice little details about Mariana. The way she sat with head tilted slightly to one side as she listened; the way the sunlight through the window made her hair look the colour of a ripe cornfield; the way her lower lip was as full and lush and sensual as one of the models in his grandfather’s paintings; the way the whole room felt as if it was filled with sunshine when she smiled.
He shook himself.
This was about Leo, not about his inappropriate attraction to Mariana Thackeray. He needed to keep his mind strictly on the job. Especially as he knew her past relationship had been so unhappy; she hadn’t mentioned a partner who might resent her spending so much time with work, so he was guessing that she was single. Trusting someone after you’d been so badly let down was hard. And he came with baggage that she didn’t need. Nothing could happen between them—except maybe a fling, and that felt unfair.
After dinner, Angelo walked her back to the hotel. ‘I know you’re perfectly capable of going on your own, but my grandfather has old-fashioned views and he’d be happier if I accompanied you,’ he said.
* * *
He didn’t say it, but Mariana guessed that he also wanted to talk to her without his grandfather overhearing.
Her suspicions were confirmed when he said, ‘Thank you for being patient with Nonno. He’s a bit intractable about his paperwork.’
‘I like your grandfather very much,’ she said. ‘But we’ll have a huge problem if he won’t let you take the paperwork, because without that I can’t sort out the provenance.’
‘I’ll talk him round. But it’s a question of how we get it all to England. A courier won’t touch it without an exact list of contents, and taking one box at a time as cabin baggage will take way too long.’