Page 99 of Homeport

Whatever it took, however long it took, she would see that they paid for it.

When she came out of the bedroom, she saw that Ryan had ordered the waiter to set up the meal on the terrace. The rain had stopped and the air was fresh. The table sat cheerfully under the bright green-and-white-striped awning and candles flickered over the linen cloth.

She supposed it was designed to make her feel better. Because she was grateful to him, she did her best to pretend it did.

“This looks very nice.” She managed what passed for a smile. “What are we eating?”

“Minestrone to start, then a couple of Florentine steaks. It’ll help. Sit and eat.”

She took a chair, even picked up her spoon and sampled the soup. It stuck like paste in her throat, but she forced herself to swallow. And he was right, the heat of it thawed some of the ice in her belly.

“I need to apologize to you.”

“Okay. I never turn down an apology from a woman.”

“I broke my word to you.” She lifted her gaze, locked on his. “I never meant to keep it. I told myself a promise to a man like you didn’t have to be kept. That was wrong of me, and I’m sorry.”

The simplicity, the quiet tone, touched his heart. He’d have preferred it otherwise. “We’re going at this at cross-purposes. That’s the way it is. Still, we’ve got a mutual goal. We want to find the original bronzes. And now someone’s upped the stakes. It may be smarter for you to back off, let this go. Proving you were right isn’t worth your life.”

“It cost me a friend.” She pressed her lips together, then made herself spoon up more soup. “I won’t back off, Ryan. I couldn’t live with myself if I did. I don’t have many friends. I’m sure that’s my fault. I don’t relate well to people.”

“You’re being too hard on yourself. You relate fine when you let your guard down. Like you did with my family.”

“I didn’t let my guard down. They just didn’t pay any attention to it. I envy you what you have with them.” Her voice trembled a little, so she shook her head and forced down more soup. “The unconditional love, the sheer delight all of you have with each other. You can’t buy that kind of gift.” She smiled a little. “And you can’t steal it.”

“You can make it. It just takes the wanting to.”

“Someone has to want the gift you’re making.” She sighed and decided to risk a sip of wine. “If my parents and I had a better relationship, you and I wouldn’t be sitting here right now. It really goes back to that. Dysfunction doesn’t always show itself in raised voices and fists. Sometimes it can be insidiously polite.”

“Have you ever told them how you feel?”

“Not the way I imagine you mean.” She looked past him, over the city where the lights gleamed and the moon was beginning to ride the clearing sky. “I’m not sure I knew how I felt until recently. And it doesn’t matter now. Finding who did this to Giovanni matters.”

He let it rest, and since he’d decided it was his turn to deal with practicalities, he removed the covers from the steaks. “Nobody understands the way a slice of red meat should be treated better than the Florentines. Tell me about Giovanni.”

It was a fist to the heart and the shock of it had her staring at him. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“First tell me what you knew about him and how you came to know it.” It would ease her in, he thought, to the details he wanted most.

“He’s— He was brilliant. A chemist. He was born here in Florence, and joined Standjo about ten years ago. He worked here primarily, but did some time in the lab at the Institute. That’s where I worked with him initially, about six years ago the first time.”

She lifted a hand and rubbed at her temple. “He was a lovely man, sweet and funny. He was single. He enjoyed women, and was very charming and attentive. He noticed details about you. If you wore a new blouse or did your hair a different way.”

“Were you lovers?”

She winced, but shook her head. “No. We were friends. I respected his abilities, very much. I trusted his judgment, and I depended on his loyalty. I used his loyalty,” she said quietly, then pushed away from the table to walk to the parapet.

She needed a moment to adjust, yet again. He was dead. She couldn’t change it. How many times, she thought, for how many years, would she find herself adjusting to those two single facts?

“It was Giovanni who called me to tell me the bronze had been discredited,” she continued. “He didn’t want me unprepared when my mother contacted me.”

“So, he was in her confidence?”

“He was part of my team here, on the project. And he’d been called on the carpet when my findings were questioned.” Steadier, she walked back to the table, sat again. “I used his loyalty, and our friendship. I knew I could.”

“Today was the first time you talked to him about the bronze being a copy?”

“Yes. I called him when you went downstairs. I asked him to meet me inside Santa Maria Novella. I told him it was urgent.”

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