Page 103 of Burning Caine

“Can someone get the Chagall out of the storage room, so we can make it quick?”

“He already did. Is something wrong?”

“Just a rough day at the office, Sofia.”

She nodded, told us to sit, and disappeared around the waiting room wall. I heard a knock and then Italian voices from the back.

His voice had me out of my seat, hand on my stomach to calm myself. Lucy took my lead and stood, as well. I sat back down. Wait for him. Patience.

“You’re a mess. Mr. Foster really rattled you.”

“He did.” And so much I couldn’t tell her.

My stomach churned and my heart wouldn’t calm down. I was imagining it all. Too much time with SIU. But what if Roger Foster was doing something he shouldn’t? Or Cliff? Cliff had access to everything, and he hadn’t answered my question about the reinsurance. What if I was confiding in the person behind it all? What about Hailey? Taking on those property and art claims instead of sticking to the auto claims she was supposed to adjust, knowing how to remove red flags? I was going to be sick.

But then, like the sun coming out on a cloudy day, everything was suddenly right. He walked around the corner into the waiting room and marched right to me. I was back on my feet in a second. He looked exhausted.

“Ciao, bella.” He took my hand and kissed it gently, coming close enough to keep his words at a whisper. “Mi sei mancato molto.”

I tried not to swoon as he told me how much he’d missed me, smelling him, feeling his presence. I wanted to grab him, kiss him again, feel his tongue against mine, touch his body, but kept my wits about me and frowned playfully. “It’s only been twenty-four hours.”

He grinned mischievously, about to strike back, when Lucy interrupted.

“Listen, Sam got completely reamed over how long the Chagall’s taking. We need an update for the claim file today. We have one week to wrap it up, or they’d pay it out regardless.”

“Sì? Is this true?”

“Yeah. Straight from the president of the company.”

He put his hands in his pockets and stared at me for a moment. He darted to Sofia’s desk, taking advantage of her absence, and the music changed from Vivaldi to rock.

“Antonio!” she shouted from the studio.

“Andiamo!” A wink and he beckoned us back to the studio, to his desk, where the burned painting lay. It was finally out of its frame, the edges which had been protected from the fire in surprisingly good condition.

I smiled and gave a little wave to Alice and Frank, who were at their desks working away. Zander sat in the back at an easel and didn’t budge. I took a quick picture of his progress with my phone.

“Our next step is to check here.” He pointed at the strip of surviving canvas across the middle. “The x-ray sent to the Committee showed a flower here before Chagall painted over it with the leaves. I took it out of its frame and tried the infrared photography last night, but that picks up carbon-based materials, so it lit up with all the soot. So, we are back to the x-ray. I planned that for Monday, but we are on a tight schedule, sì?”

“Do you have the equipment here?” Lucy asked.

“Has Samantha not told you we are the best?” He acted hurt. “Of course, we do! It will take thirty or forty minutes to produce the images. I make no guarantees. I had wanted to clean the damage more before we took this step.”

He yawned.

“Late night?” I asked.

“I arrived at work late yesterday.” He winked privately at me. “I was working on it until three in the morning and back at seven.”

His cousin laughed. “He’s never started work at seven.”

“How about Lucy and I run to Russo’s while you’re doing the x-ray. I’ll grab you a coffee. You look like you need it.”

“You are too good to me.” He gave my arm a quick squeeze, and I smiled broadly as Lucy and I left.

I told Lucy about Via Calabria as we walked and complimented her on taking charge when Antonio had arrived. She teased me about flirting with him. We tried a few samples before choosing a selection of pastries, and forty minutes later, we returned with coffee for the office and the treats, topped with Angelo’s well-wishes.

“Done?” Lucy asked Antonio, once he’d had a sip of the coffee we’d brought.

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